Rat Song

Chapter 9

With nothing to show for his efforts save the faint trail of ash showing where he'd used the poker to aid his search, William blamed the squeaking he'd heard on the creaky floorboards in Emma's room. He couldn't risk his parents searching for the rat, not when Burdock was the only one who knew as well as he did that something was troubling Emma.

Father did not react well.

Coal dust burned William's nose and throat from hours spent shoveling fuel into the forge. Blackness clung to calluses that had cracked after scrubbing every last speck of ash off of Father's tools. Dark crescents peeked out from under William's nails where the coal had worked its way inside him.

Though his work at the forge had left him aching, William led Emma and a few of her friends into the forest to gather kindling and, with the aid of the guitar slung over his shoulder, to test Burdock's theory. While time would mend his body as well as it always did, only knowing how to save his sister from whatever ailed her could ease the pain in his heart.

Trees loomed above them with their dying leaves blocking all but the thinnest slivers of sunlight. A lone raven peered at the children with cold black eyes. The entire forest was quiet and still, with not a single creature daring to break the silence.

Once upon a time, the children would have turned even the most tedious chore into a game filled with shouting and laughter that would send even the most tolerant birds fleeing to calmer areas to roost in. Today they gathered kindling without saying a word, with only the faint rustling of twigs rubbing against each other breaking the silence.

William's fingers itched to strum his guitar, but he couldn't play for them yet, not when they were still so close to town. By the time the children had gathered enough wood to satisfy their parents, they would be far enough for him to play the Hymn of the Whole without fear of interruption.

At least, that was what he told himself as he picked his way through the dense foliage. Burdock had warned him there would be consequences if he played a foul note, but what would happen if someone overheard them? If the Hymn was strong enough to lure the children out of Hamelin, what could it do if he failed to follow Burdock's instructions?

Seeing how the song had seemingly altered its listeners made William uneasy enough as it was. Dread coiled in his stomach as the children whispered amongst themselves too quietly for him to hear, occasionally glancing at him in a way that made it clear he was naught but an unwelcome intruder. They moved in unison like individual water droplets in a rushing river, with no child drifting from the rest of the group for more than an instant as they gathered heaps of kindling.

They'd changed, but so had he.

"How have you all been?" William asked, his words breaking through the quiet as loudly as leaves crackling underfoot. "Have you settled in alright now that you're home?"

Half a dozen pairs of eyes darted to him all at once. This was not the loving attention of an eager audience but a cold, calculated scrutiny.

"We're fine," little Peter Farnsworth said, air whistling out of the gap where one of his front teeth used to be. "Right, everyone?"

"Yes."

"It's nice to be home."

"I missed helping Father in the fields."

One by one the rest of the children voiced their agreement, yet their smiles never reached their eyes. Each of them either stood far too still or constantly fidgeted as if a swarm of ants was crawling over their skin.