Grayling's Song Read Online Free

belly aches with emptiness.”
In truth, it is more likely fear and vexation.
Captured and imprisoned on my first day!
Tears began to carve a path through the dust on her face.
    The edge folk ate and drank their fill and then, shouting and laughing, in such a mood as in other folk might call for songs and dancing, they retired to a clearing for wrestling, stabbing with sharp sticks, and caving in skulls with cudgels.
    Again Grayling struggled against the ropes that bound her to the tree. “See what you have done with your shape shifting, you stupid creature,” she muttered to the goat. “Would that I had never seen you, that the potions you ate had sickened you, that you would go away and trouble me no more.”
    â€œAlas, Gray Eyes, this mouse is bound to you.”
    â€œThen I fear more trouble is to come.” And there was silence.
    The shadows grew longer and the day dimmed as Grayling fell into an uneasy sleep, dreaming of goats changing into trees and Hannah Strong becoming a mouse and Grayling herself, helpless and screaming in a stew pot. She was awakened by the squeaking and rustling of some small creature. “Mouseling, is that you or a real mouse?” she whispered as she wiggled and stretched her aching limbs.
    â€œThis mouse
be
a real mouse.” Grayling felt a gnawing at the bonds on her ankles. “The shape shifting took it again, and the rope that held a goat proved too loose for a mouse. Now this mouse is free, and you will be too.”
    â€œDo hurry, mousie,” Grayling whispered, “afore they come back. They would have eaten the goat, and I believe they would consider eating me also.” She wiggled, hoping to break through the nibbled ropes. “Why could you not change into a knife or a hand ax?”
    The mouse continued chewing, and Grayling continued wiggling. The edge dwellers were still in the clearing, punching and pummeling each other, when, over the ruckus, she heard someone say, “Kimper comes soon. He will be pleased to see what we have caught for supper.”
    Kimper?
Now! She had to get free now! Grayling gave a final, frantic pull, and the rope snapped where the mouse had chewed. She struggled to her feet, which were stiff and somewhat numbed from being bound. Gathering up her skirt, she fled into the growing darkness, with the mouse scampering after her.
    The rising moon, as full as a flower, played hide-and-seek with Grayling as it darted behind the clouds and out again. Crashing into trunks and ducking under branches, she made her way through the trees to the road, where the mouse, breathing heavily, caught up with her. “This mouse will come with you, Gray Eyes,” it said between pants. “This mouse might yet be of more service to you.”
    â€œDoubtful,” she whispered, “but still . . .” She searched the road for her discarded basket. “Here ’tis.” She dropped the mouse into the basket and ran as fast as her shaking legs would let her.
They will not catch me and make a mouse-and-Grayling stew,
she vowed
. They will not!
    When the edge-dwellers’ camp was far behind them, Grayling found a spot off the road for a rest. The mouse climbed out of the basket, bits of watercress stuck to its chin. “I see you have had your supper,” Grayling said. “I would scold you for eating while I ran, but you did save us back there, mousie, so I will not.” She stopped and thought a minute. “I cannot always call you
mousie,
for you are at times a goat and even a frog, and I know not what is yet to come. Because you rescued me through your shape shifting, I shall call you . . .” She closed her eyes in thought. “Pook. I shall call you Pook.”
    The mouse cleaned the remaining bits of herbs from its whiskers. “Pook? Was he too a mouse?”
    â€œNay. Pookas are fairies, stubborn and annoying but most able shape shifters.”
    Pook sighed. “How this