The Bounet Rodzos loved the cookies Coco had baked for them. She knew this because the plate they had been on was scrubbed clean and set in the middle of her doorstep, wrapped in shimmering silver cloth like none she had ever seen. Next to the platter was a heavy wool bag that clinked metallically when she lifted it. She tugged apart the draw strings and found four shining horseshoes and a handful of nails as transparent as crystal. A gift for Hector. Her chest squeezed so tight with gratitude, stars danced in her vision.

In addition to the gift, her ruined gate and fence had been replaced during the night and there were four new posts growing at the corners of Hector's pen. A prick of worry needled her chest.

What if he doesn't last long enough to use the pen?

He will, he must.

Strictly speaking, the fence was growing, too, except that it seemed mostly finished, whereas the pen corners needed some more height to them. The fence was made of two young trees that sprang from the earth as the posts for the gate and at the height of four feet they bent at a right angle to run horizontally across the front and side of her garden. Every six inches or so a branch (or were they roots?) burrowed down from the trunks into the earth as the pickets. Leaves, vines and flowers sprouted madly the lengths of the fence as well. The gate was more traditional: cut and sanded boards; except that there were runes and symbols carved in them. She couldn't make any sense of carvings, they were nothing like the nature scenery and animals that Jean-Baptist had made.

She would have to bake more cookies. Or perhaps a cake.

The sun would be up soon and she had promised to take Hector to the farm shortly after sunrise. They would have to walk fast.

Even so, she paused at the gate, Hector's steaming breath at her shoulder. Would Soufflé's charm work when night fell? She was afraid, but he desperately needed the shoes.

"Let's go, then, Hector," she said, adjusting the horseshoes bag and a second bag from the chalet higher on her shoulders and reaching for the gate. It swung open on its own as her hand approached. "Ooo!" she exclaimed. That was worth both cake and cookies.

Then she was in the dirt lane on her way to see Daniel.

***

"There are many sorts of fairies and fairy kind, or as some say, fairy creatures in the world. Some are very friendly and will gladly lend you a hand if you ask. In return, you must give them something; a few shiny buttons, glass beads, a bowl of cream or the last apple of the harvest, that sort of thing. There are also evil fairy creatures who will try to lead you astray from the path," Fanchon's voice echoed again in Cocot's mind as she tiptoed along the dirt road.

"They would hurt you, if they can."

"Come along then, Hector," Cocot encouraged the old horse. They had to keep a lively step if they were not to be too late. Before they reached the pine root stairs that began the shortcut to the farm, the girl had to send Hector up the steep hill through the brambles and tangled underbrush. Once the horse was moving upwards—no puny thorns or saplings could stop him—and after a final slap on his rump, she hurried around to the stairs.

She climbed the first stair, but hesitated at the second. There was something different about the pine-root stairs that morning, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was. Without giving herself time to worry about it, she bounded to the top and called for Hector to join her. He plodded forward, nothing remaining of the dark monster that had chased her in the road and tried to kill her on her doorstep.

"Hurry up! New shoes for you today, a cure in two weeks and a warm stall for you before autumn sets in, if I'm not mistaken," she called, skipping along in her pirate shirt and pants. "This is the beginning of a new life for you. Hopefully, a new beginning for both of us."

While she skipped, she pictured the stairs in her mind's eye and this time she saw the difference; they were more evenly spaced and less haphazard, more stair-like and covered in spongy moss. They certainly had not changed overnight, she argued with herself. Roots do not switch places or move around in only a day or two.

A strange bird song interrupted her thoughts. With each call, it sounded like a child laughing, or a baby squealing in delight. She frowned into the forest, too thick and tangled to see through.

Now it was Hector urging her to walk faster. He nudged her with is nose and she stroked his neck. They turned the bend to the dark hollow where the spruce grew at the foot of the make-shift bridge.

A cloaked figure disappeared behind the vines that hung over the rocky cliff.

Cocot drew up short in surprise and grabbed for Hector's shoulder. The horse snorted and continued walking, completely unconcerned that someone else had been on the path not a second earlier, and might be hiding there still.

"Wait, wait, Hector! There's somebody..." she started. A gust of wind blew through the valley, bending tree tops, scattering leaves, setting the vines swaying and showing clearly that no one was hiding at the cliff face or had the space to hide there. Obviously, her imagination had decided to run amok that morning: tidy stairs, babies laughing, cloaked figures disappearing into rock. Ridiculous.

"All right, let's go," she whispered to the horse, even though he had never stopped walking.

As she passed close to the waving vines, she heard a scrape and a metallic click—a key turning in a lock.

Then she remembered her bag with the shoes for Hector. One of the metal shoes must have shifted against the others.

At the edge of the high banks of the mountain stream, she wondered how she would get him across since he could not walk on the fallen tree. She shouldn't have worried, though, because Hector took the matter into his own hands (so to say) and crashed down the bank, crossed the icy stream as though it were not there and climbed slowly up the other side. She had to hurry across the tree trunk to catch up.

It was half an hour after sun up. This was approximately what she had told Daniel and she sighed with relief. Her steps were quick and light on the narrow path across the field and to the farmhouse.

She came to a halt when she saw Daniel sitting on his heels, leaning against the front wall and smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. He tossed the cigarette away, irritated, when she arrived. Hector halted, a grumble coming from his throat.

"Good morning," she said. "I've brought Hector, just like we talked about."

"You're late," he stated. "I was ready to go nearly half an hour ago." He pushed off from the wall and slung a bag with leather straps over his shoulders. His hair was unwashed and uncombed and his eyelids were puffy either from lack of sleep or from crying.

Although Cocot could not quite picture him crying—not even in the cold solitude of night, as she often did. There was a rigidness to his posture and a clenched sullenness to his jaw that told Cocot he did not allow himself the luxury of feeling bitter or lonely.

The stench from the last fragments of cigarette smoke stung her nostrils.

"I said shortly after sunrise. I'm sorry if I kept you waiting." She took the wool bag from her shoulder, hurrying to change the subject. "I received these from some...friends. Can you use them for Hector? That way, I don't have to buy any this time."

She held out the bag towards Daniel, who grabbed it and pulled one of the shoes free. It flashed silver and white in the glow of the early morning.

He frowned and a crease appeared between his brows. "I'm not sure. What are they made of?"

"Whatever horseshoes are normally made of, I suppose," she said. Whatever the Bounet Rodzos normally made horseshoes of, that is.

"I doubt these are any good; they're too light."

"Would you mind trying? I mean, is there any way we could try them this one time? My money has to last—I have to watch my spending carefully, until I'm older and can get a job, if need be." She clamped her lips shut. Might as well paint a sign on her forehead: Poor Wretch, no family and no income.

"Fine, I'll try. Don't expect me to bail you out every time you need something from now on, though. I have my own problems," he said, throwing the shoes back in with the others.

"But I don't expect anything at all from you," she answered.

"Good, I have enough to do as it is. Between sowing crops, selling at the market, mucking the stables and everything else that drunkard says I have to do, I can't save your skin, too."

"I never asked you to do anything for me," she replied, confused by his onslaught. "You offered, and I accepted. I won't ask for more."

"Just so it's clear. I won't be saving you," he snapped. "I'll be back Sunday evening, you can come then for your horse. Then I can weed the garden before I muck the stables and patch the chicken coop."

He fit an old bridle and bit on Hector's head and yanked the reins for him to start walking.

"Wait, I forgot something," she called. Pulling the Greek mythology from her second bag, she hurried towards him and presented the book to him. "This is for you to borrow, in exchange for the constellation book. You can take it already, if you want. For this evening, in town." Too late, it occurred to her that a boy Daniel's age might have other, more interesting plans for a night in town, but she could not imagine what they would be. Impossible take her book back now, though; it was there between them, heavy in her hands.

"What do you mean, for me to borrow?"

"I'm lending you my favorite book because you said I could read your book about the stars. You can keep it all through fall if you like it, but I'll need it back before winter, you understand. I like to reread my favorite stories when it's icy outside." To her, the snow was hovering above them already—it was always there, waiting to fall. "You don't have to let me borrow your book, if it's too important to you. It's nice enough of you to help with Hector."

Daniel was frozen, staring at the book with its worn leather cover and faded gilt lettering. There had once been a picture of a Greek temple under the title, but it had transformed into bumps, ridges and flecks of gold ages ago.

For as long as he stood there, Cocot was condemned to immobility as well. She could hardly take back her offer, but neither could she force the book on him. Hector finally rescued her. The old horse snorted and walked to the tender turnip tops growing in the garden, knocking Daniel from behind in the process.

"No, Hector!" Cocot shouted. Daniel grabbed for both the book and the horse's reins at the same as Cocot dropped the book and reached for the reins. Somehow, between the two of them, they managed to save the turnips from being eaten and the fragile book from falling in the gravel and dirt.

They smiled at each other.

"I didn't think you honestly wanted to read the stars book," Daniel admitted cautiously. "I thought you were only being polite."

"Oh, but I do! I would love to know more about the stars. I never see them, besides a bit from my window, that is."

"Can I...can I take this one now?"

She nodded and he fitted it in his back-pack.

"Wait here," he said and suddenly ran to the door. A few short seconds later, he was back, holding a green book. "For you. Until I return yours."

She nodded and waved goodbye, patting Hector as he ambled by. "Oh, Daniel!" she called. "Make sure he is in the barn before the sun sets. He gets terribly agitated when it's dark out!"

He waved goodbye and kept going. Waiting until he disappeared along the drive, she very slowly began to follow them. Imagination or not, she was afraid of the path in the woods that wound along the cliff wall and down to the pine tree root stairs. Without Hector to walk with her, she did not have the courage.

The more she thought about it, the more she was certain that she had heard a key turning in a lock behind the vines, and the other day, something had sighed from the crevasse behind the great spruce. And the baby's laughter? Was it a strange owl or something else? She was not going to try and find out, not alone, in any case. She took the long way home, down the drive to the dirt road and then around to the chalet; sprinting when she reached the root stairs.

"There are also evil fairy creatures who will try to lead you astray from the path," She heard her mother saying over and over. "They would hurt you, if they can. Cocot, they would hurt you."

*** Is her mother still worried and speaking to her from beyond, or is Cocot's imagination too strong? ***