Autumn’s dad was the first to move, jumping up from his chair and running to Erland’s bedroom. Their mum was only a split second slower, dashing to the kitchen and flinging open the back door. Autumn followed her.
It was still early enough that the summer evening light stretched on and over the woods. Somehow, the air now seemed hotter than ever - even more humid and more stifling than it had at midday. The village was quiet, and she couldn’t hear any birds in the gardens. Autumn couldn’t even hear any cars on the road. Everything seemed eerily still.
Except the whispering and the music. She could hear it more clearly now, better than she ever had done before, and this time it didn’t slip away when she paid attention to it. It had the same urgency as it had done when she had caught a few seconds earlier that evening, when they were walking in the woods, but there was also a much deeper sound. A thrumming, a background drone. Almost like chanting.
Autumn’s mum had spun round and was rifling through some of the still-unpacked boxes in the kitchen.
“What are you looking for, Mum?” asked Autumn, trying to imagine what was more important than following Erland to the woods immediately.
Her mum was silent while she continued rummaging.
“This,” she said after a minute, grabbing something from the bottom of one of the boxes, and passing it to Autumn. “You must take this.”
Autumn glanced down. It was a thick tube of table salt, the type they had used to make salt dough decorations for the tree the previous Christmas.
“Why do I need this?” she asked, confused.
“Salt. The Wildfolk can’t cross a line of salt,” replied her mum. “Look after this carefully and, when I tell you, you must pour out a salt circle around you and Erland. Make sure it is complete, that there are no gaps, and that you both stay inside. That way, you’ll be safe.”
“But we need to get Erland first,” said Autumn. She felt like she was going to be sick and cry both at the same time. “How are we going to do that?”
“Yes, we do,” replied her dad, coming back into the room. In his hand he carried a long, thick staff that she’d never seen before. Carvings ran from tip to tip, and there was a different quality to it. Something familiar. It took Autumn a moment to realise it had the same quiet glow as the bullwandry bowl she had seen only hours earlier. The bowl that Skoo had made. “And we’re going to do that now.”
“But how?” asked Autumn, tears in her eyes.
Rose walked back into the kitchen from the garden. Autumn hadn’t even noticed her slip outside. She was sure Rose had been more stooped before, but now she looked like she was merely carrying her stick, rather than leaning more heavily on it to help her walk. Autumn peered more closely. The stick looked different. She’d never seen those carvings before. Just like her dad’s staff, it was covered in carved runes.
“How?” asked Rose. “Well, we will have help with that.”
I'll have to stop reading Runes as my bedtime story now, it's much too exciting, and becoming a little darker, edgier... luckily I have the time to read in the bright daylight!