The Tree Shepherd's Daughter by Gillian Summers Page A

heard music
nearby, the sound of a harp. Had Elia followed her? She
looked around, but there was no golden-haired witch in
sight. The harping stopped, and then she heard the dial
tone and punched in one of the 1-800 numbers she recalled. An operator answered, "To whom would you like
to make a collect call?"
    "Laurie Abernathy in Los Angeles, California. This
is Keelie Heartwood." Keelie gave the operator Laurie's
number. Thunder rumbled above her as the phone rang.
Keelie's heart pounded against her ribcage, and on the
other end of the receiver, a familiar voice said, "Hello?"
    The operator said, "Will you accept a collect call from
Keelie Heartwood?"
    "Yes!"
    Laurie's voice was like warm sunshine after a cold, rainy
day. It was home and school and listening to new CDs by
the pool. Keelie wanted to transform herself into little bits of
microscopic Keelie pieces and travel through the telephone
cord over the fiber optic network to be with her friend.

    A dark shadow swooped over her. Keelie looked up
into the sky to see what it was-
    -and screamed as razor-sharp talons reached for her
eyes.

     

seven
    "Keelie? Keelie, is that you?"
    Keelie heard her friend's voice, tinny and far above.
She'd dropped and rolled onto the ground, arms over her
head. A harsh screech sounded directly overhead. She
flinched as something brushed her back.
    Eyes closed, she pictured the claws extended like powerful scythes, ready to shred her face. She pulled her legs
up tighter and tucked her face into her arms. A hawk. A
huge one.
    Keelie's muscles felt frozen by the frighteningly shrill
cry and flapping wings. The pay phone cord dangled somewhere above her head, and Laurie's voice was replaced
by a woman's monotone voice, "If you would like to make
a call, please hang up and try again."

    Keelie closed her eyes tighter and covered her head. All
those years of earthquake drills in school finally came in
handy. She listened for more of the bird's movements; instead, she heard only the irritating beeping of the phone.
She twisted her head and peeked between her fingers.
Blackening, swirling storm clouds, but no movement. She
cautiously moved her arm. No hawk hovering above her,
waiting to tear her into shreds.
    She rose to her knees and scanned the surrounding trees.
Still no hawk. Relief flooded through her. It was gone.
    Keelie stood. Something skimmed the back of her head
with a light stroke. Panic returned. She remained perfectly
still, then inhaled sharply when the hawk landed lightly
on the nearby fence. Its claws dug into the wood as it attempted to balance itself, wide wings tented.
    Mouth dry, she gazed into the bird's golden eye as it
scrutinized her. It turned its head, and her fear lessened, replaced by sympathy. The other eye was milky white. Blind.
    Keelie had never been this close to something so majestic and beautiful in her entire life. Its blindness didn't mar
the power, and being this close to it touched something
inside her-tripped a switch deep within her soul.
    A warm breeze ruffled the bird's feathers. The irritating
beeping from the pay phone receiver pulled Keelie's attention away from the hawk, and back to the fact she'd lost
her connection to Laurie: her connection to home.
    Keelie reached for the receiver, picked it up, and stretched closer to the pay phone to push the buttons to
call Laurie. She smiled at the hawk. It watched her, unmoving, until she pressed the metal buttons. The bird cried
out again as if asking her, "What are you doing? Why do
you want to leave?"

    She left the pay phone and walked over to touch the
wooden fence. It was cedar, and in her mind she saw rows
of planted trees. Tree farm.
    The hawk cried out. Keelie turned to see the two men
who had rushed by only minutes before. They walked
through the tower gates, then stopped when they heard
the hawk cry out again. Keelie looked from the bird to the
men. "Is this your bird?"
    One of the men called out,