Mausfjord’s grand, terrible mountain loomed on the horizon—Vucempeak, Vucemspear, or Vucempoop. She couldn’t remember the name and didn’t care. If she went diagonally toward the mountain, she could draw the infected away from the town and her friends, but it would also mean an increased distance to rejoin them.

  Faster than anticipated, the dormice neared the canopy. Risu ran along a branch and jumped, spreading her patagium. She soared toward the lonely mountain, and the Llygodeners’ growls shifted to roars.

  Two thunks sounded behind her—the dormice must’ve jumped down, but Risu couldn’t risk looking back. She glided until she reached another tree and ascended, repeating the process multiple times. The Llygodeners chased, but their moaning eventually quieted.

  She’d lost them. At least they weren’t heading toward any population centers. Blodtorstig’s plan must be to release the infected into cities that didn’t fall in line with him. They’d either beg him for help, get scared into submission, or die.

  Catching her breath, Risu changed course and turned right, heading toward Brekkatown. Hazy lines of smoke rose in the distance, darkening the clouds further. After an hour of gliding, she found Marsvin and Gwrth doubled over and panting. The urge to scold them bubbled to the surface, but Risu knew they were doing their best and shoved it down.

  When she landed, they wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  “Where’s Futoi?” Risu asked, eyes widening.

  Marsvin squinted into the darkness. “We got separated.”

  She pressed him. “Where?”

  “I don’t know. We heard a rustling. He told us to keep running, no matter what.”

  Heart sinking, she turned her back on him. “Do you think he stayed on the road?” She’d already lost one brother.

  Between gasps, sucking in air, Marsvin responded, “That road circles around Vucem’s Spear, all over the island. It goes to each of the Fingers.”

  Risu arched an eyebrow, and Gwrth waved a disdainful paw, mumbling, “Fingers are their gross names for the peninsulas around the island.”

  Not knowing where to find Futoi’s trail, if he even left one, she also couldn’t abandon Marsvin and Gwrth. They’d be helpless in a fight.

  While Futoi wasn’t helpless, he could be in danger. His leaving them behind to investigate a noise felt wrong. They weren’t telling her everything.

  Marsvin forced himself to stand up straight despite his wheezing. “Futoi will be safe. He’s big and strong and has his gerbil disguise.”

  “Fine,” Risu seethed. “What’s important about this Finger?”

  “The Finger I think my uncle is going to visit will remind you of home. There are scary ruins on it. The ruins around here were built in the same style as those back on Kinoumi. Cones made from stone. Do you remember fighting Itansha and that mean gopher guy who kidnapped Hagane’s da?”

  She wished to obliterate the memory of her fight in the ruins. That gopher Ironheart named Haisha had cut her, and she fought Itansha instead of listening to him. They could have worked together against that scary gopher, and she would have more range of motion in her leg. And maybe this whole crisis could have been averted, which would mean that Futoi wouldn’t be lost.

  “How is that possible? Those ruins on Kinoumi are ancient.” She wondered how stupid she sounded, as if her island was the only one with history.

  “So are these.” He put a paw on her shoulder. “There’s some connection between Mausfjord and the other islands. We have the same ruins and the original Gnaverwood tree. How cool is that?”

  “Congratulations on having trees.” Gwrth’s breathing had returned to normal and he swiped some hair from his eyes.

  Risu shook her head. “If everybody’s rested, we need to return to Brekkatown. I’ll take to the trees and keep watch.” After a sigh, she added, “And keep a lookout for Futoi. Let’s hope he’s safe.”

  Gwrth’s tone softened. “Will my clansrodents die?”

  Risu considered a few answers. She settled on, “I don’t know. I hope not.”

  “You saw them,” Gwrth replied. “They were going around like they were mindless. A husk after its nut was cleaned out. That’s not sick. That’s something else.”

  “Animal bites and scratches can make people sick if they get infections,” Marsvin said.

  Risu nodded. “If they’re sick, there has to be a cure. We just need to find it. And if anybody has it, I’d bet it’s that Fourstore creep.”

  “Forstor.” Marsvin let out a whimper. “What if they went to that town?”

  “Then we’re in over our heads.” Risu climbed the nearest tree, wishing she knew where the infected Llygodeners and Blodtorstig’s gang were now. She hoped she hadn’t steered them toward some other village she didn’t know about.

  Thoughts of Itansha recovering from his fall, suffering in a bed and shivering, streaked across her mind. “Let’s just focus on returning to Brekkatown. If we’re lucky, we’ll see my brother.” Risu bit the inside of her cheek, the way she always did when she lied. They wouldn’t get lucky.

  15

  My healing is done

  Healthy strides and breathing well

  How long have I slept?

  A breeze floated through the window in Itansha’s chamber off Blodtorstig’s hall, nudging him from restless sleep.

  During his bedridden recovery and preoccupied with the pain in his bones, Itansha almost forgot the stomach troubles which plagued him since landing on Mausfjord—crashing from a failed glide will do that. From Risu’s first meal, Itansha suffered indigestion and discomfort—likely his body adjusting to the restrictive Ghost diet over the last month. If it could cause stinky breath or gas, it was off the menu. He finally felt well enough to eat, and yet the only foods Risu would allow sounded repugnant, yet that was all she left by his bedside. His heart fluttered, realizing she visited him while he’d slept.

  Sitting straight in his firm bed, Itansha pushed around carrots and rice with his chopsticks instead of the food-weapons the Mausfjorders used—they’d stab and slice their food at the table, proving their barbarism.

  Since the ground was too dry to plant, the Mausfjorders used coins instead of rice to purchase goods, meaning Itansha and Risu had no choice but to eat through the supply they’d brought and hidden—perhaps the supply was tainted.

  How Risu found time to prepare food was beyond him, but she delivered each meal, always refusing to list the ingredients: Ghost secrets she wouldn’t share. She’d threatened to put pellets and husks in the next batch if he kept asking.

  His insides somersaulted, and he squinted at the food cluster in his chopsticks. Shaved carrot, rice, and a sliver of something else. He sniffed. Mushroom.

  Odd.

  He bit, chewed, and let the taste hang. No change. Risu must have been dicing up unrecognizable mushrooms in his meals too fine for him to notice.

  The door whooshed open like someone kicked it.

  Forstor entered, carrying a wooden crate in gloved paws. The crate was sealed and swayed in his grip. Itansha’s stomach tightened, but not from the nausea.

  Forstor’s voice was gravelly and restrained. “Feeling better, ya?” The wooden door slammed behind him.

  Wincing, Itansha rose, mind too muddled to speak Mausfjorder.

  Eyes glued to Itansha, Forstor knelt, placing the crate on the floor. Something stirred inside it, even though it seemed only big enough for a few books.

  A small animal, then? Like a raccoon or a rabbit?

  Ears stiff like a badger’s over a cornered bird, Forstor grasped the crate’s lid, fingers twitching. Itansha inhaled deeply and searched for his opening to defend himself or escape. As the crate’s lid creaked and the movement inside intensified, Itansha jumped out of bed, slowed by his injuries.

  Gritting his teeth, Itansha gasped in broken Mausfjorder, “What. You. Doing?”

  A flash of gray fur leapt from the crate with a hiss, and Itansha felt a dry pinch against his arm. Pain seared.

  He swatted at the mass of leaping fur. It was a rabbit, acting unlike any wild animal he’d ever seen. By the time he plucked the deranged bunny off, Forstor was at the door, closing it.

  Clank!

  Slammed and bolted. Alone with this rabbit, Itansha jumped back. The small animal frothed at the mouth and stared at him. One eye was full of hunger and mindless rage and the other dull and lifeless, a sickly yellow-green. The rabbit lunged again, and Itansha dodged, wincing as his body revolted against every action. This deranged lagomorph had the same lifeless green eye as Gwrth’s father.

  Itansha limped for the open window.

  With another growl, the rabbit charged and bit Itansha on the ankle. He couldn’t be sure if the first bite broke his skin, but this time, the teeth dug in. Wincing, he tore off his cloak, revealing the Ghost jacket underneath, risking exposure in the broad daylight, but either this disease would kill him or falling from the window would.

  Unless he could glide again without falling.

  Panting, he inserted his thumbs through the sails on his jacket and climbed onto the window ledge, finally shaking the rabbit off his hindpaw. Itansha clenched his teeth so hard he threatened to chip one; he leapt from the window and spread his sail. If he could reach Trevlig’s home, he might receive care. But between his physical injuries, his intestinal problems, and whatever disease this rabbit had, he wondered how much time he really had before death or madness claimed him.

  Ironhearts knew death was inevitable. His father had killed Risu’s brother. Perhaps making Itansha the Ghost was Risu’s revenge against his family. Maybe she never cared about him.

  Tears filled his eyes as he approached the ground, and his mouth dried.

  16

  No, No, No, No, NO

  Why, why, why, why, why, why, why?

  Please. Don’t leave me here.

  Noka’s Moon Chart: Who cares?

  Risu stopped turning over the soil by Trevlig’s house; she had to investigate the thud and groan.

  She knelt onto the stupid dry dirt, nudging Itansha. He couldn’t die here, wearing the Ghost gear, which he only wore because he cared about her.

  A light wheeze came, so not quite dead.

  Close to hyperventilating from anxiety, Risu rolled him to his side. Husks, he must’ve been in agony. She wouldn’t let him die. Not after all they’d been through. Not with a book’s worth of things she needed to tell him. Husk it all, he wasn’t allowed.

  She tried to lift him to sit, bracing him with her paw. He let out a light groan, and his eyes opened.

  One was green. Just like Gwrth’s dad.

  “I’ll find a way to save you,” she promised as she laid him back down. Rising and retreating a step, she decided to find help from someone more levelheaded than her.

  Anyone who got in her way would have a bad day.

  17

  Bringing metals and our departed together makes our tools and weapons strong and us stronger.

  - Florri’s Epics

  12 days until Vucemfest

  Trevlig’s cramped house carried a farm’s earthen odor. Perhaps that was Risu and Futoi’s influence, but Marsvin couldn’t be sure, since they were both outside working. Wearing his famous old-man stare, Trevlig absorbed Marsvin’s tale of what happened two nights before.

  When the silence lingered, Marsvin shifted in his seat. “I don’t know what Uncle Blodtorstig is doing, but I know it’s wrong. Whatever it is, I want to stop him.”

  Trevlig squinted and rose, leaning on his walking staff. His too-long top left whisker brushed against his staff’s gnarled tree root top. “It’s not just me, boy. Half of Rattavits opposes your uncle.” He scratched his gray chin and sighed. “That’s why he released those infected slaves outside the town if your story is true.”

  “So they’d be scared and want his protection.” Reality hit Marsvin like an icy wave.

  Trevlig waved his staff a few inches from Marsvin’s face. “There will be a reckoning if Blodtorstig doesn’t share the food. Most of us don’t want war with the Kinoumi. Gods, we didn’t want one with Llygoden. Our land is broken, boy. We’ll fix it with work, not war.”

  Marsvin rose on the balls of his hindpaws. “What can I do to help?”

  Trevlig pointed at the door with his staff. “Do nothing and say nothing. You look too much like your uncle for anyone to listen to you or take you seriously.”

  Shoulders slumped, Marsvin turned toward the door.

  Trevlig cleared his throat. “Find your friend, the blacksmith girl. I heard she was searching for you.”

  As Marsvin walked into the sunlight, the thought of Hagane lifted his spirits.

  Hagane!

  She knew how to help Risu, Trevlig—everybody. Even Gwrth. After a few minutes of walking, he found Hagane at the smithy, covered in soot. A small seagull watched her work, probably wondering if she had any food. Jagged bits of metal lay strewn near a water bucket. The dented and scratched anvil had seen better days.

  Hagane jogged toward him, holding out something which glinted in the sunlight.

  Marsvin gazed into her deep brown eyes. His lip trembled. “I’m so proud of you.” The grass under his hindpaws felt warmer than expected in the autumn winds.

  She let out a tight sigh, eyebrows drawn, paws shaking. “I wanted you to try first.” She pawed him the new tool for shaping wood—a plane—her first steel implement.

  “Vucem’s Whiskers, this is amazing. I can’t wait to finish my boat.”

  “Thank you,” Hagane said. “And are you sure you’re alright? After what you saw with those Llygodeners…”

  Marsvin’s shoulders slumped as all his enthusiasm drained. At least the new tool was beautiful.

  “I’m sorry,” Hagane said. “I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. It’s just with them and those boats you’re making…”

  Seagulls honked nearby, fighting over some small insect. They were rowdier than they’d been before Marsvin left the island. A kid from town huddled in a nearby bush with a bow, stalking a pitiful meal for his family.

  Marsvin looked around and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I have a plan for my boats.”

  Hagane’s eyebrows relaxed, and her mouth curled into a smile so radiant the sun would’ve been jealous. “Plan?”

  Marsvin rotated the steel tool so the blade caught a glint of sunlight. “I’m working on a surprise for Gwrth; I want to ask Risu to free the Llygodeners here. And we can sneak them onto the boats me and my da built. They can sail to Kinoumi. Some of them know bits of the language, and Gwrth speaks well. They can live free with the other Llygodeners Risu saved before we left Kinoumi.”

  Hagane leaned back and her full apron pocket swayed. “How do you plan on hiding this from your dad?”

  Marsvin shook his head and dug his toe into the dirt. “It’s a secret.”

  “This won’t stop that spreading sickness or what’s already been done to the Llygodeners. And what did Risu say?”

  Marsvin’s lip trembled again. “I wanted to tell you first.”

  Smile returning, she smoothed out her apron and blinked a few times. “Why would you want to do that?”

  Marsvin inched forward. Somehow, taking a single step now was more difficult than all of his journeys with Risu.

  Hagane leaned forward, too.

  A seagull honked, followed by a rushed flutter of wings. It flew directly between them, surprising Marsvin into backing away. That stalking kid must have missed his shot at the bird and his chance for a meal.

  Marsvin’s insides danced like Da after too much mead.

  Risu’s voice rang out nearby. “Marsvin!” She and Gwrth ran toward them over the sparse grass between buildings. Dirt coated Risu’s farmer’s outfit, and a wide-eyed expression replaced Gwrth’s ever-present scowl.

  Marsvin and Hagane jogged over to meet them.

  “It’s Itansha,” Risu said breathlessly. “I found him in the dirt near your uncle’s hall.”

  “What happened?” Hagane asked.

  Lip trembling, Risu lifted a shaky finger to her eye. “It’s green.”

  Marsvin gasped, but Hagane stared at the two of them.

  Gwrth grunted. “He got infected. The same thing my poppy got. They’ll kill him.”

  “Or us,” Hagane said.

  “Yeah,” Gwrth said. “We should chain him up before he goes crazy and attacks us.”

  Marsvin’s heart sank into his stomach. For all the rodents he knew on Mausfjord, he didn’t know any healers, and he had no way of asking without inviting difficult questions from his parents.

  Risu clenched a fist.

  18

  Ghosts need composure

  Inconspicuous patience

  Don’t ever lash out

  Noka’s Moon Chart: 3 days left to plant

  Hating herself, Risu shouted at Gwrth, “Itansha isn’t infected. It won’t happen to him!” She shouted loud enough to startle a nearby seagull. The wobbly white bird took wing, darting toward Brekkatown.

  A firm, calloused paw rested on her shoulder. Hagane’s.

  Heat and anger drained from Risu’s face. She wished she believed in Grandma’s forest spirits so she’d have someone to pray to.

  Staring through his shaggy hair, Gwrth huffed. “Shouting at me? Over the truth?”

  He didn’t deserve this. The poor kid had been through so much already. Risu sighed and sheathed her trowel-knife. “I’m sorry about your dad.” She was a monster. No wonder nobody liked her. No wonder she was failing.

 

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