That was weird, Seth said.
How could they be strong enough to lift it?
There were a few of them. Want me to flip it again?
No, I’m scared the mirror will fall off and break.
Okay. He draped his towel over his shoulder. I’m
going to go change.
Would you take the mirror?
Fine, but I’m running. I don’t want to get stung.
Seth moved toward the mirror slowly, snatched it, and
ran off into the garden toward the house. Part of the swarm
gave lazy pursuit before scattering.
Kendra wrapped the towel around her waist, picked up
the sunblock Seth had left behind, and started toward the
house.
When Kendra reached the attic playroom, Seth was
dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved camouflage shirt. He
picked up the cereal box that served as his emergency survival
kit and headed for the door.
Where are you going?
None of your business, unless you want to come.
How will I know whether I want to come if you don’t
tell me where you’re going?
Seth gave her a measuring stare. Promise to keep it a
secret?
Let me guess. Into the woods.
Want to come?
You’ll get Lyme disease, Kendra warned.
Whatever. Ticks are everywhere. Same with poison
ivy. If people let that stop them, nobody would ever go anywhere.
But Grandpa Sorenson doesn’t want us in the woods,
she protested.
Grandpa isn’t going to be around all day. Nobody will
know unless you blab.
Don’t do this. Grandpa has been nice to us. We should
obey him.
You’re about as brave as a bucket of sand.
What’s so brave about disobeying Grandpa?
So you’re not coming?
Kendra hesitated. No.
Will you tell on me?
If they ask where you are.
I won’t be long.
Seth walked out the door. She heard him tromp down
the stairs.
Kendra crossed to the nightstand. The handheld mirror
rested on it beside the ring with the three tiny keys. She
had spent a long time the night before trying to find what
the keys fit. The biggest key opened a jewelry box on the
dresser that was full of costume jewelry-fake diamond
necklaces, pearl earrings, emerald pendants, sapphire rings,
and ruby bracelets. She had not yet discovered what the
other two opened.
She picked up the keys. They were all small. The smallest
was no longer than a thumbtack. Where could she find
such a miniscule keyhole?
The night before, she had spent most of her time on
drawers and toy chests. Some of the drawers had keyholes,
but they were already unlocked, and the keys did not fit.
Same with the toy chests.
The Victorian dollhouse caught her attention. What
better place to find tiny keyholes than inside a little house?
She unlatched the clasps and opened it, revealing two
floors and several rooms full of miniature furniture. Five
doll people lived in the house-a father, a mother, a son, a
daughter, and a baby.
The detail was extraordinary. The beds had quilts, blankets,
sheets, and pillows. The couches had removable cushions.
The knobs in the bathtub really turned. Closets had
clothes hanging inside.
The armoire in the dollhouse’s master bedroom made
Kendra suspicious. It had a disproportionately large keyhole
in the center. Kendra inserted the tiniest key and turned it.
The doors of the armoire sprung open.
Inside was something wrapped in gold foil-opening it,
she saw it was a piece of chocolate shaped like a rosebud.
Behind the chocolate she found a small golden key. She
added it to the key ring. The golden key was larger than
the key that opened the armoire, but smaller than the key
that opened the jewelry box.
Kendra took a bite of the chocolate rosebud. It was soft
and melted in her mouth. It was the richest, creamiest
bites, savoring each mouthful.
Kendra continued scouring the tiny house, investigating
every piece of furniture, searching every closet, checking
behind every miniature painting on the walls. Finding
no more keyholes, she closed the dollhouse and fastened
the clasps.
Scanning the room, Kendra tried to decide where to
look next. One key left, maybe two if the golden key also
opened something. She had been through most of the
items in the toy chests, but she could always double-check.
She had searched through the drawers in the nightstands,
dressers, and wardrobes thoroughly, as well as the knickknacks
on the bookshelves. There could be keyholes in
unlikely places, like under the clothes of a doll or behind a
bedpost.
Kendra ended up beside the telescope. Improbable as it
seemed, she checked it for keyholes. Nothing.
Maybe she could use the telescope to locate Seth.
Opening the window, she noticed Dale walking along the
lawn at the outskirts of the woods. He was carrying something
in both hands, but his back was to her, impeding a
view of what he held. He stooped and set it down behind
a low hedge, which continued to prevent her from seeing
the object. Dale walked off at a brisk pace, glancing around
as if to ensure nobody was spying, and soon passed out of
view.
Curious, Kendra rushed downstairs and out the back
door. Dale was nowhere in sight. She trotted across the
lawn to the low hedge beneath the attic window. Grass
continued for about six feet beyond the hedge before
stopping abruptly at the perimeter of the forest. On the
grass behind the hedge rested a large pie tin full of milk.
An iridescent hummingbird hung suspended over the
pie tin, wings a faint blur. Several butterflies flitted around
the hummingbird. Occasionally one would descend and
splash in the milk. The hummingbird flew away, and a
dragonfly approached. It was a smaller crowd than the mirror
had attracted, but there was much more activity than
Kendra would have expected around a small pool of milk.
She watched as a variety of tiny winged animals came
and went, feeding from the pie tin. Did butterflies drink
milk? Did dragonflies? Apparently so. It was not long before
the level of milk in the pie tin had markedly fallen.
Kendra looked up at the attic. It had only two windows,
both facing the same side of the house. She visualized
the room behind those gabled windows and suddenly
realized that the playroom consumed only half the space
the attic should fill.
Abandoning the tin of milk, she walked around to the
opposite side of the house. On the far side was a second
pair of attic windows. She was right. There was another
half to the attic. But she knew of no other stairway granting
access to the uppermost story. Which meant there
might be some sort of secret p
assage in the playroom!
Maybe the final key unlocked it!
Just as she decided to return to the attic and search for
a hidden door, Kendra noticed Dale coming from the direction
of the barn with another pie tin. She hurried toward
him. When he saw her coming, he looked temporarily
uncomfortable, then put on a big smile.
What are you doing? Kendra asked.
Just taking some milk to the house, he replied, changing
direction a bit. He had been heading toward the woods.
Really? Why’d you leave that other milk behind the
hedge?
Other milk? He could not have looked more guilty.
Yeah. The butterflies were drinking it.
Dale was no longer walking. He regarded Kendra
shrewdly. Can you keep a secret?
Sure.
Dale looked around as if someone might be watching.
We have a few milking cows. They make plenty of milk,
so I put out some of the excess for the insects. Keeps the
garden lively.
Why’s that a secret?
I’m not sure your grandfather would approve. Never
asked permission. He might consider it wasteful.
Seems like a good idea to me. I noticed all the different
kinds of butterflies in your garden. More than I’ve ever
seen. Plus all the hummingbirds.
He nodded. I like it. Adds to the atmosphere.
So you weren’t taking that milk to the house.
No, no. This milk hasn’t been pasteurized. Full of bacteria.
You could catch all sorts of diseases. Not fit for
people. Insects, on the other hand, they seem to like it best
this way. You won’t spoil my secret?
I’ll keep quiet.
Good girl, he said with a conspiratorial wink.
Where are you putting that one?
Over there. He jerked his head toward the woods. I
set a few on the border of the yard every day.
Does it spoil?
I don’t leave it out long enough. Some days the insects
consume all the milk before I collect the pans. Thirsty
critters.
See you later, Dale.
You seen your brother hereabout?
I think he’s in the house.
That so?
She shrugged. Maybe.
Kendra turned and started toward the house. She
glanced back as she mounted the stairs to the rear porch.
Dale was placing the milk behind a small, round bush.
The Ivy Shack
Seth pressed through dense undergrowth until he
reached a faint, crooked path, the kind made by animals.
Nearby stood a squat, gnarled tree with thorny leaves
and black bark. Seth examined his sleeves for ticks, scrutinizing
the camouflage pattern. So far he had not seen a
single tick. Of course, it would probably be the ticks he
failed to see that would get him. He hoped the insect repellent
he had sprayed on was helping.
Stooping, he collected rocks and built a small pyramid
to mark the point where he had intersected the path.
Finding his way back would probably be no problem, but
better safe than sorry. If he took too long, Grandpa might
figure out he had disobeyed orders.
Rummaging in his cereal box, Seth withdrew a
compass. The animal track ran northeast. He had set off on
an easterly course, but the undergrowth had grown denser
as he progressed. A faint trail was a good excuse to veer
slightly off course. It would be much easier going than trying
to hack his way through shrubbery with a pocketknife.
He wished he owned a machete.
Seth followed the trail. The tall trees stood fairly close
together, diffusing the sunlight into a greenish glow laced
with shadows. Seth imagined that the forest would be black
as a cave after nightfall.
Something rustled in the bushes. He paused, removing
a small pair of plastic binoculars from his cereal box.
Scanning the area, he spotted nothing of interest.
He proceeded along the trail until an animal emerged
from the undergrowth onto the path not twenty feet ahead.
It was a round, bristly creature no taller than his knees. A
porcupine. The animal started down the path in his direction
with complete confidence. Seth froze. The porcupine
was close enough that he could discern the individual
quills, slender and sharp.
As the animal trundled toward him, Seth backed away.
Weren’t animals supposed to flee from humans? Maybe it
had rabies. Or maybe it just hadn’t see him. After all, he
was wearing a camouflage shirt.
Seth spread his arms wide, stomped a foot, and growled.
The porcupine looked up, twitched its nose, and then
turned from the path. Seth listened as it pushed through
foliage away from the trail.
He took a deep breath. He had been really scared for a
minute there. He could almost feel the quills pricking
through his jeans into his leg. It would be pretty hard to
conceal his excursion into the woods if he came home
looking like a pincushion.
Though he dreaded admitting it, he wished Kendra had
come. The porcupine probably would have made her
scream, and her fear would have increased his bravery. He
could have made fun of her instead of feeling frightened
himself. He had never seen a porcupine in the wild before.
He was surprised how exposed he felt staring at all those
pointy quills. What if he stepped on one in the undergrowth?
He looked around. He had come a long way. Of course,
finding his way back would be no trick. He just needed to
backtrack along the trail and then head west. But if he
turned for home now, he might never make it back this
way again.
Seth continued along the trail. Some of the trees had
moss and lichen growing on them. A few had ivy twisting
around their bases. The path forked. Checking his compass,
Seth saw that one path went northwest, the other due east.
Staying with his theme, Seth turned east.
There began to be more space between the trees, and
the shrubs grew closer to the ground. Soon he could see
much farther in all directions, and the forest became a little
brighter. To one side of the path, at the limit of his sight,
he noticed something abnormal. It looked like a large
square of ivy hidden among the trees. The whole point of
exploring the woods was to find strange things, so he left
the path and walked toward the ivy square.
The dense undergrowth came up to his shins, grasping
at his ankles with every step. As he tromped toward the
square, he realized it was a structure completely overgrown
with ivy. It appeared to be a big shed.
He stopped and looked more closely. The ivy was thick
enough that he could not tell what the shed was made of ——
he could see only leafy vines. He walked around the structure.
On the far side a door stood open. Seth almost cried
out when he peered inside.
The shed was actually a shack constructed around a
large tree stump. Beside the stump, dressed in crude rags,
sat a wiry old
woman gnawing at a knot in a bristly rope.
Shriveled with age, she clutched the rope in bony hands
with knobby knuckles. Her long, white hair was matted
and had a sickly yellowish tint. One of her filmy eyes was
terribly bloodshot. She was missing teeth, and there was
blood on the knot she was chewing, apparently from her
gums. Her pale arms, bare almost to the shoulder, were thin
and wrinkled, with faint blue veins and a few purple scabs.
When the woman saw Seth, she dropped the rope
immediately, wiping pink saliva from the corners of her
meager lips. Supporting herself against the stump, she stood
up. He noticed her long feet, the color of ivory, peppered
with insect bites. Her gray toenails looked thick with
fungus.
Hail, young master, what brings you to my home? Her
voice was incongruently melodious and smooth.
For a moment, Seth could only stare. Even as bent and
crooked as she was, the woman was tall. She smelled bad.
You live out here? he finally said.
I do. Care to come inside?
Probably not. I’m just out for a walk.
The woman narrowed her eyes. Strange place for a boy
to walk alone.
I like exploring. My grandpa owns this land.
Owns it, you say?
Does he know you’re here? asked Seth.
Depends who he is.
Stan Sorenson.
She grinned. He knows.
The rope she had chewed lay on the dirt floor. It had
one other knot besides the one she had been gnawing.
Why were you biting the rope? Seth asked.
She eyed him suspiciously. I don’t care for knots.
Are you a hermit?
You could say that. Come inside and I will brew some
tea.
I better not.
She looked down at her hands. I must look frightful.
Let me show you something. She turned and crouched
behind the stump. A rat ventured a few steps out of a hole
in a corner of the shack. When she came back from behind
the stump, the rat hid.
The old woman sat with her back to the stump. She
held a little wooden puppet about nine inches high. It
looked primitive, made entirely of dark wood, with no
clothes or painted features. Just a basic human figure with
tiny gold hooks serving as joints. The puppet had a stick in
its back. The woman set a paddle on her lap. She began
making the puppet dance by bobbing the stick and tapping
the paddle. There was a musical regularity to the rhythm.
What is that thing? Seth asked.
A limberjack, she replied.