Foxheart

Chapter Thirty-One

Esme woke. She hurt. Everything felt bruised and her whole body was awash in goosebumps from the water that covered her. Very slowly, she peeled her eyes open. Her vision was blurry at first and gradually focused.

Swaying grass and trees surrounded her and strings of black hair covered her eyes. Insects roared in the dawn heat and birds twittered endlessly and the distant grumblings of cars were brought in by a gentle wind.

Carefully, Esme pushed herself onto her knees, sinking further into the water. She gazed about in confusion, not recalling much at first. She didn't quite understand why she was naked, covered in mod, cuts and on a riverbank. And then suddenly she remembered everything.

Her heart jumped to her throat.

'Fox.' She murmured in fear.

Billy had sold them out and worn out Absolon. They had been found by the White Wizards. They'd run and Fox had been shot twice before they jumped into the river.

Shaking, Esme scrabbled to her feet, barely keeping balance as the wet mud slipped beneath her. She looked about wildly. She couldn't see Fox, only the river, trees and the edges of Alton. Panic took her. Where was he?

Despite the sun, Esme felt cold. She shivered and hunkered down, covering her nakedness as she thought hurriedly. She had to think quickly. Absolon was with him, tired and unable to move, along with her Grimoire. She was vulnerable. Worse, if she didn't find Fox soon, he could die and she'd be lost.

And Fox would be dead.

She shook away the stab of fear and pushed away the grim images from her head and furrowed her brow. It took a few seconds to recall she wasn't entirely naked. Dangling between her small breasts was the whistle and pouch holding her precious stone.

She scooped the whistle up between her long fingers and twirled it in the morning light. Two mouth pieces, one made of steel and the other of wood. One Spirit and One God. She wouldn't call Everwood, not when his life would be on the line, and River Oak had only given her the ability to call for help from other Spirits around her; a cry they could ignore. She had little choice though.

Placing the metal mouth piece between her lips, Esme blew. She blew hard and long until her lungs gave out, desperately pleading that any Spirit nearby would listen. A shrill, eerie sound whistled from it, causing birds to take to the air and flee. It wasn't normal. It was magic.

Esme stopped to breath, sitting curled up on the banks of Willow, waiting. No one came. Heart sinking, Esme blew again. And again. And again. Fox and Absolon had to be found. She needed them both.

She kept whistling until her throat was raw, her lips parched and her eyes filled with tears. Nothing was responding to the sorrowful tune. Nothing.

Esme dropped the whistle to dangle between her breast. She had run out of ideas. Without her Grimoire she couldn't use magic. Without Absolon, she had no protection. Without Fox, she had no guide. She was stuck and lost without even clothes to dress her. It was over.

Feeling overwhelmed with despair, Esme sobbed into her knees, curling herself into a tighter ball. But her tears came to a sudden stop when a voice spoke.

'Why does it cry so pathetically?'

Esme's head shot up and instantly her gaze was locked by pale eyes. Peeking out of the river's surface was half a face. A Spirit's face.

'Who are you?' Esme stammered.

'River Willow, Spirit of this domain.' It slithered out of the water, revealing blood red and golden orange scales, pale white skin and a masculine body. Tiny water Sprites clung to his thick tail, laughing and giggling, which he pulled off to drop into the water with lazy motions. 'What is it called?'