Chapter Twelve

I awoke the next morning to something nibbling at my ear. My arm moved, trying to bat it away from me, before I heard a loud squeak.

My eyes flew open, and I turned my head, to see a tiny field mouse, staring at me with large black eyes.

Gwen.

Her paws were held in front of her, trembling slightly. Her head inclined a little, as if she was trying to ask a question, one I did not know.

I let her scurry into my hand, and placed her gently on the windowsill while I rolled out of bed, into the cold morning air of the room. I shivered, and wrapped the sheet around me, trying to retain the warmth.

Clara was still asleep. Or at least, her animal form slept. A very un-elegant swan was wrapped up in the sheets of the bed, long neck bent like an s, her beak was open, just a little. Her wings were flung open, she looked very un-composed.

I picked up Gwen again, and we made our way down stairs.

Some of the boys were awake, but now in their animal forms too. Tom remained asleep, a small fox curled up in a hammock. Richard hadn't yet made it downstairs, so I guessed he was still asleep. Alexander the squirrel was already practicing his balance, trying to get used to moving with a rather large furry tail behind him. Daniel was attempting to fly. His wings just never seemed to move fast enough to make him leave the ground. And Robbie was having a hard time trying to simply get out of the hammock. His thin legs trembled and shook as he tried to stand with his four legs, and jump out of the hammock, but to no avail. I placed Gwen down carefully on the table, and lifted Robbie out of the sheets. When he was firmly on the floor, he took a few tentative steps around, still trying to work out exactly how to use his extra legs.

I busied myself with trying to find something to make for breakfast. The boys had found a rather large bag of oats hidden away in a cupboard somewhere, enough to make some porridge for everyone for a little while, at least. I used the last of the water we had left in a jug and found an old pot in the basement. I started to pour enough oats to feed all eight of us, as I was used to, until I felt something nudging against my leg. I turned to find Alexander pulling on my nightgown skirt, as if he was trying to tell me something.

I put the oats down on the table, and turned to face him. He squeaked at me, moving his arms as he did. He was trying to tell me something, something I could not understand.

After about two minutes of this charade, he gave up and clambered onto the table, and found an untouched dusty space.

Then, carefully, he lowered his paws and started to write something, tiny and small, in the dust.

Porridge. He wrote, and then crossed it out with a dramatic swing of his tail.

I was very confused. I shrugged at him, trying to convey my confusion.

He shook his head, and went back to writing.

Acorns.

And then it hit me. He didn't want porridge. He didn't want human food. Of course he didn't, he was now an animal, they couldn't eat normal human food. He should be eating nuts and berries, like squirrels were supposed to.

With a sigh, I poured most of the oats back into the bag, and left only a little out for me. Well, a little in regards to how much I put back. I actually had left myself a rather large portion for only one person. After the day I'd had yesterday, I thought I deserved a little more food than I was used to. Also, if there was only me to feed, then this bag of oats would go an awful lot further than I was expecting it to go. So, I saw no harm in me eating a little extra.

I found an old pot and began to heat up some water over the small fire that had nearly burned out. I threw an extra couple of twigs and sticks to give it a little more life, and waited for the fire to catch, and hooked a pot over the metal rod above the fire. The water boiled slowly, and I sat and watched as my brothers and Gwen began to try and get used to their animal forms again.

Alexander still struggled a little with keeping his rather large bushy tail off the ground, and had a rather annoying habit of stepping on it from time to time. Daniel still hadn't quite got the idea with his wings just yet, but made a commendable effort in trying to learn how to fly. He could get up off the ground for a few seconds at a time, but not really get any height or distance before falling back to the ground.

Robbie and Tom were very quickly getting the hang of walking on four legs, or at least much faster than Daniel was taking to flight. Tom in particular had worked out how to run, jump and climb on his four legs. He ran around the room, his burnt orange fur standing out against the dark browns of the wood and stone.

It still took me by surprise a little. I knew my brothers and sisters were now animals, but I couldn't help but not recognise them for a fraction of a second. Sometimes I still jumped when I saw the tiny field mouse scurry towards me. It took me a few moments to work out it was Gwen, and not just some wild animal. This curse would certainly take some getting used to.

The water boiled through, and I added the oats, made the porridge and ate it quickly. Richard emerged from his room, and squeaked at the rest of them to help him down, or at least I think that is what he said, I couldn't understand him. Alexander pointed to him, and then to me, and I went and retrieved him from the top of the stairs, and carried him down to the main room.

Only Clara was left still asleep, and the rest of them began to get restless and bored. Robbie and Tom started to scratch at the door. I guessed they were trying to get outside, and I wasn't sure if I should let them. Last time I had let them wander outside by themselves, they had all been dragged back bound up and then they were cursed. I wasn't ready to let them go. Not if there was the slightest chance of something else happening to them.

I shook my head at them, and they had the nerve to look disappointed. They tried scratching more and more, and in the end, I lifted them up and moved them away from the door, hoping they would get the message. Tom only scrambled back to the door as fast as he could, and began trying to open the door.

I bit my lip, and went to move Tom away from the door again. He struggled when I picked him up, writhing and shaking in my arms. I placed him firmly down on the ground, stared him in the eye and shook my head. He stared back at me, pleading with his eyes to let him go outside. But I wasn't backing down. He whined a little and hung his head.

I turned around for all of three seconds to clear up the cooking pot, and Tom and Robbie were back at the door, trying to get out. I was about to groan at them, but remembered my frustrating, irritating, damned silence. Biting the inside of my cheek and rolling my eyes in frustration, I stomped over to the door and stood in front of it. Both of them looked up slowly to me, and I refused to break their stare. I was not letting them go outside, I couldn't. Not after what happened yesterday. I just couldn't.

There was a small tug on the bottom of my nightgown. I glanced down to see Alexander pulling on my hem, trying to get my attention. He gestured to the door and then placed his tiny paw on his stomach, rubbing it gently.

He was hungry.

So was everyone else.

Even though I knew they couldn't eat human food, and that they wanted grass and nuts and whatever else they were supposed to eat; I hadn't given them any, and locked them inside.

A stab of remorse went through me. How could I have been so blind? I still didn't want them to go outside, not unless I was watching them like a hawk. But I knew my family, and they would be running off everywhere within a matter of seconds. The little ones in particular loved to play. I couldn't trust them not to run off, especially since I couldn't communicate with them.

But Alexander continued to stare at me, hand on stomach. Tom and Robbie also had pleading in their eyes. I sighed.

Maybe if I went outside to look for food for them and left them inside. But I knew nothing about what they would like to eat now. Squirrels eat nuts and acorns, and I thought birds tended to eat berries and things like that. But as for the rest of them…

I had no clue how to look after any of them. I was completely unprepared for this. I couldn't let them starve, not after I promised my father.

I was torn. On one hand, I didn't want to ever let them out of my sight again. I needed to know exactly where they all were, and make sure they didn't get taken. But, they needed to eat, and I couldn't keep them under house arrest forever. They would all hate me, and go all day without any food.

They continued to plead at me with their eyes, and I eventually had to break their stare to think.

They needed food, and I didn't know what to get them. They also couldn't stay cooped up inside all the time, it would drive both me and all of them insane.

I sighed. I knew what I had to do, even though I didn't like it one tiny bit.

Begrudgingly, I walked to the door, lifted the latch slowly, and pushed it open.

All of the boys were out of the door like lightning. Gwen tried to scurry down off the table, but struggled a little with the height of it. Before I helped her down, I gestured to her to see what I was writing in the dust in the corner of the table.

Tell them to be back at sundown. No excuses.

She nodded, and I let her run into my hand, and placed her carefully on the floor, and then she too was gone.

I looked back to what I had written. I had nearly covered the table in writing, and I was fast running out of space in the dust to communicate with. I needed some paper and a pencil if I was going to get through the entire year without being able to speak. Or at least I needed another alternative. I didn't seem to be getting anywhere with hand gestures either.

But, that was not the priority right then. I had a year to figure it out. At that moment, I needed to worry about finding water and food, and working out how we were going to live now that we had fled the village.

The cottage had actually been fairly convenient for our use. I just wished I knew what had happened to Rose. Why was she not here?

Another question for another time. Water and food.

I followed my siblings out of the door, and had a look around outside the cottage. The sun had just begun to warm up the air, but it was still a little crisp. Around the cottage, was worn down grass, covered in fallen leaves and twigs from the trees above. Rose and her aunts had clearly worn down the path that went all around the cottage, and so I followed it. Mercifully, at the end, there was a water pump attached to the back of the house. I almost jumped for joy. We had a supply of water, I didn't need to go in search of it every morning. I ran back inside and found a jug that I could fill.

By the time I was about to go out the door again, a rather large White Swan appeared at the top of the stairs, hissing and emitting a sound that reminded me of a sort of honk, like a sort of muffled bugle. I had never really listened to the sound of swans, but apparently that was how they sounded.

She but a tentative webbed foot on the stair, before lowering her weight carefully onto it. Her wings were splayed out, as if she was trying to use them to balance. Her neck also seemed to be swaying a little, her neck muscles not quite stable enough yet to support such a suddenly long neck.

I placed the jug down on the table, and walked up the stairs. She stopped moving and I raised my eyebrow at her in question.

Clara's head moved in what I think was a nod, and so I lifted her up in my arms; with a great amount of difficulty.

I thought lifting a sixteen-year old girl would be harder than lifting a swan, but I was sorely mistaken.

She wriggled and squirmed in my arms, and her wings had a rather annoying habit of hitting me in the back of my head.

However, we eventually made it downstairs in one piece, and I set her down, before pointing to the writing I had placed on the table, about being back for sundown. Her long neck extended as she glanced at it, then nodded and took off into the forest.

I decided in that moment, if we were going to stay there, Richard, Clara and Gwen needed to work out how to get up and down those stairs in animal form. I was not going to be carrying them up and down every day. If only I was Isabelle, she would have already invented something to lift them to the first floor. Even with my mechanics' lessons from her, I didn't have the knack for inventing like she did.

I hadn't seen her in a month. I wondered how she was doing now, undoubtedly still with her head in a book. I hoped she had found someone else she could talk to. It was nearly always me and her, and on occasion; Amelia. But the two of them never seemed as close with each other.

She would be fine, she was Isabelle. She wouldn't let anything stop her from doing what she wanted to do.

I took the jug from the table, and walked to the water pump quickly. I had a lot of sorting out to do that day if we were going to be staying in that cottage for the foreseeable future. There was a lot to do.


The day passed in a bit of a blur. Once I had found water, I looked around for food, and found that just a little way into the forest, there was a small vegetable patch, undoubtedly Rose's, which still had carrots and turnips and parsnips growing under the soil. Paired with the oats we had found; we were going to be alright for food for a considerable time.

I cleaned up the cottage as much as I was able. Every instinct I had been taught as a housemaid screamed at me to dust down the surfaces, but I didn't. Writing in the dust had been my main form of communication with my brothers and sisters, and I couldn't afford to lose it.

Instead, I distracted myself with finding as much fire wood as I was able. Twigs, sticks logs and dried grass were all put on the pile I made just inside the door of the cottage. I had no idea how long we'd be staying here, or what we were going to do, so I thought it best to be prepared.

Eventually the sun began to set in the distance, spilling golden light onto the tops of the trees surrounding the clearing.

And, just like I'd asked them too, one by one, my siblings returned.

A squirrel, a raven, a swan, a hedgehog, a fox, a fawn and a tiny field mouse; all made their way through the door into the room.

I had lit the fire, knowing that we would be awake past sunset. I needed to talk to them. Well, not talk, but communicate with them.

I was rather impressed when Daniel and Clara managed to fly up to the door. Both of them had clearly spent the day learning how to use their new wings. Daniel in particular held his feathered head very high as he paraded around the room. I only rolled my eyes at him, before patting him gently on the head in congratulations.

Once again, just like the night before, the sun disappeared behind the horizon, and the animals before me began to glow in golden light.

In a matter of seconds, they had all returned to normal, still wearing their nightclothes from the previous night.

Most of them were smiling this time, not one tear among them. Alexander was the only one who still didn't look completely happy.

'Arry, did you see! Daniel can fly!' Robbie shouted at me.

I nodded, smiling at him.

'I can too, you know!' Clara told him, looking mockingly put out.

'Yes, but you're a swan. You're too big to fly through the trees like Daniel can!' He replied.

Clara looked at him in fake shock.

'Are you, Robert Brown, saying that I am fat?' She said, in the most over the top voice I had ever heard her imitate.

'Maybe a little bit.' He said quietly, before squealing a little, and running behind Alexander, as Clara chased him around the house, telling him to take it back.

Gwen of course didn't like being left out, and began taunting Clara too, leading to her also squealing and running.

Daniel looked to me, then to the pot of oats I had prepared.

'I'll make the dinner; you look like you could use a rest.' He told me, with a small smile.

I tried to convey my thanks by placing my hand on my chest and tilting my head slightly. He chuckled a bit, which I guessed meant he got the message.

Tom and Richard were talking quietly in the corner of the room amongst themselves, mainly about what they had done that day. I took a deep breath and walked up to Alexander, who had taken a seat by fire, and was now staring at the flames. He didn't react when I placed my hand gently on his shoulder. He slowly looked up to me, and I could tell something was troubling him. Inclining my head, I invited him to come outside with me. He slowly rose from the chair and followed me outside. I took a small candle in a lantern I had found in one of the trunks in the basement.

Outside was dark, but I led him to the vegetable patch.

I had my reasons. Earlier that day, I found a rather sturdy pointy stick which I found I could write words with in soft earth. And out there, there was soft earth, and minimal chance that one of our siblings would interrupt us.

We arrived, and I set the lantern down on the ground and turned to face Alexander. His head was hung low, forcing his curls to fall over his eyes.

I raised my eyebrow in question of what was wrong. He took a few moments to look up at me, but when he did; the emotion in them hit me like a blow.

'What have I done Arry?' He said quietly. 'This is my fault.' His voice broke on the last sentence.

I wanted to shake my head and tell him that wasn't true, but something deep down in me wouldn't let me.

He had been left in charge of all of them when they were cursed. It had been him who had failed to protect them. And I knew, of course I knew; that I really shouldn't be blaming him for the faerie's crimes. But some small part of me did.

But he was scared and hurting and still grieving; so I shook my head softly, and gave him a sad smile.

'It is. It's all my fault. If we hadn't gone to that stupid garden!' He cried. I could see the tears collecting in his eyes.

'I'm so sorry, you have no idea how sorry I am about this.' He said, blinking the water away.

I took a step forward and wrapped my arms around him. He was my little brother, and he was hurting. I needed to make sure he was alright. That was my duty as an older sister, to take care of all my siblings; even those who thought they were all grown up and didn't need looking after anymore. But Alexander did. He needed a shoulder to cry on.

And so, holding onto me tightly, he let the tears fall, and the sobs wrack his chest.

I just held on, it was all I could do, just hold on.

He eventually calmed down, and I turned my attention to the reason I wanted to talk to him. I picked up the stick, and began to write; carving the words into the earth.

Can you speak to animals?

Alexander looked at me confused.

'How so?' He asked.

I rolled my eyes at him. I couldn't talk.

'Oh, sorry. We can all talk to each other when we're in that form.' He said.

I had already guessed that much.

Others? I wrote.

'Do you mean other animals or are they,' He said, gesturing to the cottage behind us,' the others?'

I held up one finger to tell him I meant the former.

'No.' He told me, shaking his head slightly. 'It's only us. Or at least I think it is.'

Nodding slightly, I began to write in the earth again.

Shout 'Blanche'.

My brother looked at me with such confusion. I just nodded, hoping he would actually do it.

'Whose Blanche?' He asked. I simply pointed to the word again, and gestured for him to shout.

'If I do, will you tell me why?'

I rolled my eyes at him and nodded.

Shrugging his shoulders, he tilted his head up and shouted

'Blanche! Blanche?'

I was already writing more thing by the time he looked down.

Marion needs your help. Rose's cottage.

Alexander glanced down to the words that were written there, and repeated them aloud.

I sighed in relief. Hopefully the birds would deliver our message to her. She had to come; she had to.

And so, I watched as Alexander shouted into the night, and hoped with all my heart that she heard it.


We eventually settled into a routine of our new lives. Several days passed, and I let my siblings out of the cottage every morning, and they would always return just before sunset. I spent my days tidying up the cottage, and tending to the vegetable patch I had found. I also discovered a little orchard nearby which I frequently picked apples from.

Every night, my siblings would return with stories about their days. How they were mastering flight, or learning how to walk on four legs, or could now climb trees. I sat and listened to them, unable to tell them about my day.

I was getting more and more frustrated with the silence. I hated it, I truly did. I wanted it to be over. I thought it would get easier with time, but it didn't. I wanted to scream and shout about how much it annoyed me not being able to ask for a glass of water, or call to my siblings if I needed help with something.

I hated it.

And I hated that faerie.

I was really going to kill him if I ever saw him again.

At night, my dreams would be filled with his voice, rattling around my head, the moment they all were cursed.

However, there was always something about his voice I couldn't quite place my finger on.

I curse you

I curse you Lord Ad…..

Those words echoed around my head again and again and again. I couldn't figure out if I'd ever heard of a Lord Ad, or anyone who sounded vaguely similar. I would wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, trying to desperately remember why the Faerie's voice had sounded so familiar.

But alas, nothing. It annoyed me to no end.

I had gone through the things I had brought with me. I hadn't realised in the panic of fleeing Rault, what exactly I had put in the bag. Or what I hadn't taken out of it.

In the bottom of my carpet bag, along with the nightgowns and one single day dress each for the girls, I had accidentally left my emerald green ball gown in the bottom of the bag. I had simply never taken it out since Milton. So, there it was, staring up at me from the bottom of the bag.

But what was on top of it…

On top was that mysterious ring I had found on my bedroom floor. The bronze one with the small amethyst. It had sat in the bottom of my bag all this time. I still hadn't figured out why it was on my bedroom floor in the first place, or why it had fit my finger.

There were just too many things that had happened in my life recently that didn't add up. And I was at a complete loss as to why they were happening.

I tried, I truly tried to remember something, but I kept getting little dizzying spell which put a stop to my thoughts.

And so, after several days, almost a week, I just gave up. I learned to accept I was never going to get the answers. I learned to accept that this was my new life; silent and steadfast for the rest of the year, until the curse was broken.

But that all came crashing down one day.

I was sat in the main room of the cottage, about a week after we had fled, enjoying a well-deserved cup of water; when I heard it.

A loud hissing noise followed by a sort of muffled bugle sound. I knew that sound. It filled the air, echoing around the forest.

I jumped to my feet. That was the exact noise Clara made while she was a swan.

She was crying out for help.

She was screaming.

My heart stopped.

I dropped the cup of water, not caring as it splattered all around me. I took off as fast as my legs would take me. Pushing open the door, I scrambled outside and ran towards the sound.

My breath came in short pants, and my mind went wild with worry. I wanted with all my heart to shout up to her, to tell her I was coming, but I couldn't.

And so, I ran.

I sprinted as fast as I could, dodging trees and fallen branches, determined to get to her.

Eventually I round the corner to the small lake we had discovered lay a little down the track. I knew Clara like to swim there, it was something she could actually do in her new form.

But to my horror, I didn't see Clara first.

A group of men stood on the bank of the lake, a crossbow in hand.

Aiming at the sky.

To where a beautiful white swan was weaving in and out of the trees as best she could.

Hunters.

They were going to kill her.

I didn't waste a second.

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me; straight at the hunting party.

None of them turned around, all to focused on the kill.

Flinging my arms out, I barrelled into the side of the one nearest to me, knocking him off his balance. He swore at the sudden impact and fell into the next one, who teetered a little before correcting himself.

But my that point, I was already standing in front of all of them, my arms out as wide as I could get them.

That's when my gaze fell on the third man, stood at the end of the line.

His long black hair was combed immaculately, not a hair out of place. His handsome features contorted as they took me in. His forest green eyes betrayed shock and surprise. His clothes were clean and pristine, a brown coat, black tunic and a billowing white shirt. Rich and Highborn.

I knew that face.

Knew those eyes.

Knew who was stood right in front of me, pointing a crossbow at me sister.

'Marion?' Sir James Thorne asked.