The Wealding Word Read Online Free

clattering off them from above.
    Just before the skies truly opened, they came to an enormous, golden-leaved oak, standing atop a hill like a fountain of sunshine. Its trunk was as wide as an oxcart, and corded like a rope. Red holly sprouted from several wide cracks in the bole, crowning the tree with patches of deepest green. When Nell pushed through its low hanging branches she found a dry, comfortable place among its roots. Sitting there under the tree was like being in a secret chamber, but the place felt sad somehow.
    Rawley slumped down in the dirt. “I dropped my bone,” he lamented. If cats could smile, Nell thought she saw Sola grin at the news.
    The golden canopy provided excellent cover from the rain and hail. Only the occasional drip ever reached the friends below. A rectangular pond covered in water roses sat under the boughs nearby. It was more a pool than a pond really, and the sides closest to the oak were oddly straight, ending in two perfect corners. What’s more, the little pool centered directly in front of the tree, as though intentionally placed to reflect its splendor.
    Nell’s father once told her that, long ago, a mermaid lived in a hidden forest spring. At night, her beautiful voice could be heard near the water, singing about a lost love. Nell decided the pool beneath the golden oak was a very likely place for a water spirit to dwell. Thunder rumbled a few sad strains as she sat thinking about mermaids, watching the rain splatter off the flowers. Soon the worst of the storm blew over, and was replaced by a gentler pitter-patter.
    Rawley dozed in a tangle of roots, his paws already twitching. Sola curled up next to him, cleaning her striped coat. Since her pets were determined to rest, Nell thought she would get a better look at the water. She reasoned that if mermaids were still about, it would be easier to spot them from higher up. Besides, the holly-covered oak was perfect for climbing: its gnarled, twisting trunk had lots of folds and handholds.
    As Nell hoisted herself from the ground, she thought she felt the slightest shiver run through the tree. Just as she was about to pull herself into one of the lower boughs, a groggy whisper rustled the air, “That’s my nose!”
    Nell was holding onto a stubby branch. Above it peered three gnarls running with sap. Several more knots spaced haphazardly around the trunk blinked open, shutting almost immediately. It was as though the tree could gaze in all directions at once if it wanted, butits lids were too heavy for the effort. Below the largest of the eyes frowned a crack where Nell’s foot was solidly wedged.
    She jumped down in surprise. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt your nose.”
    “You can hear me,” said the oak, sounding like he had just woken up. He had a voice like crystallized syrup: sweet and thick and crackly.
    Nell bobbed her head in shock, “Yes.”
    “My words don’t reach many ears anymore. Who taught you to listen so quietly?” Only the rustle of leaves in the breeze sounded outwardly, but somehow, Nell heard the tree.
    “No one taught me,” she said. “I found a magic bracelet that belongs to the Witch of the Weald. Now I can speak to cats, and cows, and dogs… and even to you!”
    “A bracelet gave you this power? Are you sure?” No less than fifteen more gnarls around the trunk creaked open to inspect her. “Well, if it isn’t yours, I hope you will give it back,” he said in a slow measure.
    Nell’s heart sank. She slumped down amid the knobby roots and was suddenly pouring out everything about the sorceress, the bracelet, and the boy in the tower. The sleepy tree made for an easy confidant. “I want to give it back, but I gave it away already. Will the witch be mad at me?”
    “Who can say?” the tree replied. “The witch once held someone like you prisoner in a tower, but the girl escaped and came to me. How long has it been? I wonder,” he mused, struggling to keep two or three eyes focused on Nell.