Chapter 1
William held two shrunken turnips. Turnips and apples—that was all the food they had. He chewed his lip.
“When’s Da coming home?” Pinch asked once more.
And again William answered, “Soon.” Their father made the trek down the mountain to the village regularly and was usually home in a couple of days. Never had he been gone this long.
They could wait another day. But if Da did not come, they would have to leave. They’d be completely out of food. William had been down Crag Angorm before—as far as the high pastures to help with the goats—but not without his father, not in winter, and not with his little brother, Pinch.
Pinch put his thumb in his mouth.
“Don’t suck your thumb! You’ve got almost five summers.”
“I’m hungry.” Pinch stuck his lip out.
“Tonight you can have an extra-big helping. I’m not . . . not that hungry.”
“You’re not?” Pinch looked up. “Can you tell me a story about Mama tonight?”
Stories about their ma were Pinch’s favorites. But they reminded William of how alone they were. Their mother had gone down the mountain last spring and never returned. Since then, Da often went in search of her. And now, at the tail end of winter, he had not come home. William said, “I’ll tell you one if you don’t pester me.”
Pinch ran in circles yelling, “Pesk! Pesk! Pesker!”
William laughed. “It’s pest,” he corrected his brother.
They were both feeling restless. Snow had pummeled their little house, tucked up at the peak of the crag, for days. Still, if Da did not return tomorrow . . . they would have to leave their snug home and go down the mountain to find him.
William dreamed of his mother. In his dream her laughter was quick and light like the tinkling of goat bells. He tried to hold her there. But she always faded—down the path to the valley.
William moaned. He woke with his heart clacking against his rib cage. It was colder than it should be. One of the shutters had blown open.
He wrapped a coverlet around himself and went to close it. He peeked out. Against the white of snow-covered boulders, something was moving. Da? Then a cloud passed, and in the moonlight he saw that the figure didn’t move the way Da did.
But who would be up here in the middle of the night? And in winter? Only twice, in the summertime, had they ever had visitors. Should he call out? Theirs was the only house on the peak.
He shivered. There was something odd about the figure as it stepped through the snow. William blinked. Then he threw his hand over his mouth and let the cover-let drop to the floor. “Wha-a-t?”
It was a woman, but her arms were unnaturally long. William rubbed his eyes. Maybe she was using walking sticks? No. Her arms kinked in all directions as she used them to balance herself in the snow. William’s ankles went weak.
He latched the shutter and ran to the door to be sure the bar was thrown, locking them in. He added another log to the fire. He pushed his hand through his hair. If his eyes had not tricked him, she was . . . she was like something from a bad dream. Perhaps he’d only imagined it? After all, he’d waked suddenly.
He rummaged on the worktable and found Da’s small carving knife. Holding it close, he whispered to himself, “Please, let it just be my imagination.”
There was a knock at the door.
Chapter 2
William clutched Da’s knife. They’d never worried about danger coming to them. But this—this thing he’d spied felt all wrong. It hadn’t looked natural.
Thump! Thump!
Pinch mumbled in his sleep.
“Please, open the door!” said a voice. “I’ve journeyed a long way.”
William leaned his head against the wood on his side of the door. “Who—who are you?”
“I’m a friend of your mother’s, of Lirian’s.” The voice was pleasant.
A friend of Ma’s? It would be difficult for anyone to find their home without directions from Ma or Da. Did she know where Ma was? Or, perhaps, she’d spoken with Da?
“Lirian is worried about you, William. And about your brother, Pinch. Also, I’ve something of hers to give you. Please let me in.”
Something from Ma? This visitor did know where Ma was! And she knew their names. How silly he was acting. William put the knife down. He must have imagined the strange look of her. He unbarred the door. “Please, come in.”
Frenzied wisps of snow whirled across the floor as she swept her gown over the threshold. She wore a gray cloak, and her hood framed a small triangle of a face. About her head tumbled pinpricks of light. She looked perfectly normal—more than normal. Certainly, she was the most beautiful person William had ever seen.
He caught his breath. “How? Who . . .” His brain was fuzzy. He was always shy around others, since he very seldom met anyone. Finally, he managed, “Good eve! I—I’m William, Heldor’s son. Do you have a message from my mother?”
“Well, not exactly.”
Uh-oh! Something wasn’t right. She looked friendly enough, but her voice had sharpened and her eyes were cold. William moved closer to Pinch.
She smiled, and William looked up at two perfect rows of sharp little teeth. His breath rushed out. Oh, no! Oh, no! He’d let something dangerous into the cottage. He knew better than to open the door to a stranger, especially when Da wasn’t around. His mouth dropped open. “Wha-a-a-t—”
“Oh, quit your sniveling!” the woman snapped. “I do hate it when your sort does that.”
William placed his hands on his thighs to stop his legs from shaking. He took a couple of deep breaths.
“That’s better,” she said. “Now raise your head and look at me. After all, I dressed for the occasion—pretty lights and all.”
He raised his eyes. He could not stop staring at those teeth! “Are—are you going to eat us?”
“Am I what?” The stranger broke into peals of raspy laughter. Slipping off her hood, she said, “Really! How old are you?”
“Twel—twelve summers.”
“Twelve summers, and you still believe in stories meant to frighten babies? Do I look like a wolf? I am not going to eat you.”
William glanced at Pinch.
“I said, look at me!” the woman commanded. “You don’t need to worry about your brother. My business is with you. Good.”
She took off her gloves and slowly circled the small cottage, touching his mother’s and father’s things. The twinkling lights about her head moved with her. She drew a long bony finger down the blade of his father’s knife.
William gulped. Who, or what, was she?
When she was done examining the knife, she threw back the folds of her cloak. “Now that I have your attention, let us talk. First, this is not how to welcome a guest. However, stuck in this forsaken place, it doesn’t surprise me that you’ve not been taught any manners. You should provide a seat by the fire and something to eat.”
He’d been taught manners! His hands shook as he dragged a bench closer to the hearth. Then he had to swallow a couple of times before saying, “We’ve—we’ve only got an apple, or two, left.”
“Thank you,” she said, sweeping her gown to one side as she sat. “Two apples, please.”
William sidled around the edge of the room to pick up the apples. His stomach rumbled as he looked at them. He scuffled closer to her and held them out.
Daintily, she plucked both apples from his hands with the tips of her fingernails. “Humph! Well, I can’t say I’m surprised at what lack of care you seem to have. Heldor and Lirian have not only neglected to teach you any manners, but now they’re starving you. Really! Some people should never have children.”
William could feel his face getting red. How dare she talk about Da and Ma like that! He clenched his hands.
She bit into one of the apples. “Pah!” She spit the bite into the fire and threw both apples into the ashes. “Nasty-tasting things! Not fresh at all.”
William lurched toward the fire—maybe he could rescue the apples. She put a foot out and tripped him. He sprawled at her feet.
“There. That’s better. That’s where you should be when addressing the great witch of the fae folk. La Grande Morga, at your service. You may call me Morga.”
He scooted around, sat up and put a hand to his head. “Witch? Fae folk?”
“Yesssss.” She leaned over him, and William could smell the stink of sulfur, like rotten eggs. The lights that floated about her head began to hiss.
He squinted. The flashing lights came from flying yellow worms! And each had a tiny mouth full of teeth that snapped as the worms tumbled about her dark hair.
All of William’s joints went watery. “What—what are those?”
“Do you like them? They’re my pets. Grimwyrms.”
William kicked out and slid backward until he was against Pinch’s cot. Grimwyrms were the nightmare stuff of old tales. They weren’t real. They couldn’t be real!
“Don’t worry, if you do exactly as I ask, they’ll not harm you,” Morga said. “Now, the reason I’m here is that your father was doing a small favor for me. Only”—she stopped to pull something out of a pocket—“he’s met with a little accident.” She held up a tuft of red hair with a yellow ribbon around it.
“That’s Ma’s hair. Da always carries it!” William started to thrust his hand out but quickly withdrew it.
“I told you I had a little something to give you.” She dropped the lock of hair and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her hands upon.
William jerked forward and snatched it up, clutching it to his chest. “Why—why do you have it?”
“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it seems Heldor fell from Cliven Rock. The village folk found him at the base of the cliff and buried him in the old burial ground. I would have come sooner to tell you, but it did take a while to find this place. It is rather out of the way—”
“Agggh . . .” William pitched forward. “N-n-n-no! No! No!”
Pinch yawned and sat up in bed. “William?”
“Well, the little one is just in time for the news.” Morga smiled.
“No!” William pointed a shaky finger at her. “G‑g‑g‑-go! Go away!”
“What is it?” Pinch rubbed his eyes.
William leapt from the floor and pulled his brother to his chest. “I don’t believe you!”
Pinch began to cry. He pushed against William. “Let me see!”
Morga rose. “I cannot abide the sound of human blubbering. And I can see you’re in no state to listen to reason, so I’ll take my leave. However, it is important that someone honor your father’s pact and perform a few simple tasks. So we’ll meet again, when you’re a little calmer. I can see myself to the door.” She put on her gloves and slowly stretched each arm out, longer and longer.
“Who’s here?” asked Pinch.
William clapped his hands firmly over Pinch’s eyes. At the door she turned and flicked a small black tongue across her sharp teeth. “Soon,” she said, and stepped into the swirling dark.
Chapter 3
The day dawned cold but calm.
William beckoned for Pinch and they made their way to the old sledge by the shed. Da had taken the good one to bring back supplies, but this one was smaller and easier to handle.
“William, the goats aren’t here to pull us,” Pinch said.
“I know.” The goats were wintering in the lower pastures. Still, William tucked Pinch beneath hides and coverlets they’d dragged out from their beds. “I’m strong. I can pull when we can’t slide.” He handed his brother a metal lantern filled with embers. “Don’t drop that.”
“Are we going because of the bad lady in my dream?” Pinch asked.
“Dreams can’t hurt you,” William said, glad that Pinch had believed him when he’d said that last night had simply been a bad dream. “We’re going because we’re out of food. And we need to find Da. One of his friends in the village will know where he is.”
William had already tucked his mother’s lock of hair and his father’s knife into his coat. He turned to take a last look at his home.
There was sooty writing on the outside of their door. How had he missed that just moments ago?
Pinch looked past William. “What’s that?”
William sounded out the words silently. Whiter than snow is love’s light atremble. Thirteen for Morga—scooped in a thimble. Instantly, his stomach felt queasy. Thirteen for Morga. Thirteen what? And did she know they were leaving?
William yanked the sledge rope.
“Wait!” Pinch called. “What’s it say?”
“Nothing.”
“Does, too,” Pinch grumbled. “It’s writing.”
“It’s just some sort of riddle, I guess. Or—”
“I like riddles!”
“It’s not that kind of riddle. It’s more of a . . .” William couldn’t find the right word. Finally, he said, “It’s a sort of task, I think.”
“A task? Did Da write it?”
“No.” William felt his heart sinking. Not Da. It was that witch. “We have to go.” He pulled the sledge onto the trail.
“But who wrote it?” Pinch shouted.
“I don’t know!”
Pinch stuck his thumb in his mouth.
William had no idea who this Morga was, or what Da might have been doing for her, but he did not want to be here if she showed up again. And he didn’t believe Da was dead. Witches lied.
Whenever they came to an open space, William stood on the runners and they swooshed downward. But the mountain above the tree line was covered with loose shale, so it was difficult to use the sledge for sliding. For great stretches of the way, William had to pull and push it. And many times, Pinch got off and helped. It was taking longer than William expected. By midday they’d only gotten as far as the path that led off to Cliven Rock.
Cliven Rock was a boulder that teetered on the edge of a steep cliff. It was a favorite place where they sometimes went for a picnic. There they could look out upon the whole world spread before them. William had always loved the place. But now? He couldn’t help picturing Da lying broken, far below. He was tempted to have a look at the ledge; maybe there would be some sign that might tell him the truth.
No. It was too dangerous in winter, especially with Pinch. And he was sure the witch had lied.
Chapter 1
William held two shrunken turnips. Turnips and apples—that was all the food they had. He chewed his lip.
“When’s Da coming home?” Pinch asked once more.
And again William answered, “Soon.” Their father made the trek down the mountain to the village regularly and was usually home in a couple of days. Never had he been gone this long.
They could wait another day. But if Da did not come, they would have to leave. They’d be completely out of food. William had been down Crag Angorm before—as far as the high pastures to help with the goats—but not without his father, not in winter, and not with his little brother, Pinch.
Pinch put his thumb in his mouth.
“Don’t suck your thumb! You’ve got almost five summers.”
“I’m hungry.” Pinch stuck his lip out.
“Tonight you can have an extra-big helping. I’m not . . . not that hungry.”
“You’re not?” Pinch looked up. “Can you tell me a story about Mama tonight?”
Stories about their ma were Pinch’s favorites. But they reminded William of how alone they were. Their mother had gone down the mountain last spring and never returned. Since then, Da often went in search of her. And now, at the tail end of winter, he had not come home. William said, “I’ll tell you one if you don’t pester me.”
Pinch ran in circles yelling, “Pesk! Pesk! Pesker!”
William laughed. “It’s pest,” he corrected his brother.
They were both feeling restless. Snow had pummeled their little house, tucked up at the peak of the crag, for days. Still, if Da did not return tomorrow . . . they would have to leave their snug home and go down the mountain to find him.
William dreamed of his mother. In his dream her laughter was quick and light like the tinkling of goat bells. He tried to hold her there. But she always faded—down the path to the valley.
William moaned. He woke with his heart clacking against his rib cage. It was colder than it should be. One of the shutters had blown open.
He wrapped a coverlet around himself and went to close it. He peeked out. Against the white of snow-covered boulders, something was moving. Da? Then a cloud passed, and in the moonlight he saw that the figure didn’t move the way Da did.
But who would be up here in the middle of the night? And in winter? Only twice, in the summertime, had they ever had visitors. Should he call out? Theirs was the only house on the peak.
He shivered. There was something odd about the figure as it stepped through the snow. William blinked. Then he threw his hand over his mouth and let the cover-let drop to the floor. “Wha-a-t?”
It was a woman, but her arms were unnaturally long. William rubbed his eyes. Maybe she was using walking sticks? No. Her arms kinked in all directions as she used them to balance herself in the snow. William’s ankles went weak.
He latched the shutter and ran to the door to be sure the bar was thrown, locking them in. He added another log to the fire. He pushed his hand through his hair. If his eyes had not tricked him, she was . . . she was like something from a bad dream. Perhaps he’d only imagined it? After all, he’d waked suddenly.
He rummaged on the worktable and found Da’s small carving knife. Holding it close, he whispered to himself, “Please, let it just be my imagination.”
There was a knock at the door.
Chapter 2
William clutched Da’s knife. They’d never worried about danger coming to them. But this—this thing he’d spied felt all wrong. It hadn’t looked natural.
Thump! Thump!
Pinch mumbled in his sleep.
“Please, open the door!” said a voice. “I’ve journeyed a long way.”
William leaned his head against the wood on his side of the door. “Who—who are you?”
“I’m a friend of your mother’s, of Lirian’s.” The voice was pleasant.
A friend of Ma’s? It would be difficult for anyone to find their home without directions from Ma or Da. Did she know where Ma was? Or, perhaps, she’d spoken with Da?
“Lirian is worried about you, William. And about your brother, Pinch. Also, I’ve something of hers to give you. Please let me in.”
Something from Ma? This visitor did know where Ma was! And she knew their names. How silly he was acting. William put the knife down. He must have imagined the strange look of her. He unbarred the door. “Please, come in.”
Frenzied wisps of snow whirled across the floor as she swept her gown over the threshold. She wore a gray cloak, and her hood framed a small triangle of a face. About her head tumbled pinpricks of light. She looked perfectly normal—more than normal. Certainly, she was the most beautiful person William had ever seen.
He caught his breath. “How? Who . . .” His brain was fuzzy. He was always shy around others, since he very seldom met anyone. Finally, he managed, “Good eve! I—I’m William, Heldor’s son. Do you have a message from my mother?”
“Well, not exactly.”
Uh-oh! Something wasn’t right. She looked friendly enough, but her voice had sharpened and her eyes were cold. William moved closer to Pinch.
She smiled, and William looked up at two perfect rows of sharp little teeth. His breath rushed out. Oh, no! Oh, no! He’d let something dangerous into the cottage. He knew better than to open the door to a stranger, especially when Da wasn’t around. His mouth dropped open. “Wha-a-a-t—”
“Oh, quit your sniveling!” the woman snapped. “I do hate it when your sort does that.”
William placed his hands on his thighs to stop his legs from shaking. He took a couple of deep breaths.
“That’s better,” she said. “Now raise your head and look at me. After all, I dressed for the occasion—pretty lights and all.”
He raised his eyes. He could not stop staring at those teeth! “Are—are you going to eat us?”
“Am I what?” The stranger broke into peals of raspy laughter. Slipping off her hood, she said, “Really! How old are you?”
“Twel—twelve summers.”
“Twelve summers, and you still believe in stories meant to frighten babies? Do I look like a wolf? I am not going to eat you.”
William glanced at Pinch.
“I said, look at me!” the woman commanded. “You don’t need to worry about your brother. My business is with you. Good.”
She took off her gloves and slowly circled the small cottage, touching his mother’s and father’s things. The twinkling lights about her head moved with her. She drew a long bony finger down the blade of his father’s knife.
William gulped. Who, or what, was she?
When she was done examining the knife, she threw back the folds of her cloak. “Now that I have your attention, let us talk. First, this is not how to welcome a guest. However, stuck in this forsaken place, it doesn’t surprise me that you’ve not been taught any manners. You should provide a seat by the fire and something to eat.”
He’d been taught manners! His hands shook as he dragged a bench closer to the hearth. Then he had to swallow a couple of times before saying, “We’ve—we’ve only got an apple, or two, left.”
“Thank you,” she said, sweeping her gown to one side as she sat. “Two apples, please.”
William sidled around the edge of the room to pick up the apples. His stomach rumbled as he looked at them. He scuffled closer to her and held them out.
Daintily, she plucked both apples from his hands with the tips of her fingernails. “Humph! Well, I can’t say I’m surprised at what lack of care you seem to have. Heldor and Lirian have not only neglected to teach you any manners, but now they’re starving you. Really! Some people should never have children.”
William could feel his face getting red. How dare she talk about Da and Ma like that! He clenched his hands.
She bit into one of the apples. “Pah!” She spit the bite into the fire and threw both apples into the ashes. “Nasty-tasting things! Not fresh at all.”
William lurched toward the fire—maybe he could rescue the apples. She put a foot out and tripped him. He sprawled at her feet.
“There. That’s better. That’s where you should be when addressing the great witch of the fae folk. La Grande Morga, at your service. You may call me Morga.”
He scooted around, sat up and put a hand to his head. “Witch? Fae folk?”
“Yesssss.” She leaned over him, and William could smell the stink of sulfur, like rotten eggs. The lights that floated about her head began to hiss.
He squinted. The flashing lights came from flying yellow worms! And each had a tiny mouth full of teeth that snapped as the worms tumbled about her dark hair.
All of William’s joints went watery. “What—what are those?”
“Do you like them? They’re my pets. Grimwyrms.”
William kicked out and slid backward until he was against Pinch’s cot. Grimwyrms were the nightmare stuff of old tales. They weren’t real. They couldn’t be real!
“Don’t worry, if you do exactly as I ask, they’ll not harm you,” Morga said. “Now, the reason I’m here is that your father was doing a small favor for me. Only”—she stopped to pull something out of a pocket—“he’s met with a little accident.” She held up a tuft of red hair with a yellow ribbon around it.
“That’s Ma’s hair. Da always carries it!” William started to thrust his hand out but quickly withdrew it.
“I told you I had a little something to give you.” She dropped the lock of hair and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her hands upon.
William jerked forward and snatched it up, clutching it to his chest. “Why—why do you have it?”
“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it seems Heldor fell from Cliven Rock. The village folk found him at the base of the cliff and buried him in the old burial ground. I would have come sooner to tell you, but it did take a while to find this place. It is rather out of the way—”
“Agggh . . .” William pitched forward. “N-n-n-no! No! No!”
Pinch yawned and sat up in bed. “William?”
“Well, the little one is just in time for the news.” Morga smiled.
“No!” William pointed a shaky finger at her. “G‑g‑g‑-go! Go away!”
“What is it?” Pinch rubbed his eyes.
William leapt from the floor and pulled his brother to his chest. “I don’t believe you!”
Pinch began to cry. He pushed against William. “Let me see!”
Morga rose. “I cannot abide the sound of human blubbering. And I can see you’re in no state to listen to reason, so I’ll take my leave. However, it is important that someone honor your father’s pact and perform a few simple tasks. So we’ll meet again, when you’re a little calmer. I can see myself to the door.” She put on her gloves and slowly stretched each arm out, longer and longer.
“Who’s here?” asked Pinch.
William clapped his hands firmly over Pinch’s eyes. At the door she turned and flicked a small black tongue across her sharp teeth. “Soon,” she said, and stepped into the swirling dark.
Chapter 3
The day dawned cold but calm.
William beckoned for Pinch and they made their way to the old sledge by the shed. Da had taken the good one to bring back supplies, but this one was smaller and easier to handle.
“William, the goats aren’t here to pull us,” Pinch said.
“I know.” The goats were wintering in the lower pastures. Still, William tucked Pinch beneath hides and coverlets they’d dragged out from their beds. “I’m strong. I can pull when we can’t slide.” He handed his brother a metal lantern filled with embers. “Don’t drop that.”
“Are we going because of the bad lady in my dream?” Pinch asked.
“Dreams can’t hurt you,” William said, glad that Pinch had believed him when he’d said that last night had simply been a bad dream. “We’re going because we’re out of food. And we need to find Da. One of his friends in the village will know where he is.”
William had already tucked his mother’s lock of hair and his father’s knife into his coat. He turned to take a last look at his home.
There was sooty writing on the outside of their door. How had he missed that just moments ago?
Pinch looked past William. “What’s that?”
William sounded out the words silently. Whiter than snow is love’s light atremble. Thirteen for Morga—scooped in a thimble. Instantly, his stomach felt queasy. Thirteen for Morga. Thirteen what? And did she know they were leaving?
William yanked the sledge rope.
“Wait!” Pinch called. “What’s it say?”
“Nothing.”
“Does, too,” Pinch grumbled. “It’s writing.”
“It’s just some sort of riddle, I guess. Or—”
“I like riddles!”
“It’s not that kind of riddle. It’s more of a . . .” William couldn’t find the right word. Finally, he said, “It’s a sort of task, I think.”
“A task? Did Da write it?”
“No.” William felt his heart sinking. Not Da. It was that witch. “We have to go.” He pulled the sledge onto the trail.
“But who wrote it?” Pinch shouted.
“I don’t know!”
Pinch stuck his thumb in his mouth.
William had no idea who this Morga was, or what Da might have been doing for her, but he did not want to be here if she showed up again. And he didn’t believe Da was dead. Witches lied.
Whenever they came to an open space, William stood on the runners and they swooshed downward. But the mountain above the tree line was covered with loose shale, so it was difficult to use the sledge for sliding. For great stretches of the way, William had to pull and push it. And many times, Pinch got off and helped. It was taking longer than William expected. By midday they’d only gotten as far as the path that led off to Cliven Rock.
Cliven Rock was a boulder that teetered on the edge of a steep cliff. It was a favorite place where they sometimes went for a picnic. There they could look out upon the whole world spread before them. William had always loved the place. But now? He couldn’t help picturing Da lying broken, far below. He was tempted to have a look at the ledge; maybe there would be some sign that might tell him the truth.
No. It was too dangerous in winter, especially with Pinch. And he was sure the witch had lied.
In celebration of Native American Heritage Month this November, Penguin Random House Education is highlighting books that detail the history of Native Americans, and stories that explore Native American culture and experiences. Browse our collection here: Native American Creators
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Thank you for your interest in DK Learning | Phonic Books. To download the DK Learning | Phonic Books sampler with four complete readers, please click here and complete the form. Once your information is successfully submitted, a link to download the sampler will be provided on the confirmation screen. Click here to learn
Translanguaging is a communicative practice of bilinguals and multilinguals, that is, it is a practice whereby bilinguals and multilinguals use their entire linguistic repertoire to communicate and make meaning (García, 2009; García, Ibarra Johnson, & Seltzer, 2017) It is through that lens that we have partnered with teacher educators and bilingual education experts, Drs.
