Jute made a tutting sound and reached out to take her hand. “Of course they do, sweetling. Of course they do. Do you know the reason their work is so important?”
Poppy pulled her hand away with a scowl. “I know what they say. It’s—”
“To keep you safe. It’s not just the Hollows your parents are protecting … and it isn’t just to understand the Grimwood either.”
“They do it because they love their work more than anything else. That’s all.”
“They do it because if the maledictions aren’t restrained, you will be in more danger. And you told me about the whispers in the market—all the gossip from Strange Hollow … there have been more maledictions born than ever before. Just last week, a man was taken. Ever since the new governor’s election…”
“I wasn’t even born when they started going into the wood. Their work has nothing to do with me.”
“Yes, they started long ago, but now … they do it to protect you.”
“Along with everyone else.”
“Along with everyone else.” Jute wore a sad expression as he turned to the fire. “You’re very quiet back there, Mack. Why don’t you pull your chair up?”
Mack dragged his chair across the room. “I tried to talk her out of—whatever it is—too, sir.”
Jute gave the young elf a gentle smile. “Well, we both know how difficult it is to talk Poppy out of anything, once she’s made up her mind.” The hob studied Mack. “Tell you what, Mack. You can do something for me—something that would ease my mind a great deal.”
Mack’s eyebrows rose. “Sure! I mean, if I can.”
“Whatever my Poppy gets up to, it would ease my mind to know that her good friend Mack was on her side. Can I count on you?”
“I—I am on her side, Jute. We watch each other’s backs. You know that. I promise.”
Jute nodded, draining the last of his cocoa. “Well, this day has been quite exciting enough. It’s time to settle in for the evening.”
Mack cleared his throat. “I—”
“No.” Jute held up his hand. “I won’t hear of it, Mackintosh. It’s already getting dark, and your parents would not be pleased if I sent you home at this hour. You’ll stay the night in your usual room. Poppy, bring me the penny whistle.”
Poppy smirked at Mack and hopped up to get the slender silver whistle from its hook by the door. She handed it to Jute, who rose wearily from the chair.
They followed him up to the third floor, and Mack waited on the landing as Poppy followed Jute up the spiral stairs to her bedroom. The round turret room that was Poppy’s looked out over the valley, Strange Hollow, and the Grimwood through a half-wall of windows that circled the room.
Jute walked past Poppy’s mattress on the floor (she preferred it there, beneath the drafts), and stepped carefully over the piles of dirty clothes, open books, and broken weapons to the forest side of the room. He lifted the latch on one of the windows and leaned out to pipe a five-note refrain. It drifted toward the trees like light. Three more times, Jute blew the tune before the refrain came back to them with an extra note at the end. Jute gave a satisfied nod, then shut the window and waved Poppy along.
“Your parents have been notified that you will spend the night here,” he told Mack as he passed, ushering them back downstairs to eat their dinners.
“Thank you, sir.”
“It’s my pleasure, young man. And as for you, Poppy, given the circumstances of our evening, I hope you’ll understand that I must attempt to send word out to your parents too.”
Poppy swallowed, but gave a stiff nod. It was only fair.
CHAPTER FOUR
The morning came with its usual persistence, but Poppy jumped out of bed with unusual excitement. There was a lot to do. She threw on black jeans, her “They Must Be Giants” T-shirt, and a bulky black hoodie with zipper pockets. She grabbed the larger of her two backpacks—it was bigger than her daypack, but still smaller than the bulky monstrosities her parents used when they expected to have to travel in the Grimwood deep. She took the net gun and a spare roll of netting. She packed an extra knife, a change of clothes—and one of her dad’s old shirts for Mack. They didn’t have time for him to go home and pack his own bag.
She had a plan, and it was even better than the Mogwen feather.
Poppy took her canteen off the small corner desk, and paused to open a drawer. After a moment’s hesitation, she snapped up her small iron bell—another gift from Jute—and shoved it in too. If she and Mack got separated, she could use it to signal him. She considered the small handful of gold coins gleaming from the corner of the drawer, then scooped them into a side pocket of her pack. Finally, she scraped together the loose change left over from her birthday money this year and put it in her jeans pocket—just in case.
Her hand hovered over the tiny gold locket her parents had given her with their pictures inside. She had gotten it on her ninth birthday, and although she’d worn it for a while, it had never comforted her after a nightmare the way Jute did. Instead, wearing it made her feel conspicuous, as if it were meant for someone else. The locket was shiny and heart-shaped, and happy in ways she never quite found comfortable. She’d taken it off and put it in her drawer, only taking it out now and then just to look at it.
She jammed the necklace in a pocket of her pack and went downstairs. Who knew how long they would be gone?
Mack was already awake and playing with Eta-Two-Brutus in the meadow. She could see him through the kitchen window. There was no sign of Jute.
Quickly, she made
