‘First, let us decide on Susan’s fate.’
‘Guilty. Guilty.’ Led by Jemima, they begin to chant.
‘She is guilty!’ Jemima raises her hands in the air triumphantly. ‘She must be punished. How do we deal with witches, Year Six?’
They are going to start listing all the terrible things that have been done to witches. The hanging and drownings, burnings and executions. This is out of control. I’m going to get a teacher. I turn to leave.
‘I’m not a witch,’ Susan screams it so loud it stops me in my tracks. ‘She is!’
I feel my neck prickle. I turn back slowly.
‘She’s been doing strange things ever since she got here.’ Susan’s voice is strangled but gaining momentum with each word. ‘She communicates with birds.’
My head fizzes and burns.
‘They follow her. You’ve seen it. You’ve all seen it.’
The birds are clouding the sky, their dark shadows clearly visible through the green. I clench my fists tight and hold them back.
I try to convince myself that no one really believes in witches here. Jemima is just a bully. Susan is just saying anything to get herself off the hook.
‘She was in the toilets with Dorcas…’
The fury rushes through my veins like blood after a race. All the witches in history screech at me to escape. Run, they tell me. Run.
‘…and Dorcas said she’d seen her flying.’
The birds are too strong now; there’s no stopping them.
‘Tell them, Dorcas.’
Dorcas never lies. She tries to say something, but Susan sees her loyalty and talks over the top of her. ‘I’m not making it up. I’m not. Wilde’s the real witch. It’s her.’
She points her finger at me.
Everything is out of control. I’m running, with the whole class at my heels. Birds fly in my wake, fending off my classmates with beaks and claws. As soon as I run, the class see me for what I am. Though none of them really believe I can fly or that I’m a witch, they know now that I’m weird and weirdness is contagious. They want to deal with me once and for all.
17
I run all the way to the waterfall without thinking. I don’t consider how treacherous the steps are or how I’ll escape the gorge once I’m in it. My legs just take me there as if they’ve been programmed by someone else.
Some of the class are still close to me. The birds bought me a few minutes and some classmates gave up straight away but I can see Jemima and a few of the others are now gaining ground. If they’d follow me this far they must mean business. It’s like they know where I’m going. Like something bigger than us is at work. My legs hurt from running but I can’t stop and face them. I keep going against the pain.
Think clearly, Wilde. Don’t panic. We have run away from school. It’s Year Six code to keep things to ourselves but surely someone from our class will tell or one of the staff will notice.
I think of how empty the school is with most other classes on trips and residentials or working on their own end-of-term projects. The receptionist obsessed with his file and making calls. Gwyneth is preening and rehearsing and contacting her ‘fans’ on social media. No one will notice until it’s too late.
I take the steps down two at a time, four at a time, ten at a time. At the bottom I crouch to recover. I don’t know how I did that without breaking my ankles. Looking up, I can see the others through the trees. Jemima is shouting, howling, wild. There’s no way out but up the steps I just came down. I look around desperately. I am too near the water. What are they going to do? They are out of control. I’ll hide behind the waterfall. It’s the only hope I have.
Scaling the rocks, I race along the path to the water. Not worrying about falling this time. Into that palace of glimmering light. It’s too thin from the drought to hide me properly. I crouch in a corner. There is no escape.
They reach the bottom of the steps. Please let them not see me. Please.
Of course, they do. They know this place as well as I do. Better. They’ve lived here all their lives. I press back into the rock. Water echoes. The world in falling patterns. Water spraying my face. I am part of this place. I will take them on.
I stand with my feet firmly on the floor, clench my fists, as they see me, and slip and slide along the path. Jemima leading. Dorcas. Holly. Susan. Lewis.
They face me, panting, tired. They look uncertain now. As if they know this has gone too far.
‘Stop. This is madness.’ I shout to be heard over the waterfall.
Susan looks wretched. Tears mark dirty lines down her face, and she is holding her stomach. I can see that she has been sick. I’m so angry for her. For me. For all the witches, and the ones who weren’t but were punished anyway.
‘This whole witch-hunt thing has got to stop,’ I shout. ‘You’ve been telling the story wrong for all these years. The legend of the witch, it’s wrong.’
‘Everything’s gone wrong since you’ve been here.’ Jemima isn’t going to let it go. ‘The curse has come back.’
She gets agreement from Holly and scared silence from the others. Jemima shouts louder. ‘It isn’t just the letters. It’s the real curse. Winter’s curse is back, and it came back at the same time as you. Only this time you’re trying to kill us with the heat. Soon there will be no water left and we’ll die.’
‘She hasn’t brought the heat back. It’s the climate crisis,’ Dorcas shouts at Jemima and Jemima shoves her violently.
‘Stop. Please stop it,’ Susan begs.
The Falls of Snow thunder around us despite the lack of rain. We are in a different world here in this cave. Jemima shoves Dorcas again and she falls on to the path. I see blood on her face; she’s hurt. Jemima kicks Dorcas while she’s down.
‘No!’ I yell it louder than I’ve ever yelled before.
Jemima kicks Dorcas again and that’s when I lose it. I can’t hold the anger in anymore.
‘No.’ I throw my hands way above my head and make a noise I’ve never made before. ‘Aeeeeeeeeeeyaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeeeee’. High-pitched. Keening. It isn’t human. It is Wilde’s call. And they hear it.
The birds come crashing through the waterfall. My classmates scream and cower, but I’ve gone too far to care. They deserve every bit of fear. I keen again, gutturally, then roar from deep in my belly. The sound fills the cavern. ‘Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiaeeeeeeyiiiii.’
I bring the birds to me in their hundreds. Let myself feel the magic properly for the first time. Channel the magic into them. The birds understand. I’m pouring the strength into them, and they grab the other children with their beaks and claws, lifting them through the curtain of water into the air. They take Dorcas. They take Susan and Lewis. Holly puts up a good fight but she’s no match for them. Hundreds of birds of all kinds picking them up one by one. They try to take Jemima, but I grab her for myself, lift her into the air.
They all deserve this. They all betrayed me, like they all betrayed Winter. My anger is Arctic cold. Revenge for all the witches of history.