Rat Song

Chapter 2

William's heart thundered alongside the roaring Tantalus. Murky water smashed fallen branches against hidden rocks, shooting splinters into the sky with a snap. This current would show no mercy, threatening to break bones as easily as it shattered trees' remains.

Emma paid the river no mind. She marched toward the riverbank alongside the other children with her head held high.

"Stay over there!" William's legs trembled as he fought the urge to run. Even if he sprinted straight to the church, none of the adults would get there in time to save the children who were already in the water. They'd be swept downstream, disappearing below the surface as suddenly as they'd vanished into the night all those months ago.

As it was, they'd already been changed for the worse.

Wherever Emma had been for the past year had not been kind to her. Caked-on dirt covered her arms, and her legs wobbled as if she'd just learned how to walk. Much like Tantalus River, her blue eyes held only harshness in their depths. Not even the faintest flicker of recognition met William's gaze, only cold determination.

Once the grass beneath her feet gave way to pebbles, she paused. Smiled. Leapt into the water with laughter bubbling from her lips.

William dove in after her.

The frigid current ripped a gasp from his lips, flooding his mouth with grit. One moment of surprise. That was all it took for the river to drag him into the frenzy of flailing children. An errant foot kicked him in the kidney. Fingers clawed at his arm.

An elbow crashed into his nose.

Cartilage gave way with a wet crunch. The river drowned out his scream.

Water seared down his throat. Crimson streamed from his throbbing nose alongside a trail of bubbles. Air. He needed air. William kicked against the riverbed, only to swim into a sea of thrashing limbs.

No, not thrashing. Pulling.

William broke the surface with a gasp. Blood ran from his nose as he coughed, filling his mouth with a coppery tang.

The children stared at him with blank expressions. They paddled through the river as effortlessly as if it were air, tugging him toward the shore.

"Emma," William croaked. A sputtering cough expelled water from his lungs. "Where is she?"

"She's fine." Little Peter Farnsworth had traded his lisp for a voice as cold as the water surging around them.

William followed his gaze to find his sister fighting against the current. She paddled forward with her eyes firmly fixed on the shore, her arms and legs thrusting in a steady rhythm as she propelled herself toward Hamelin. Only once she reached land did her earlier unsteadiness return. The children who had already made it across surged forward to support her as she hauled herself onto her feet, her legs wobbling beneath her.

William emerged from the river minutes later, spewing silt as he coughed into the mud. Not a single child moved to see if he was alright. They clustered together, surging forward as a group whenever one of the other children needed help getting to their feet.

Emma finally looked at William. She didn't call out to him, didn't run to him and crush him in a sobbing embrace. Instead, she approached him the same way she'd walk to Hamelin's one-room schoolhouse when it was her turn to haul firewood for the stove: shivering with her head bowed and her feet dragging.

"What were you thinking? If you'd drowned, I—" William's voice cracked as it caught in his throat. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing so tightly she let out a high-pitched squeak. "Everyone's been so worried! We thought you were..."