Whisper Thornpaw's Arc

Chapter 6 of 9

Whisper sat by the stone marker long after the guard's lanterns dimmed. She unrolled a slender birch bark scroll across her knees. Charcoal notes ran down it in her own hand. Every tune was hers. None of them had words a band would know. A tambourine alone could not fill a stage, and no fiddler would follow a song they had never heard. She walked to think. A curving path opened where none had been before, its dark dirt glowing with small blue sparks. She followed it deeper into the trees. The sparks led her to a clearing she did not remember crossing. In the middle stood an old bandstand. Dark wood. Carved cat faces at each post. Faded drapes hung in purple and orange folds. Two lanterns swung above the empty floor. It was a stage waiting for a band. Whisper climbed up and brushed the dust away. She shook out her caravan rug and laid it in front of the platform. She hung her tambourine from a hook by the curtain. She pinned her birch scroll to the back post so any new player could read her tunes. At the edge of the clearing she planted a dark wooden sign. Music notes curled across its face. Band Recruitment, it read. Beside it she set a bare post for hanging instruments, so anyone who came could show what they played. Then she knelt by a cluster of white puffball weeds at the stage's foot. She closed her eyes. She blew. Seeds lifted into the dark like small stars. "Send me players who will stay," she whispered. The clearing held still. The stage was ready. The wish was made. For the first time, the band had a place to come home to — even if no one had come yet.