Page 84 of Wilds of Wonder
I lifted a hand and tugged my hood further over my head, lower half of my face covered by the scarf.
“It wasn’t two years in a row,” he said, hands resting on his stomach. “I got that book last year.”
“That’s funny because I’m pretty sure I was the one who walked away with it.”
“After I dropped it to you to save my life and keep the fire sprites from incinerating me to death.”
“All I’m hearing are excuses,” I said, lowering the delicate white mask, covered with blue dust that I blew off. It poofed into the air, shimmery and dancing in the waning sun rays.
I was starting to think there was something to it. That maybe the dust came from the spirits themselves? Or maybe it came from their magic? I couldn’t be sure, would have to gather more evidence to come up with a concrete theory. But this dust had to come from somewhere. It didn’t seem to have any magical properties itself, but it emanated this otherworldly glow that nothing I knew of could create.
The mask was beautiful. Delicate with a firm mouth and strong nose. I wondered under what circumstances Spirit Sky might’ve worn it. Or if he gave it to his high priests or priestesses to wear. There had only been one in the little lighthouse perched on the edge of the isle, which led me to believe if it did get worn by someone, it would’ve been Spirit Sky. Maybe during a masquerade ball. He was known to love throwing those.
I couldn’t wait to get this back to my little bunker and study it in more detail. Add it to my collection.
The sun sank below the horizon ahead of us, the sky a melting pot of pinks, oranges, and purples.
We fell into a comfortable silence. No pressure to speak when both of us needed to retreat into our own thoughts. It was nice, and I’d come to appreciate these moments.
Far below the ocean crashed against the tall cliffs of the sky court, the sound thunderous and roaring.
I turned to face the bone collector, once again this odd sensation pulling at me, making me wish I could reach out and tug that hood off his head. I didn’t know what was coming over me. We’d been leaving more notes for each other than ever before in our secret meeting place. I had hundreds from him at this point.
Notes that talked about his theories about certain artifacts, silly stories, mundane stories, and sometimes, even stories about his childhood, his favorite things to do. Those notes kept me going. Every week, I’d return to our secret spot with something to look forward to.
Just a month ago, my husband had commented that I’d better start smiling again or he was going to shove me off our cliffside home. It might’ve been a joke, but underneath the teasing, there was a warning to his words. He wanted a wife who would meet his every need, who would be sunny and happy and not burden him in any way. Instead of asking me what was wrong, his instinct was to threaten me if he saw any signs of anger or sadness. Little did he know, I’d been sad because I hadn’t heard from the bone collector.
“So what’s next for the white rabbit?” he asked.
I bit my lip under my scarf, not sure if I should even tell him about my crazy plan, but if there was anyone I could talk to about this, it would be the bone collector. “I think the Seven Spirits mythical weapons might be real, and I want to find one of them.”
I felt him go completely still.
“I’ve found evidence pointing to the existence of Spirit Sky’s bolt. I just don’t know exactly where it’s located, but I’m getting closer to finding it.” I took a deep breath. “And once I do, I’m going to use it to gain entry to the Academy of Scholars & Historians.”
I waited for him to tell me I was crazy, for him to laugh, anything. But he just sighed. “If anyone can find it, little rabbit, it’s you.”
The compliment filled me with joy. I didn’t even realize I was seeking his approval until this moment, but it meant everything.
“Until next year, then?” I sat up, realizing it was already getting dark.
The bone collector sat up as well, and I waited for his usual sarcasm, some response about how next year I wouldn’t get so lucky—even though luck had nothing to do with me getting this mask today.
“Do you think it’s odd that we’ve known each other for four years, and I’ve never seen your face? Don’t know your name?”
I stilled, pulse spiking. “That’s our agreement. We have those rules in place for a reason.”
“What if I wanted to know?” He leaned forward, his black cloak rustling as his voice dropped low. “What if I was willing to tell you my name? To show you my face? To trust you?”
I scooted back, putting space between us. “Then I’d say you’re afool. What we’re doing is against the law. We’ve been stealing artifacts that belong to the academy.”
He snorted. “The academy doesn’t do nearly as much for history as we’ve done.”
My annoyance flared. “The academy is amazing. Its entire purpose is to preserve history and to teach young scholars how to thrive as historians. What we do is...” I trailed off, not knowing what I wanted to say.
Not pretend. It was real enough. But we weren’t helping the world. What we did was shrouded in secrecy and anonymity. I hoped to use it for good one day.
“What we’re doing is brave,” the bone collector finished for me. “Far braver than any of those historians sitting in their pretty little academy, sending out treasure hunters to collect artifacts for them to study. They miss so many details by not getting the objects themselves, and half of the artifacts come back broken, pieces gone.”
