LAKE OF THE SWANS
Book 2 of 3
Chapter 36
The following morning, Laureal looked on while Emma took a tiny vial from the family’s medicine kit. Inside the dark green ceramic vial sealed with beeswax was a liquid derivative of the nightshade plant. Also known as belladonna, the invasive species from Europe had spread throughout most of southern Canada in the 21st century.
Emma carefully handed the vial to her granddaughter, “Dear, I know I’ve told you before, but I must tell you again, if you get so much as a single drop of this on your skin, you’ll be good for nothing all day. Two drops and you’ll sleep until this time tomorrow. Three drops, and you may never wake up.”
From her childhood, Laureal had been warned that she was never to touch the vial, lest she die. And if she didn’t die, she’d get a whipping to make her wish she had. Presently, she accepted the vial with a healthy measure of trepidation along with an anxious desire to get on with the business of securing Weya’s safety.
“Allow two drops to soak into a piece of bacon, then feed it to Weya directly,” Emma instructed, “Two drops only! Once you’ve given it to her, do not let her out of your sight. Tempt her with small bacon treats if you must but keep her around. She will soon become drowsy and lie down to sleep.” Emma then turned to John, “When she is deep asleep, bring her to me.”
Turning back to Laureal, Emma reiterated her instructions, “Two drops only! Any more than that might kill her unborn pups.”
“Grandma, would one drop be enough?”
“She would not go into deep sleep. She might wake and bite us.” Emma then turned to John, “She’ll be no small load to carry. Looks to weigh over 14 stone (200lbs).”
“I can handle her.”
“Very well. Be careful. Oh, and Laureal, while John carries her body, you may need to steady her head and neck. If you do, take care not to do more harm than good.”
From the doorway, the Matriarch looked on as the young lovers went to find the wolf. Then, turning around with a smile, “Sophie, we’re going to have some fun this morning.”
Meanwhile, across the room, Jessie turned to her son, “Cody, I want you to take the rifle and take Noah on a squirrel hunt this morning. Show him how to use a bow.”
“He knows how.”
“He knows how to play-hunt in the backyard. I want you to take him into the forest on a real hunt. But don’t go beyond earshot of camp. Keep him near, and let him take all the shots.”
“I doubt we’ll get anything.”
“That’s fine. We don’t need anything. Just show him how. Have fun. And if he happens to get a squirrel or grouse, we’ll have him skin and butcher it. Take your time out there, make a morning out of it. His mom is going to Anders’s camp to sew up some damaged gear.”
Concluding her speech, Jessie shot a smile at Mia.
“Okay,” said Cody, looking back and forth between them, “Now I get it.”
Laureal, down on her elbows and knees, steadied her hand on a rock as she gradually tipped the vial, “Just one more drop,” watching intently as a drop of potion appeared on the lip of the flask where it dangled momentarily before falling to a strip of bacon just an inch below. Then, putting the cork back in the flask, she picked up the bacon by its opposite end.
“Watch where you’re going with that,” John cautioned, stepping back as Laureal turned in his direction.
“Time for your nap, darling,” extending the bacon with an impish grin.
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m only kidding,” and offering him the vial, “Here, take this back to Emma before one of us drops and breaks it.”
John glanced at the wolf, licking its chops just a stone’s toss away, “Go ahead and feed her first.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Just feed her first,” taking the vile.
“I can’t,” mildly exasperated, “I have to stay and watch her. Remember?”
“Alright,” acquiescing, “but be careful.” And turning away, he looked over his shoulder, “I’ll be right back!”
Having put the vial back in its place, Emma returned to Jessie and Sophie, presently down on the floor where they had cleared off a work area. Jessie, having stripped bark from little sticks to make handles for paint brushes, cut hair from the pelt of the boar that John had shot. Using the semi-stiff boar hair, she made tiny bundles and, carefully, as if she’d done it a thousand times before, secured the bundles of hair to the little sticks with sinew thread and a dab of pine glue. Lastly, she laid the freshly made paintbrushes on a piece of wood and used a razor-sharp piece of obsidian to trim and shape their bristles.
While Jessie made a variety of brushes, Emma and Sophie laid out an array of materials. A pint and a half of pine oil in a pot, several pints of pine sap in wooden cups, a quart-sized pile of powdered red ocher on a scrap of canvas tarp, a quart-sized pile of powdered charcoal on a second scrap of tarp, and finally, the crushed fish scales in a small leather pouch.
“Are you ready?” asked Emma.
“Ready,” Sophie chirped, clutching a small stick in her hand, having cleaned the bark from it only moments before.
“Okay, put it in there and stir slowly.”
Sophie stirred the pine oil while Emma held the tarp containing ocher folded to form a spout that allowed the clay dust to slowly sift into the pot. The oil served as the base or foundation of what they were making. The ochre was the pigment. And both oil and ochre were naturally red.
Sophie turned her eyes to Emma in excitement, “Look Emmy, it’s turning so red!”
“Red as red can be,” chuckled the Matriarch. “Okay, now lift the stick, Sophie, so I can see how it drains (to gauge its viscosity).”
Lifting the stick, Sophie watched the paint run and drip from stick to pot.
“That’s good,” said Emma. She then picked up a cup of pine sap, which was not turpentine but the raw material of such, a type of oil-compatible hydrate that served as a thinner. Emma added the thinner, instructing Sophie to stir and lift the stick periodically as they proceeded.
“Okay…that’s just perfect!”
“This is fun, Emmy!”
“Yes, it is!” smiling and looking on, “You can stop stirring now, dear.”
Jessie set the brushes next to the paint. “Are we ready for Mia, Mom?”
“Yes, dear, we are.”
While Jessie went to get Mia, Emma and Sophie made a smaller batch of black paint using the same process, except with charcoal powder as pigment. John and Laureal arrived with Weya. The Seeker’s muscular arms bulged under the 200-pound weight of the wolf.
Emma cleared off a space in the center of the floor for John and Laureal to lay the beast down. Then, kneeling and examining the sleeping canine, the Matriarch turned her eyes up as Mia and Anders came through the door. “We have everything ready for you, dear.”
More than anyone in the family, Mia excelled in all things requiring an artist’s touch. Presently kneeling beside Emma, she looked through the newly made paintbrushes from which she selected several. Next, she began the process of mixing the black and red paints in a separate cup to create a shade that was both dark and warm.
With the pouch of crushed fish scales in hand, Jessie knelt alongside Emma and Mia. The three women, their tools and supplies at the ready, went to work on the wolf, with only the child allowed to sit on the floor among them. Everyone else, including Anders and Julien, gathered around, curious to see what the trio had thus far kept between themselves.
With brush in hand, Mia worked the paint into Weya’s fur almost but not all the way down to the skin. Always careful to follow the natural flow of the canine’s hair, she used Weya’s natural cream color for her background. Jessie followed along behind, carefully combing the hair to keep it from clumping as it dried, and sprinkling the crushed fish scales into the paint while it was still wet.
Out in the forest, Cody and Noah had spotted a red squirrel gorging on birch buds—
“He ran round the other side of the tree trunk,” Cody whispered.
“He’s hiding from us.”
“Yep, just like we’re hiding from him,” peering out from the low-hanging limbs of a black spruce. “He’s smart. He’s waiting for us to make our next move.”
Silently, Cody picked up several sticks before turning to Noah, “String your arrow. Okay, now stand right here. That’s it, now draw and point at the trunk right there,” he said, pointing. “Okay, now stay perfectly still. If you move, he’ll see you when he comes around the trunk. When he comes around, don’t move any part of your body. Instead, move the tip of your arrow to sight in on him. Don’t try to shoot him on the run, you’re not ready for that yet. He’ll probably only go around the trunk and stop, but whatever he does, wait until he stops. When he does, draw a deep breath and hold it while sighting in on him, just like you do when playing in the yard. Then release your arrow.”
Moving without sound on moss and pine needles, Cody carefully stepped to the opposite side of the spruce. From his new position, he tossed two sticks, one immediately after another, into a patch of ferns below the side of the tree in which their quarry hid.
The squirrel scrambled around the trunk and hunkered down, unaware that it had exposed itself to Noah’s position.
Back in the longhut, Mia completed the last stroke of paint, and Jessie combed and sprinkled it with the bio-glitter.
“We’ll let her lie here for a few hours,” said Emma. “When the paint has dried, we’ll roll her over and do her other side.”
The women rose from the floor and, along with the others, stood in a loose circle gazing down at the wolf. Weya lay in a deep sleep, covered with dark spots of varying sizes. She no longer appeared to be a wolf but rather an enormous dog.
Emma turned to Laureal, “I cannot guarantee that this will protect her from idiots, but hopefully, this will buy you the time you need. And remember, she is still a wolf and must go on a leash or into a pen.”
“How long will this last?”
“It’s oil-based,” her mother replied. “She could swim a river and roll in the dirt, and it would not come off. Of course, it will fade with time, and, disappear completely when she grows her winter coat.”
“It’s very bright,” Julien remarked.
“That’s due to the crushed scales,” Mia replied. “They mix the daylight with the color and reflect it back out. Wait until you see her in sunlight…or moonlight. Her spots will jump out at you!”
Laureal could not have been more pleased, “Grandma, Jessie, Mia, and you too, Sophie…thank you! Thank you so much!”
“You’re welcome, dear.”
“Yes, dear, you’re very welcome.”
Just then came a commotion from the backyard—the sound of running feet and boyish voices. No more had Cody appeared at the back door than Noah burst in beside him, breathing hard, his eyes filled with pride, his arm outstretched, a dead squirrel dangling by its tail.
“Noah got his first kill!” Cody exclaimed.
“Look, Mom! I shot it!”
That afternoon, after all the paint had dried, John and Laureal carried Weya a few paces into the wood and gently laid her down on a bed of pine needles. They did so based on Emma’s concern, being that the wolf might be confused when it woke, and because such confusion could make for a negative experience, it should not have any connection to the family’s dwelling.
Later, as evening approached, the family and their guest once again gathered for supper around the fire pit where, among other foods, everyone got to sample a bit of squirrel meat in celebration of Noah’s first step to becoming a huntsman. All were in high spirits—
“I know,” nodding and laughing, “and here it’s been blue skies and starry nights for three days.”
“Don’t say that!”
“Why not?”
“Because we’ll be jinxed. And tomorrow, it will rain.”
“And when the rain has warmed the lake,” Anders dryly commented, “we’ll go swimming.”
Laughter went round the fire.
Hovering over the lake, the sun reached out across the water and filled the empty campgrounds with that soft beauty that comes on the cusp of twilight.
“Ms. Molay,” Anders began, his eyes to Mia’s, herself sitting just there beside him, “while this wonderful light yet holds, might I have the honor of your company to walk these grassy grounds?”
“Mr. Kristiansen,” with subtle radiance, “I can think of nothing I would rather do more.”
No more had Anders begun from his seat when he paused, his eyes to the Matriarch, “With your permission, Ms. Emerson.”
The approval in Emma’s eyes required no words. She turned to John and Laureal, “Mr. and Mrs. Summerfield, would you be so kind as to chaperone Mr. Kristiansen and Ms. Molay?”
“We would be honored,” taking John’s hand, pulling him up as she rose.
Noah and Sophie also rose, but Emma quietly ordered them to sit back down. Then, just as Anders and Mia were stepping away, the Matriarch made a clandestine gesture to her granddaughter—
“What is it, Grandma?” speaking lowly.
“Stay well back.”
“Yes, of course,” with a knowing smile.
So it was that, as they strolled along the lakeshore, Laureal found it all too funny, “Here we are chaperoning like an old couple.” And going a few steps further, “Darling, what do you think of Anders?”
“He has the right stuff, from what I can tell anyway.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that because I like him. Mom and Grandma like him. Cody likes him. Noah and Sophie like him. And Mia, she most definitely likes him.”
“Well then, he’s got his foot in the door…providing he wants in.”
“Oh, he wants in!”
Up ahead, Anders and Mia turned to gaze over the glimmering lake—
“I do not believe I’ve ever known such an evening,” turning his eyes to hers.
“Nor have I,” gazing up at him, her dark eyes, filled with the promise of youth, shone like pools in moonlight.
In the quiet that followed, the call of a swan came across the water to draw their attention. Scarcely a stone’s throw from shore, the local swan family came swimming around their tiny island sanctuary. The mother swan had given the bedtime call. She led the way towards the nest while the father swan brought up the rear with their chicks in between.
The young widow and ex-mercenary looked on fondly as the cygnets dawdled in a tight-knit group, chirping among themselves, their fuzzy little heads bobbing with the excitement of new life. The pen led her brood up the island’s gentle shore while the cob encouraged the chicks from behind. The tiny parade ended with the little ones back in their nest, tucked in under momma’s wings for the evening.
Anders and Mia exchanged looks. The moment required no spoken words. Together, they turned to continue strolling the shoreline.
The first firefly of the evening showed itself even as the sun had not quite set. Birds still sang even as the frogs were tuning their voices for their nightly concert. Fish jumped from the water, splashing here, then over there. The magic of spring was in the air.
Stealing looks at one another, the pair hadn’t strolled but a short distance more when Anders paused and turned to Mia, “Ms. Moley, I was just wondering, could it be by chance that your inspiration for making such a wonderful dress, well, could it have come from a certain Roderick legend?”
“And what legend would that be?” subtly surprised.
“The Legend of the Bear King.”
Smiling, Mia shook her head in disbelief, “How did you make the connection?”
“I couldn’t have made it if not for those swans,” returning her smile in kind, “and your dress, and your love of the legend stories, and the island. It all just fit together.”
“It’s not a well-known story.”
“And it isn’t really about the Bear King…if I remember correctly.”
“That may be why it’s little-known, but it’s a beautiful story.”
“I would like nothing more than to hear you tell it, on a later date, of course, if I might be so fortunate.”
“I hope to do exactly that,” smiling.
They set to strolling once again, closer than before. “If I remember correctly,” Anders began, “Roderick planned to kill the Bear King, but…things didn’t go his way.”
“He meant to take the king’s pelt and slip away before the guards could be alerted. And you are right. Things did not go his way. The Sea Eagle spotted him and alerted the Storm King, with whom the Bear King had an alliance.”
“It’s been a great many years since I heard it,” strolling along, now shoulder to shoulder.
“Do you remember what happened to him?” asked Mia.
“He was shipwrecked, and when he woke up on the beach of an uncharted island, there was a tribe of women, all clothed in white feathers.”
“They called themselves the Ungava,” Mia added. “And Roderick, in his semi-conscious state, thought them to be sirens, half-bird and half-woman. But they were not sirens. They nursed him back to health and repaired his storm-torn craft, that he may find his way home.”
Anders stopped and turned to Mia, “It’s been a long time but, as I recall, there was a young woman in the story.”
“Her name was Anji,” pursing a knowing smile.
“They fell in love.”
“Yes.”
“And this was your inspiration.”
“Yes, although I still can’t believe you figured it out,” gazing into his handsome eyes and thinking all the better of him.
The moments passed, both holding the other’s gaze until, like the setting of the sun, a sadness slowly came over her, “Anji begged Roderick not to leave,” said Mia, “but of course, he was Roderick…he had to go.”
“I am not Roderick,” Anders uttered softly.
Out on the lake, the sun had gone down, leaving the campground to linger in that brief window between day and night. A window between seasons where, if only for a handful of days, the butterflies flew with the lightning bugs, and the birds sang with the frogs.
A stone’s throw down the shoreline, a pair of shadows lingered side by side. “Why do they keep pausing?” John whispered.
“They're falling in love,” Laureal whispered back. “Oh, oh, John look. He’s taken her hand in his.”
“Ms. Molay,” Anders began, “I will be leaving here tomorrow. And, it is my great hope that, upon my return, I will find you here.” And drawing a deep breath, “Mia, meeting you has been…well, before I set out on this endeavor, I cast about for more years than I care to admit. I didn’t know my place in this world. I finally came around and put my trust in the One who made all of this. I did not know where he would lead me, but I believed that, well…I believed that all I needed to do was put one foot before the other with faith, and he would bring good from it. And now I see, or at least I have great hope that he has brought more good from it than I could ever have hoped for.”
“Anders,” beaming up into his eyes.
“Yes, Mia.”
“I will be here…waiting and praying for your safe return.”
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