Nina Redfeather's Arc

Chapter 1 of 12

Nina Redfeather had drawn the shadow four times, and no grown-up believed her. It came every night in her dreams, tall and thin, standing at the foot of her bed. It never spoke. It only pointed at the window, out toward the black spruce and the snow. Nina wanted to know what it wanted. She was sure it wanted something. At breakfast she showed her mother the newest drawing. "It was here again," Nina said. "It pointed at the trees." Her mother poured coffee and did not look up. "You're nine, Nina. Dreams aren't real. Eat your eggs." Her teacher had said the same thing on Monday. So had her uncle, who laughed. Nina folded the drawing and put it in her coat pocket. If no grown-up would help her, she would find the answer herself. The shadow always pointed the same way. Tonight she would follow where it pointed. That night she waited until the house went quiet. The shadow came. It pointed at the window, then it faded. Nina pulled on her boots. She climbed out and walked into the snow, past the black spruce, following the line the shadow had shown her. The snow crunched under her boots. Her breath hung white in the cold. She walked farther than she had ever gone alone. Then the trees opened, and she stopped. A hut stood in the clearing. It perched on two giant chicken legs, yellow and scaled, with claws sunk in the snow. Crooked timbers leaned every which way. Moss hung from the roof. A small ladder dropped from the door to the ground. Yellow light glowed in the windows like watching eyes. Nina's heart pounded. This was real. This was not a dream. The shadow had led her here. The door creaked open. An old woman leaned out over the railing. She stood in a wooden bucket and gripped a gnarled oak staff. Her eyes found Nina at once, as if she had been waiting. "So," the old woman said. "The shadow finally sent you." Nina's mouth went dry. "You know about the shadow?" "I know it has been visiting you." The old woman tapped her staff on the wood. "I know what it is. I know what it wants." She smiled, and it was not a kind smile. "The question, little one, is whether you truly wish to know." Nina thought of her mother, her teacher, her laughing uncle. Not one of them had believed her. This stranger did. That should have felt like relief. Instead a cold weight settled in her chest. "I do," Nina said. "I have to know." "Then climb up." The old woman stepped back from the door. "But understand this. Once you learn what the shadow wants, you cannot un-know it. And it will want something from you in return." Nina looked back at the dark trees, at the way home. Then she put her foot on the first rung and climbed.