Spindle Wood (COMPLETED)

Chapter 37

Pat bounced up to the cottage and burst through the door like a beam of sun. "Hiya, I'm home!" He called. Virgil glanced up from sewing.

"Hello, Pat." He smiled at the boy. "Where's Remus?"

Pat shrugged. "Uncle Remus wanted me to come home early." He said. "But look!" He held up a handful of slightly wilted green leaves, most of them crushed in an effort to collect as many as possible. "Garlic!"

Pat chucked his shoes under the coats stand and ran over to the counter, setting the wild garlic down. "I thought that when Uncle Remus gets home, he could teach me how to make the bread he made last year. You know, the one for Easter."

Virgil nodded. "That's a lovely idea, Pat." He smiled again and looked back at his sewing.

"Papa?" Pat asked. He hoisted himself onto the counter-top and swung his legs. "Is it just me or is the forest really quiet?"

Virgil glanced up at Pat through his fringe. "Quiet?" He repeated. Pat nodded, looking out of the window almost wistfully.

"Usually there's loads of birds tweeting and talking but there's nothing." Pat said. "Absolutely nothing."

Virgil shrugged. "It's getting late in the year, Pat." He explained. "It'll be Autumn soon. Maybe the birds are just getting a head-start on migration."

Pat shrugged. "Yeah, maybe." He shrugged again and jumped off the counter-top, landing with a thud. Without another word, he ran up the stairs to his room.

Virgil settled back into his chair. Pat was right, the forest around their house had been unusually quiet for a while. Maybe it was a side-effect of Virgil's protection spell? But it had never happened before...

Before he could mull it over anymore, Pat shot back down the stairs. There was a tattered book under his arm but he was moving too fast that Virgil couldn't read the title.

"I need to go out!" Pat declared, plonking down on the ground to pull his shoes on.

"But you just got back?" Virgil said. Pat shook his head.

"I know." He jumped up. "But I have something I really need to do. Bye." And he was gone.

"Hi, hi, hi, I'm sorry!" Logan looked up as Pat came barrelling through the trees. "I'm late, I know, I had to go into town with my Uncle and then I went home and I nearly forgot but look!" Pat took a huge gasp of air and held a book out proudly. "I got a book!"

"Oh?" Logan asked, confused, as Pat sat down next to him. Logan was sitting very carefully - knees drawn up to his chest - so he wouldn't stain his clothes but Pat just flung himself at the ground, grinning. It was strange, to say the least.

"Well," Pat took another breath, ready to explain, "you said you want to be a librarian, right? So, you must like books!" Pat pushed the book onto Logan's hand. "I don't really read this one anymore so I thought you'd like it."

Logan picked the book up. A quick flick through showed the pages were well-worn, curled around the edges and yellowing slightly. It had that old book smell Logan couldn't help but love. The cover had been green once but most of the paint had peeled off, leaving it rather grey. There was a small engraving on the cover, Logan thought it could be a cottage. In curly black print on the front, it said:

A Brief History of the Land Here and Beyond
By J. L Grimme

"Pat, you really didn't have to." Logan said, staring at the book. He pushed his glasses up his nose.

"I wanted to." Pat said. His grin faded slightly as he took in Logan's expression. "Do you not like it?"

"No, no! It's," Logan looked up at Pat, finding it hard to string a sentence together, "it's... Thank you." He smiled. "Sincerely, thank you so much."

Pat grinned. He shuffled closer to Logan. "I'm glad you like it." He said. "I thought it might not be grown-up enough for you. You're probably reading really big things like..." Pat trailed off. Then, he shrugged. "I don't know many books. What're you reading?"

"I'm struggling through The Count of Monte Cristo." Logan confessed. "It's a fantastic plot but such a long book." He pushed his glasses up his nose again. "This will be a lot easier."

Pat grinned. He was so close now he was practically leaning his head on Logan's shoulder. "I'm glad." He said. Logan looked back at his present.

He was glad too, it appeared. Perhaps too glad that Pat hadn't forgotten him.

Is this boy still 12? How long has he been 12?
Bye,
Blaize