My back didn't hurt, and neither did anything else. I stretched, knowing I couldn't possibly have healed that fast, not unless I'd slept for weeks and weeks. The girl smiled. “I don't have a cat. I have two goats, but that's not the same thing.”
I stood. The wood floor creaked beneath my feet. My legs trembled, then steadied. Still I felt no pain. Even the blisters on my fingers were gone.
“Hey, you really are better!” The girl's smile turned to a grin. “I told them so! I told them I was old enough to help, and not just with little stuff like bumped toes or scraped knees. They didn't believe me, though, not until they had no choice. Wait here—I'm supposed to tell Dad and Caleb as soon as you wake. What's your cat's name?”
“Tallow.”
“Tallow's a good name. I'll be back.”
I heard her footsteps clomping through the hall, then back again and down the stairs. Tallow leaped from floor to dresser, from dresser to window. She stretched out on the sill and closed her eyes, morning sun bright on her fur.
It had been night when we came here. Night when Matthew—
I went very quiet, listening. I heard a few birds outside the window as well as movement down the hall. The bruises on my ankles were gone, and someone had replaced my torn clothes with a soft wool nightgown. From downstairs I heard someone—the girl—talking to herself as she moved about.
I left the room and crept down the hall. The floor sighed beneath my feet.
Through an open doorway I saw Matthew lying motionless in another bed, his skin dull and gray. A man bent over him. He had clear hair like Karin's, only it hung loose to his shoulders. I felt a shiver of familiarity without knowing why. A second man with ordinary reddish-brown hair stood by his side, watching him.
The first man pressed his hands to Matthew's bare chest. Matthew's eyes went wide. He opened his mouth as if to scream, but only a strangled whine came out. The stranger pressed harder, lips moving to words I couldn't hear, silver light flowing from his hands.
I forced myself not to cry out. Matthew arched his back, and I knew he was in pain. I reached for my knife before realizing I didn't have it. Instead I entered the room, quiet like Father had taught me, scanning the floor and dresser for something to use as a weapon.
The red-haired man looked up, and his eyes locked on mine. I froze in place as he crossed the room. “Don't,” he whispered. “If you interfere with Caleb's healing you could kill them both.”
Healing? That didn't look like healing. But I waited as the man gave me an apologetic smile. “I'm Samuel,” he said, still whispering. “And I understand you're Liza.”
I nodded, my eyes not leaving Matthew. He fell limp in the bed, eyes shut, chest moving uneasily up and down. Pale-haired Caleb collapsed into a chair, watching me through half-lidded eyes—with suspicion or curiosity, I couldn't tell.
“Come,” Samuel said. “It's safe now.” I went to Matthew's side, even as Samuel laid a hand on Caleb's shoulder.
Caleb looked up. “This is all I can do for now,” he said. “For now, it is enough.”
Matthew opened his eyes as my hand brushed his arm, then closed them again, as if that took too much work. His skin was warm. I looked to Caleb.
“His chances slowly improve,” Caleb said wearily. “A few hours ago I didn't know whether he'd live through the night.”
I watched the uneasy rise and fall of Matthew's chest. He, at least, could have stayed hidden, yet instead he'd followed me into the dark.
I forced myself to meet Caleb's eyes. They were silver like Karin's, bright with magic. “You saved Matthew's life.”
Caleb met my steady gaze. “I cannot promise that yet. But I am doing what I can.”
“With magic.” My words held more of a challenge than I'd intended. I hadn't known there was magic that could heal, any more than I'd known there was magic that could force trees to release their hold.
Caleb nodded, but his expression grew more guarded. “Magic was the best tool at hand. Would you have chosen another?”
Matthew looked so small lying there, laboring with each breath. So human, no hint of wolf about him. “We are in your debt,” I said, bowing my head.
Caleb nodded, but the guarded expression remained. Samuel said, “You've been here most of the night, Caleb. You need food and rest. Allie's cooking breakfast—”
“I'll be along soon,” Caleb said. “I want to watch the boy awhile longer.”
“I'll watch,” I told him.
“I'm to bring you down for breakfast, too,” Samuel said. “Allie—that's my daughter—was very clear about that.”
Before I could ask why a child would have any say in the matter, Caleb said, “Trust your healer, Liza. Allison may be young, but her instincts are good.”
“Healer?” I asked, feeling stupid.
Caleb nodded soberly. “Matthew wasn't the only one in need of healing when Karin brought you here. I hadn't the strength for you both. We're lucky Allison was up to the task. Now go. I'll head down when you return, and you may sit with Matthew as long as you wish then.”
A scowl crossed Matthew's face between breaths. I wanted to tell him everything would be all right, but I didn't know that. “I'll be back,” I promised him instead, and followed Samuel down the stairs. The girl—Allie— knelt by the living room fireplace, ladling porridge into plastic bowls. My stomach rumbled at the smell.
“Liza!” She dropped the ladle, splattering porridge. Samuel laughed and handed her a towel. I remained in the doorway, uncertain. Father would have slapped me for so carelessly wasting food. Mom would have been calmer, but she wouldn't have laughed.
Allie mopped up the porridge and placed the bowls on a table near the fire. “Come on,” she said. “You have to eat after a healing. That's what Caleb taught me, and it's true for healer and patient both. I'm starving. Come on!”
A bit of porridge had splattered her hair. She didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were brown, and she had a scattering of freckles over her nose. She looked perfectly ordinary, no hint of magic about her. If there were any clear strands in her hair, they were as few and as hidden as Cam's had been. How could this child have wielded the magic that healed me? I should have thanked Allie, but I felt a surge of anger instead. Why should this town have magic that healed, while in my town magic only killed? I forced my anger down as I sat with Allie and Samuel at the table. I didn't want to seem ungrateful.
Samuel poured tea into chipped old ceramic mugs. Like at home, the mugs were covered with words from Before that no longer had meaning: University of Missouri. St. Louis Cardinals. Disneyland.
The porridge had a burned edge. I didn't care. I ate hungrily, tasting bits of meat mixed in. Samuel ate more slowly. “It's—very good,” he managed.
“Liar,” Allie said, but Samuel didn't slap her for that, either. “It's better than good, it's”—she swallowed a mouthful and sputtered—“oh,” she said.
“I like it.” I quickly finished my bowl, and Allie filled it again. I remembered Matthew's cornmeal boiling over onto the fire.
“You really are better, aren't you?” When I nodded, Allie turned to her father. “See? I told you I could do it.”
Samuel ruffled her hair. “And you were right, and we all should have trusted you sooner.”
“Exactly.” Allison gave him a smug grin, then turned to me. “How's your back? That was the worst part, you know.” She shivered, and the smile left her face. “I've never seen a tree attack anyone—I can only imagine. But that's all healed, right?”
I nodded again, not telling her that not all of my injuries had come from the tree. I suspected such things didn't happen in her town, either.
“So where are you from?” Samuel asked me.
I tensed. Could Kate—or, worse, Father—have warned the other towns to keep an eye out for Matthew and me, to return us home or to destroy us? But no, outsiders didn't visit our town. We turned strangers away, with words if possible, by force if need be. No one knew what danger or magic a stranger might bring.