Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 142916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“I’m here, Evi,” she called out to the child, raising one arm and waving so her hand could be seen above the taller grasses. “Come help me.”
Evi Van Wieren was considered a wild child, much like Silke had always been. The thought made Silke laugh, remembering how many times Fenja had found her in the meadow or forest late at night, usually gardening or practicing the art of demon slaying. She’d driven Fenja to distraction, disappearing for hours on end, always ending up in one of her two favorite places. When she’d been a child, her disappearances had been alarming. Now, Fenja was used to her spending hours alone.
Evi raced across the meadow, a little dynamo, arms flapping wildly, cheeks rosy red and eyes bright. She nearly ran Silke over before she could put on the brakes, skidding a little as she dug her heels in to keep from hitting her friend. As it was, she had to jump over the basket of black pearl plants Silke was transplanting.
Evi flung herself into the grass beside Silke. “I knew I could find you. You always come here.” She sounded joyful. Triumphant. “The other kids don’t know you come out this far, and I never tell them.”
Silke never told the other children where she went when she disappeared during the day. She liked her solitude. Her time for training and gardening was important to her. This particular section of the forest was a distance from the village, and she worried about the children getting hurt on their way to find her. She loved them and spent time telling them stories and listening to each of them.
Children were a great source of information if adults would just listen. They told what they saw and overheard from their own perspective. Adults talked as if they weren’t present, yet the children could repeat almost verbatim the conversations they eavesdropped on.
Certain children in their village, like Evi, were very sensitive. Silke believed they had gifts, and she listened when they were nervous around someone. Or had taken an aversion to an outsider for no reason, even if that tourist seemed to be very sweet and friendly.
Evi leaned into her, a brief, momentary giveaway that she needed Silke’s company even more than she wanted to be the one who knew her secret location.
“Having a hard day, my little dragonfly?” She always called Evi her dragonfly. She flitted around, usually joyous, a colorful character in the bright hues she loved to wear, but she could be fierce in her defense of her friends—and Silke.
Silke wrapped one arm around the child’s shoulders and then wiggled her dirty fingers as if she might get the bright blue dress Evi wore. Evi giggled but didn’t attempt to pull away. She never worried if her dresses or bright tutus went home smeared with dirt. Half the time she lost her shoes or sweater somewhere. It was Tora and Silke who always found the child’s belongings and returned them to her parents, Finn and Emma.
Silke loved being around the children, but Evi was her absolute favorite. She was a joyous child, her attitude always one of happiness and abandonment. She saw good in most things. And she loved the myths and legends in the stories told to her. She saw fairies, dragons and moss maidens, and talked about the creatures often, uncaring if adults or some of the other children teased her. Not many children dared tease her too much. Evi’s older brother, Jelte, was handy with his fists if anyone dared upset his little sister.
“I sometimes wish I didn’t have to go to my friend Julia’s house to spend the night. She likes to invite me, and Mama thinks I should go.”
To Silke, the child sounded as if she were asking if she should go. Evi and Julia had been friends practically since they were born. The two girls couldn’t be more opposite in looks, Evi with her thick, straight blond hair and Julia with her dark shiny cap of curls, but they’d always been good friends. Silke hated to see the two girls at odds.
Silke waited for more. She couldn’t imagine that the girls had had a falling-out without her hearing about it. She hugged Evi and then handed her the basket containing the flowers she was planting. Deliberately, she went back to work.
“I’m listening, dragonfly.”
Evi sighed dramatically because everything the child did or said, she did so with flair. “I love Julia.” She paused, a perfectly timed dramatic moment to build her revelation. “And her mom.” Again, the theatrical pause. This time, Evi looked around to ensure they were alone. “I used to like her father.” She whispered the last.
Alarm skittered down Silke’s spine. Evi loved nearly everyone in the village. The ones she didn’t love, she liked. The child didn’t have a mean bone in her body. She was happiness personified. Something was very off to have Evi suddenly take a dislike to Julia’s father. Surely the man hadn’t touched her inappropriately. There was no hint of such behavior in the past. When Silke was around him, he never felt “off” to her. She generally recognized a taint on anyone who had certain proclivities.