Free The Wolf Tree by John Claude Bemis

am only part siren?”
    Conker nodded. “Ray told me. He said your daddy was just a normal man.”
    “All sirens have normal men for fathers,” she said. “But they are enchanted, made into husbands by our singing. My father was not like this. He was no sailor rescued from the cold sea. He gave his love freely to my mother.”
    “Who was he?”
    “I do not know his name. My mother never had a chance to tell me, and the sisters did not remember what he was called. Élodie found him injured in the Terrebonne. The other sisters say he was an outlaw who took refuge in our swamp. My mother cared for his wounds for a time. She fell in love with this man. But after he recovered, he left her. Not long after I was born, my mother left me in the care of my sisters and searched for this man. She died here. I do not know if she ever found him again. Probably not.”
    “How did she die then?” Conker asked.
    Jolie shrugged. “The sisters always said her heart had been poisoned by this wicked outlaw, for she had given her heart to him. This is not the way of our sisters. Love such as this is not … encouraged. I will not suffer the same fate as my mother.”
    Conker narrowed his eyes, but said nothing as Jolie continued cutting curls from his head.
    “The wells are rare and secluded, as this one is,” Jolie said after a moment. “They say the Spanish conquistadors sought them.”
    “Fountains of youth,” Conker said, blowing a lock of hair from his lip.
    “A siren’s heart is very powerful. It bestows longevity, vitality. When a siren dies, her heart brings forth a healing spring from the roots of the earth that contains the powers of her heart. It is through my mother’s death that you have been healed, Conker.”
    “So you reckon I’ll live forever?” He chuckled.
    Jolie lowered the knife and took a step out to examine Conker’s haircut. She gave a satisfied nod and then grinned at Conker. “No,
Nascuits ai Élodie
can heal, but it does not bestow immortality. I would not be surprised, however—given how long you have stayed in the waters—if you live to a great old age.”
    Conker smiled a bitter smile as he brushed the loose hair from his shoulders. “I can only hope.”
    *   *   *
    Over the next few days, Jolie hunted deer and rabbit and all manner of birds and game. She skinned and cooked and fed the fire. Conker helped her some with the tasks, but mostly he ate.
    “You are putting on weight already,” Jolie said one afternoon after returning with an armful of wild turnips.
    “Ain’t got much of a choice with all your hunting,” he said.
    The following morning, Jolie emerged from the well to find Conker already awake and building up the cook fire. “It’s time to go,” he announced.
    “You feel strong enough?”
    “We’ll travel as far as I can, and stop to rest if I’m too tired. I’ve got to find the hammer.”
    Jolie took two bladders that she had been using for boiling water over to the well. She pulled back the bracken and submerged the bladders in the clear green spring, filling them with the well’s healing waters.
    “We have far to go,” she said over her shoulder. “But let us hope there will not come a time that we need to use these waters.”
    Conker nodded. Soon they left the overgrown marsh, passing from the protective barrier that guarded the spring, and began their journey east toward the Mississippi River.
    “You have pushed yourself too far,” Jolie said midafternoon. They had been walking all day and the weather was warm. Conker had stumbled many times on the rocky trail along the north side of the creek.
    “Just a little further.” Conker got up on one knee but collapsed back again, panting.
    Jolie sighed. “Rest, while I look for food.”
    Conker acceded with a frown.
    Jolie had not been gone for more than half an hour when she returned with a harvest of Indian cucumber, sheep sorrel, and a pheasant. Where was Conker? Looking around curiously, she began to call