The Last Scarecrow

38 | Name Day

The mannequins and the birds worked tirelessly through the darkest night that Erin could remember. Despite the dying embers that lit the courtyard, they respectfully cleared the bodies of Redkites and mannequins and fallen birds, brushed away mountains of ash, stacked the scorched logs, and piled up discarded weapons.

Erin and Marshall carried Twelve into the barn. Removing the front wall, they settled her inside the haybale fortress, before making their way to the farmhouse to sleep until dawn. When they rose and ventured out into the courtyard, the horizon was filled with the most glorious sunrise. It reminded Erin of a vanilla and raspberry ice-cream sundae.

HMS Fortitude sat in front of the rising sun, her patchwork sails blowing in the wind, a spiral of birds circling overhead.

Erin paced eagerly across the courtyard, signalling for Marshall to follow.

"Where are you going?"

"I have an idea."

In the farthest corner of the bar, Erin moved empty boxes and clutter until she came upon her mother's wheelchair.

"I fished it out of The Endless Blue and dragged it up the hill during The Many Years Storm. I was keeping it for—" she paused, absent-mindedly dusting down the arm rests. "Well, now I know."

Erin opened the wheelchair evenly. The leather seat folded down perfectly between the large rubber wheels.

"It's for Twelve," she told Marshall.

"I know," he smiled.

Twelve peered over the top of the hay bale fortress, watching the beautiful sunrise through the bar doors. "The world is changing," she said, as Erin and Marshall approached. "I thought I was imagining it for a while, but it's real, all of it. The dark last night, the colours in the sky this morning, the wind on my face. Are things are going back to the way they were before?"

Erin wasn't entirely sure, but she gave the scarecrow a shallow nod anyway. "We brought you a chair," she said. "You'll be able to move around. Just like before, but, you know, on wheels."

"Like Number Five?"

"Yes," Erin said, biting her lip. "Just like Five."

Twelve considered the wheelchair for a moment.

"Looks perfect," she said, but her voice was sad.

"What is it?" Erin said, sensing the scarecrow's dismay.

"Is it the chair?" Marshall said. "You'll get used to it in no time."

"It's not that," Twelve said. "I love the chair. It's—" she stumbled on her words. "I don't want to be the last scarecrow."

"The last scarecrow?"

"Five and Eight are gone. I keep wondering where the other nine are. Are they out there somewhere? Did they survive the Many Years Storm? Or were they drowned by the rain, smashed to smithereens by the ice storms, torn from their crosses and thrown around the world by the wind?"

"I don't know," Erin said. "If you want, we can go and find—"

"No," Twelve said quickly. "I'm in no state for adventure anymore."

"You shouldn't let the wheelchair hold you back," Marshall said.

The scarecrow sighed woefully.

"All this travelling and fighting has really taken it out of me. I need to rest. I need to sleep— but I cannot. I don't know how."

Crawling into the hay bale fortress, Erin knelt at the scarecrow's side.

"There's no rush. We've got our whole lives in front of us. I know exactly how you feel. I believe Clyde is out there somewhere. Your sisters too. All I want to do is find him and hold him and bring him home. But now is not the time. We'll stay here a while and then, when you're ready, we'll borrow HMS Fortitude and go in search of them all!"