His brows knit. “If you want to worry about something, I don’t think it should be about whether you owe your existence to God or the Word or whoever. I think you should worry about what’s expected of you now that you’re here and how you’re going to keep from being a major disappointment.”
She shook her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Just this. Everything that exists has a counterpart. The Word is only half of the equation, Nest. The Void is the other half. The Word and the Void-one a creator, one a destroyer, one good, one evil. They’re engaged in a war and they’ve been fighting it since the beginning of time. One seeks to maintain life’s balance; the other seeks to upset it. We’re all a part of that struggle because what’s at risk is our own lives. The balance isn’t just out there in the world around us; it’s inside us as well. And the good that’s the Word and the evil that’s the Void is inside us, too. Inside us, each working to gain the upper hand over the other, each working to find a way to overcome the other.”
He paused, studying her. “You already understand that you aren’t like most people. You’re special. You have one foot firmly planted in each of two worlds, forest creature and human. There’re not many like you. Like I’ve said, there’s a reason for this, just like there’s a reason for everything. Don’t you think for a minute that the Void doesn’t realize this. You have a presence and a power. You have a purpose. The Void would like to see all that turned to his use. You may think you are a good person and that nothing could change that. But you haven’t been tested yet. Not really. You haven’t been exposed to the things in life that might change you into something you wouldn’t even recognize. Sooner or later, that’s going to happen. Maybe sooner, given the amount of unrest among the feeders. Something is going on, Nest. You better concentrate your concerns on that. You better be on your guard.”
There was a long silence when he finished as she digested the implications of his admonition. He stood rigid in her hand, arms folded across his wooden chest, mouth set in a tight line, eyes bright with challenge. He was trying to tell her something, she realized suddenly. His words had more than one meaning; his warning was about something else. A sense of uneasiness crept through her, a shadow of deep uncertainty. She found herself thinking back on the past few days, on Ben-nett Scott’s rescue from the cliffs, on the maentwrog’s emergence from its prison, and on the increased presence and boldness of the feeders. Did it have to do with these?
What was Pick trying to say?
She knew she would not find out today. She had seen that look on his face before, stubborn and irascible. He was done talking.
She felt suddenly drained and worn. She lowered Pick to the ground, waited impatiently for him to step out of her hand, and then stood up again. “I’m going home after all,” she told him. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Without waiting for his reply, she turned and walked off into the trees.
She didn’t go home, however. Instead, she walked through the park, angling down off the heights to the bayou’s edge and following the riverbank west. She took her time, letting her emotions settle, giving herself a chance to think through the things that were bothering her. She could put a voice to some of them, but not yet to all. What troubled her was a combination of what had already come about and what she sensed was yet to happen. The latter was not a premonition exactly-more an unpleasant whisper of possibility. The day was hot and still, and the sun beat down out of the cloudless sky on its slow passage west. The park was silent and empty-feeling, and even the voices of the picnickers seemed distant and subdued. As if everyone was waiting for what she anticipated. As if everyone knew it was coming.
She passed below the toboggan slide and above a pair of young boys fishing off the bank by the skating shelter. She glanced up the long, straight, wooden sluice to the tower where the sledders began their runs in winter, remembering the feeling of shooting down toward the frozen river, gathering speed for the launch onto the ice. Inside she felt as if it were happening to her now in another way, as if she were racing toward something vast and broad and slick, and that once she, reached it she would be out of control.