O-lay o-leee!
His heart leapt into his throat. Something had moved, back among the humble wood markers. Something shrouded rose up from one of the graves.
Leo tried to scream but had no voice.
Then he remembered.
“Rose Red!” The name came out more frightened than he liked, but his heart was still hammering so hard he could scarcely form the words. He staggered forward, tripping over a low stone, landing hard on his hands and knees but calling, “Rose Red! Rosie, wait!” By the time he’d righted himself, she’d vanished.
It was she, Leo knew it was. Just like when he’d first seen her in the woods, terrifying in all her veils, but still very much herself. “Rosie, please!” he called, hastening toward the grave by which she had knelt. He paused there to rub grass from his knees and realized with some embarrassment that he was still in his nightshirt and dressing gown. Drawing the gown more tightly about himself and feeling rather silly, he said in a lower voice, “Rosie, I know you’re here. I know how you are, disappearing when you’re angry at me. Please don’t be angry, though! I didn’t mean to be gone for so long, but the people back home wouldn’t let me come, and then I came and you were gone! I thought you had—”
He stopped, for his eyes, adjusting to the moonlight, were just able to make out the word carved across the grave marker: Mousehand.
Realization sank in, and his shoulders bowed at the weight of it. Of course, that made sense. Her “old dad” was the gardener; what an idiot he had been not to realize it! The gardener who did not see what other people saw. The gardener who had set Leo on the path to meet Rose Red.
The gardener who had chided Leo because, after a summer with her, he had still wanted to find the monster.
“I’m sorry, Rosie,” he said in a whisper, not expecting her to hear. “You’ve been all alone up here, haven’t you? No wonder you’re mad at me.”
“I ain’t mad at you, Leo.”
She appeared at his side. He’d forgotten how strange she was, all wrapped up in rags and her face covered; or perhaps when he was younger he simply hadn’t noticed. He couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through him at first sight of her. Then he put out a quick hand and took hers. He half expected to find himself on his back the next instant, with the breath knocked out of him. Instead, her tiny gloved fingers wrapped around his and gave a gentle squeeze. “I ain’t mad,” she repeated.
He turned and looked at her. She was scarcely any taller than when he’d last seen her, and seemed smaller still compared to the great height to which he had grown. Her body, which had always been thin, was wasted beneath its wrappings and rags. He shuddered again but said, “I’m glad. I’m glad I found you.”
“I’m glad you did too.” Her veiled head bowed and her fingers tightened before releasing his. “But I ain’t supposed to see you.”
“What? Why not?”
“It’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous for you?”
“Dangerous for you, Leo.”
His mouth went dry, but he forced himself to speak. “You couldn’t hurt me, Rosie.”
“Oh no, not me!” she exclaimed quickly. “I couldn’t hurt nobody. But, Leo, the monster—”
“There is no monster.” Leo’s voice was hard when he spoke, and he took a step away from her, folding his arms over his chest. “There is no monster, Rose Red. I saw the cave. I saw the reflection, and I know.”
“Then . . . then you didn’t see—”
“There is no monster, and that’s that!” His tone softened. “You’re living alone now, aren’t you?”
“I have Beana.”
“You’re starving.”
“I’m a little hungry.”
“You can’t stay up here, living like this.”
She shrugged. The wind blew down the mountain, tugging at her rags and veils, and she looked quite terrible standing there in the moonlight. Terrible yet frail. “I’ll get by.”
“You’ll die.”
“Maybe.”
Leo shook his head, grinding his teeth. An idea came to him in a flash, and he knew it was a bad one. But he couldn’t shake it and, the more he thought about it, the more he knew he must say it. “You need to come with me,” he said.
She did not answer but tilted her head at him.
“Back home, I mean,” he continued all in a rush, afraid that common sense would stop him if he didn’t say his piece now. “You need to leave the mountain and come back to my home, where I can make sure you don’t starve.”
“Oh, Leo!” she gasped.
“What?” he demanded irritably. “It’s not such a bad idea, and what do you have to keep you here now? I know how it is for you, Rosie. I know these people and their dragon-eaten superstitions. It won’t be like that for you where I live, and—”