Free Home by Shayna Krishnasamy

hearth, she smiled then let her hand fall into her lap. “It was foretold,” she said.
    A sharp gust of wind shook the house, the hemlock branches waving above their heads. Liam climbed into Shallah’s lap, turning his face from the old woman, though out of the corner of his eye he watched her still. He watched her hands.
    “Foretold?” Shallah said.
    “He will lead us to safety,” the old woman said.
    “What was foretold?” Shallah asked, her brow creasing. It seemed the woman was purposely thwarting her by speaking in such vague terms. Why couldn’t she speak plainly?
    “There were three,” the old woman said. “My mother received them. A great woman my mother was, both wise and gay at once. The forest wept when she perished. She received them individually, in a bolt of light. Struck her down, they did, brought her to her knees. Three times this happened, in the course of one day – three times she fell. And she wasn’t a young woman, oh no. She was already quite elderly, nearly ready to move on. But perhaps it had to be so. The old are closer to the other world, some already partly there, sharing both worlds at once.”
    The old woman nodded sagely.
    “She told no one for many years, for even her greatest friends didn’t know her true nature, and wouldn’t have understood. It was only as she lay dying and the air was full of the trees’ grief that she gave the knowledge over to me. And I still only a girl, for I’d come to her so late in life, a miracle child they’d called me. She told me that you would come one day, and that I should tell you what you needed to know. I have been waiting so very long.”
    For a moment the old woman held her head as though to demonstrate the hardship of having to wait so very long. But as Shallah couldn’t see and Liam was regarding her warily, her gesture had no effect. She peeked tentatively at the two of them through her gnarled fingers.
    “What were the three?” Shallah asked.
    “Prophecies,” the woman said, abandoning her pretence. “Three prophecies. It was unusual, of course, for one to receive all three, but her nature made it possible.”
    “Her nature?” Again Shallah felt a stab of irritation. Couldn’t she be clearer?
    “Her mother was tree, and her father part wolf. Somewhere on his own father’s side, I believe, though we were never quite sure. Wolves can be so secretive.” She dismissed all wolves with a flick of her hand.
    “I’m sorry,” Shallah said slowly. “Have I misunderstood you?”
    “It isn’t for you to understand.”
    “Your father was half –”
    “Please don’t let it trouble you.”
    Shallah closed her eyes and felt her questions flow away like so many leaves on the air. She felt that if she kept her eyes shut she might never fret again. It was a calming thought.
    “What were the three?” she asked again, though she wasn’t sure she would listen to the answer. Answers seemed so tedious.
    “The first I have already told you. There would be a dark skinned boy led by a sightless woman. The boy would lead us to safety.” Shallah nodded wobbly.
    “The second prophecy was to be conveyed to the dark trees of the north, and the third to the wolf chief in the western valley. They concerned the fates of those two races.”
    Shallah waited expectantly.
    “I can’t tell you what these prophecies foretold. It is not my right to do so,” the old woman said. “Only a knowing member of these races can pass the knowledge on, and then only if it so desires. It must be a willing conveyance.”
    “But you are part tree –”
    “I am much more than that,” the old woman said. “I can tell you this. All of the prophecies involve the boy. In one he is a protector, in another, a weapon. And of course, in our own, a saviour.”
    “Why do we need to be saved?” Shallah asked. “Aren’t we safe here?”
    “You came through the dead wood; you must have felt its pain. Soon it will all be that way. Even here in the lushest part