"Sort of," he replied, looking around at the others.
"I'm named Mary too. My brother's Daniel. We all went to the play in Ashland, and we were supposed to be taking notes on the countryside."
"Pleased to meet you," he said, solemnly shaking hands.
Like many kids their age, these seemed to have an almost catlike concern for propriety and routine. A few were sniffling or crying with sheer relief at the arrival of adults, and accepting hugs; others were more timid. Mary and Daniel weren't crying, not out loud, but a little of the look of strain left their faces.
I cannot leave these kids here to die, he realized suddenly. I simply can't.
"Let's set up a cookfire," he said to Diana. "We'll need sterilized water."
"I'll get the water jugs," Andy said. "We could heat up some miso soup. If they haven't eaten for a day and a half, they'll need something easy to start with."
The others split apart, to get at goods packed in a hurry, or to calm their own children.
"Can you take us home?" the redheaded girl said, after her first ecstatic gulp of water. "Our parents are going to be really worried. I mean, we couldn't phone or anything."
"We can't take you home just now," he said. "Where do they live?"
"Mom lives in Seattle. Dad moved to Los Angeles after they: well, they had a big fight."
You'll probably never see either again, then, he thought. Aloud: "Well, we'll just have to look after you until we can find your folks."
St. George's seemed to be an expensive private school, the sort where really rich people parked offspring they didn't have time for; the kids had been on a special excursion to the Shakespearian festival at Ashland, of all things.
Eugene had been bad enough the first night and day. What Seattle was like by now: not to mention LA:
I don't want to think about it, he decided. Then, looking skyward and back at the earth and over towards the children: OK, OK, I can take a hint, You two!
"We'll take you somewhere fun in the meantime, though," he said to Mary. "Do you like camping out?"
She nodded solemnly. "You and your brother and. Sanjay?" Mary nodded again. "You and your brother and Sanjay can stay with us and Tamsin until things get better."
If they ever do, he thought. Aloud: "OK, people, volunteers for fostering!"
"What's that?" Sally asked, pointing to a big black-walnut tree as the wagon creaked and jounced over the ruts of the logging road.
Juniper Mackenzie looked up. She'd been musing on how to get the food stores out of the Fairfax place and safely into her cabin's cellar and her barn. That was why she'd decided to take the steeper way from the back of the farm up through the belt of forest and to her land. It was quicker, and if the logger's trucks hadn't torn it up too much she might spend the rest of the day getting a first load.
And do my shed and barn and cellar have enough room for all those seed potatoes? They need to be kept in a cool dark place until we plant. Needs must, we could bury them under straw in trenches, I suppose -
On the path-side tree was a wheel with eight spokes. A plank below it had letters burned into the wood: EWTWRF: AIHN, DAYW. Embracing the wheel was a huge pair of elk antlers-once the pride of her great-uncle's cabin-with a silver-painted crescent moon between them on the wheel's hub, points upward.
"That's the Wheel of the Year," Juniper said. "Crescent Moon for the Goddess; horns for the God, of course; we're the Singing Moon Coven, too. I put it up a long time ago, when I was in my new-convert, in-your-face phase."
"And the letters?"
"That's an acronym." She recited: "Eight Words The Wiccan Rede Fulfilclass="underline" An It Harm None, Do As Ye Will. It's our basic commandment, you might say. 'Rede' is just an old word for maxim or precept or advice."
Huge Oregon white oak and Douglas fir stood tall around them; the living musty-yeasty-green smell of the spring woods was strong. The woods were second growth, but the area hadn't been clear-cut since before World War I, and they'd been carefully managed for most of the time since, not to mention widely planted with valuable hardwoods like the walnut. Their rich mast of nuts and acorns attracted game, too.
Dappled sunlight flowed over the rutted dirt of the road in a moving kaleidoscope, and Eilir and Dennis strode ahead of the horses, signing to each other. Terry was curled up asleep on a nest of sacks behind them in the wagon, and the Jersey cow walked along tethered to its rear, with her calf following of its own accord. Sally looked much more herself with a few days' rest and food; also much more ready to ask questions. She gave Juniper an odd sidelong look.
"That's: ah: a very civilized maxim," she said, glancing over her shoulder as they passed the sign.
"True. It's also bloody difficult, if you take it seriously; it includes psychological harm, and it includes harming yourself. Very different from follow your whim."
"I: it's sort of difficult to believe you're actually a, ah: "
"Witch," Juniper said, grinning. She put an index finger on the tip of her nose and waggled it back and forth. "But this is broken, so I can't magic us up much in the way of goods."
At Sally's blank look, she went on: "Classical reference." And my collection of Bewitched episodes on tape useless, curse it.
"Anyway, the Craft is a religion-magic is sort of one aspect of it, not the whole thing-and anything you've heard about it is probably wrong. Or read, or seen in a movie especially."
That did get through, thankfully. At least my charitable impulse didn't saddle me with a fanatic who doesn't believe in 'suffering a Witch to live.' You found those in the most surprising places.
Juniper went on aloud: "My coven meets here, for the Sabbats and some Esbats; the Coven of the Singing Moon. We have a nemed, a sacred wood and: It's sort of a private faith; you won't find us knocking on doors, and we don't claim a monopoly on truth or think ourselves better than others."
Then she shrugged. "Well, being human, we actually do think we're better, but most of us try not to act like it. And: we did meet here. Goddess knows how many of my bunch are alive now."
"Is Dennie one of your: ah: coven?" Sally asked; she seemed to be having trouble making herself say certain words. "Ah: I'm a Buddhist myself."
"No; he's a blatant materialist, the poor man. And he's not Eilir's father, either; I know you were dying to ask. Or my lover. Eilir is living proof that you can get pregnant your first time: Is minic a chealg briathra m? cail? cr? na, as Mom used to say. Many a prudent girl was led astray with honeyed words. By smooth-talking football players in senior high; bad cess to him, but I can't regret Eilir."
Sally gave a chuckle of laughter. "She's a nice girl, even: "
She touched her leg where the wound from the crossbow bolt was healing nicely. Neither of them mentioned the fact that a few inches up and to the left and it would have cut her femoral artery and spilled all her life's blood on the road.
"She's a wonder, and that's the truth," Juniper said, happy for a moment. Thinking about Eilir usually made her feel that way. "Anyway, we're an eclectic Georgian group who favor Celtic symbolism; which means nothing to you, of course, but think of it as our equivalent of being Episcopalians."
"You're single, then?"
"No, handfasted." At Sally's blank look she went on: "Married, in Wiccaspeak. My man was in Eugene when things Changed. He's a systems analyst, of all things, but he loves the old music-that's how we met; and he's my High Priest. Think of it as being the vice-president of the coven." Softly: "Rudy's his name, Rudy Starn, and I'm trying not to think about him much. He'll know I've headed here, and I tell myself he'd want me to wait with Eilir until he comes, but it's hard, hard."
Then she held up a hand. Dennis had walked up to the crest of the ridge; that ought to give him a good view of the cabin, and he was using the binoculars as well. When he turned she stiffened in alarm, but he didn't seem frightened himself-just puzzled. And Eilir tore over the ridge and disappeared at a run, which she wouldn't do if there was anything to fear.