Free Hercufleas by Sam Gayton Page B

comes back to Tumber, and you wish to sleep? Those he guzzled in the woodn’t will not sate his hunger forever.’
    â€˜Yeah, Stickler was all greasy and bony,’ said Greta. ‘Onk-Onk and Ugor were meaty though.’
    â€˜Even so. When he returns, this flea is the only hope we have.’
    Hercufleas lay still, but his mind raced.
This flea?
Why was the old babushka talking about
him?
    Greta scowled. ‘I still say you’re wrong about him.’
    The babushka
tsked
again and drew her lips into a pencil-thin frown. ‘And did you lose your manners when you left for Avalon, along with Tumber’s last florins?’
    Greta blushed, lowering her head. ‘Sorry, Miss Witz.’
    Miss Witz put bony hands on bony hips and stared at Hercufleas. He shut his eye quick and made mumbling sounds.
    â€˜I wonder,’ he heard her mutter. ‘I wonder if he really is the one.’ She sniffed. ‘Let me know when he wakes, child.’
    â€˜Yes, Miss Witz.’
    Hercufleas heard her leave.
    â€˜You know,’ said Greta in the silence after Miss Witz had gone, ‘I was pretending to be asleep before
you
were pretending to be asleep.’
    Hercufleas opened his eyes. He sat up sheepishly.
    â€˜You’re hungry, I bet,’ she said.
    His belly gave a hollow growl. He was ravenous!
    â€˜I’ll take that as a yes,’ she said, running her thumb across the blade of her axe. Without wincing, she squeezed a bright bead of red blood into a thimble and plonked it angrily down on the sill beside him.

    â€˜Don’t choke,’ she said sweetly.
    Hercufleas glugged the thimble down, trying not to gag. Greta’s bitterness was worse than ever – the taste of her anger made his throat raw. He waited for the sweet aftertaste, but it never came.
    Greta’s hope was gone. She no longer believed in him. It wasn’t a surprise, after what he’d done. What surprised him was how painful that was. It hurt worse than being crushed by Yuk.
    â€˜It wasn’t my idea to bring you here,’ Greta said in the silence. ‘I wanted to leave you behind. Like you left me.’
    She bowed her head, tears pattering on the floorboards.
    â€˜I’m sorry, Greta. Please don’t cry.’
    She smiled at that. ‘But I’m so good at it,’ she said. ‘I’ve had so much practice. We all have. Tumber’s other name is the Town of Tears. And I thought you could dry our eyes. I was wrong.’
    Hercufleas couldn’t meet her icy stare.
    â€˜Miss Witz made me go back and find you. She’s my teacher…
was
my teacher. Before Yuk guzzled the school. She’s the reason you’re here, and not still stuck on that tree trunk.’ The ice in her voice softened a little. ‘Me and Artifax rode back to the clearing. It was easy – we could see the fires from Tumber. And I heard you. Shouting those things, about your fleamily. Saying their names, over and over, like prayers. And then I realised. You might not care about
me
, but you care about
them
, don’t you?’
    Hercufleas looked up. ‘Greta, I…’
    Her gaze went from icy to burning. ‘And Yuk
took them from you
, didn’t he?’
    Hercufleas nodded, and Greta said very quietly, ‘I know how that feels.’
    â€˜Greta? Why did Miss Witz make you come back for me?’
    She shrugged. ‘You’ll have to ask her.’
    â€˜Ah! Awake are we?’ said the old babushka from the door.
    Hercufleas jumped. How long had she been there? She was very stealthy for an old granny.
    â€˜I am Miss Witz,’ she said, hobbling right up to the windowsill. ‘And you are Hercufleas. And Greta brought you back from Avalon, the island of heroes. But you are not a hero, are you?’
    Hercufleas shook his head. ‘No.’
    Miss Witz paused, and Greta looked at the copper bell on the babushka’s ear, but it did not ring.
    â€˜You see, miss?