The Widder Woman

  The Widder Woman

  By Elizabeth Baxter

  Copyright © 2013 Elizabeth Baxter

  The Widder Woman

  “Come here, child,” said the widder woman.

  Toomi stared out of the window and pretended not to hear.

  Leave me alone you old hag.

  It was raining again. White mist crept slowly across the lake. Dark, angry clouds obscured the sky. The two parts of her world, lake and sky, seemed to withdraw, leaving her lonely and afraid.

  Stare out the window, Toomi thought, and pretend last night never happened.

  The floorboards creaked as the widder woman moved to stand behind her.

  Don’t look. It’s not her. It’s father come to check you’re awake. Mother is over by the fire stirring a pot of porridge for breakfast. Sanni is sitting on her bed playing with that doll father carved for her last spring.

  The widder woman’s hand settled on Toomi’s shoulder. The cold of it seeped through her nightdress, sending goose bumps up her skin.

  The lake was cold like that, Toomi thought, when they threw me in on my drowning night.

  Toomi glanced up. The widder woman’s eyes were bright blue, the color of the sky when the sun shone. Tangled hair like bladder weed framed a face of wrinkles. Toomi had never seen somebody so old.

  “I know you hurt, child. What can I do for you?”

  Toomi pushed the age-spotted hand away and scuttled backwards until her back pressed against the rough boards of the hut wall. She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them.

  The widder woman turned and shuffled away. “There is stew in the pot. I will be on the shore when you are ready.”

  The door banged shut.

  “I won’t come out! I’ll stay in here until you send me back!” Toomi bellowed. “And if not, I’ll stay in here forever!”

  Oh, didn’t she just sound like Sanni when she was throwing one of her tantrums! But Sanni was only six and was allowed the temper fits that a twelve year old girl should have left behind long ago.

  Slowly, Toomi uncurled her legs and placed her feet on the wooden floor. The hut was not constructed as well as her family’s and Toomi glimpsed the lake through gaps where the floorboards didn’t fit properly. The familiar slop and gurgle as the lake brushed against the stilts was strangely comforting.

  At least you don’t change, Lake. And you, Sky, you will always be here won’t you?

  Always, the sky seemed to whisper in response.

  Toomi had always been told that the Lake was mother to her people and the Sky their father. And when his people were in need, Father Sky sent his guardians, the Sky Folk, to care for them.

  But where are you now? Toomi thought. When I really need a guardian?

  She had seen the Sky Folk once, Toomi was sure. Countless bright shapes, moving against the sky. She dreamed she was one of them and all the sky was her domain. But that was a long time ago, and now she belonged to Mother Lake instead.

  Toomi stomped over to the fireplace. The stew in the cauldron had been meant for last night’s supper, Toomi’s first meal in the widder woman’s house. It was supposed to be an occasion of great honor, the occasion when her parents handed her over to the widder woman and she went to fulfill her destiny. But she had been too distraught to eat. She vaguely remembered screaming at someone—the widder woman?—and trying to kick over the enormous cooking pot. There had been nothing grand or honorable about the occasion at all.

  Toomi was ravenous. Picking up a wooden spoon, she stirred the congealed slop and shoveled it into her mouth in great big messy spoonfuls. A short time later, she scraped the last bit off the bottom and licked her fingers. When she’d finished she sat on the bed and stared out the window once more.

  I’m not coming out! I’m going to sit here all day, you just see if I don’t!

  But sitting here was boring. Through the window she could see that the rain had blown through like it often did in summer, and now the sky was clear and sparkling. The lake looked like polished glass. With a little cry of exasperation, she threw herself off the bed, pushed the door open and stood blinking in the sunshine. The widder woman was nowhere in sight.

  She seated herself cross-legged on the shore and gazed out over the water. To either side the lake stretched out impossibly far, further than Toomi could see. For all she knew, it might go on forever. But directly opposite Toomi the lake was narrower and, if she squinted, Toomi could just make out the shadow of her village on the other side.

  The fisher boats would already be out, Toomi knew. Her father would be among them, hauling nets with those strong, sun-darkened arms of his. He’d likely be sharing a joke with his crew because that’s the sort of man he was. He laughed and smiled and crinkled his eyes up when he was happy.

  Mother would be with the other women down on the shore. They’d be collecting shellfish from the shallows and underneath rocks. Or sitting up on the strand mending nets and singing songs that their mothers had taught them. And Sanni? She would be causing mayhem no doubt. Tearing through the village, throwing herself from the jetty with the other children or bothering the women with her chatter.

  A tranquil life. Although, today perhaps not quite so tranquil. Perhaps today her father’s smile would falter. Perhaps her mother’s singing would stutter and her eyes lift to look out over the water. And perhaps Sanni would skid to a stop and glance around, wondering where her big sister had gone.

  A voice spoke suddenly in her head. You were marked for us from the beginning.

  Toomi’s eyes snapped to the lake’s surface. “Shut up. I don’t want to talk to you.”

  We would welcome you, if you would let us.

  She hated that voice. The first time she had heard it, she had been five years old and drowning.

  There had been three of them: Toomi; Jalli, the smoker’s son; and Turli, the headsman’s niece, all deemed ready for their drowning by the elders. She’d been woken at dawn by her mother, who’d stripped her naked and led her to the boat where the others waited. Her father was there and he crouched down in front of her in the darkness and folded her in his strong arms. He didn’t say anything but pressed a small silver coin into her hand. A good luck charm for her drowning night. Her parents had watched as the boat glided out of sight of the village.

  It was dark and cold and scary. She knew she had to be brave. But she was terrified. The boatman rowed them out until all Toomi could see was black water.

  Then he’d overturned the boat.

  Toomi had gasped at the sudden shock of the cold, cold lake. She choked on water, breathed it into her lungs. Sank. Down, down into the darkness she went. Mother Lake swallowed her. She tried to kick but couldn’t, tried to move her arms but they wouldn’t. Something had a hold of her legs and was pulling her down, down. There was a roaring in her ears and lights before her eyes that dimmed, slowly dimmed…

  Then sudden pain in the sides of her neck and she could breathe again.

  The grip on her legs disappeared and Toomi floated motionless in the water, marveling at how she was still alive. The water didn’t seem so dark anymore, nor so scary. Then, from deep below, she had heard the widders speak.

  You are ours now. One day she will come for you.

  And that had frightened her all over again. She had kicked up to the surface and swam for her life. When she made it back to shore she found that the others had returned before her. By then the gills in her neck had closed again but the marks were there for all to see, the gill-marks that showed Mother Lake had claimed her.

  It was a great honor, her father had said, to be chosen to be the next widder woman. But Toomi couldn’t help wishing that the honor had gone to somebody else.

  Toomi snatched up a rock and
hurled it into the lake. “Go away! I hate you!”

  The voice went quiet. The only sound was the waves lapping against the shore. Toomi sighed, propped her chin on her hand and stared out over the water. The lake and the sky. Her world. Slowly her vision blurred, wavered. Then she saw it. That glowing, infinitesimal boundary where Mother Lake met Father Sky.

  Ha! You see it don’t you? Where our two worlds join? You will make a perfect widder woman!

  Toomi squealed in exasperation. “I said go away! I’m not talking to you!”

  She folded her arms and looked away. She felt tears gathering in her eyes and dashed them away angrily. Hadn’t she worked hard to fit in? To be no different to the other children, despite what had happened on her drowning night? Hadn’t she cowered in terror with the rest of the children as they listened to elders’ tales of the Deeps and the terrible, vengeful widders who lived there?

  “Never dive too deep,” the elders would warn in their most menacing voices. “Never dive out of sight of the sky because this is where the widders dwell and they will eat you if they can.”

  And Toomi would nod, wide-eyed with the rest, even though she knew the tales were not quite true, that the widders were something else, even though she couldn’t quite explain what that was.

  There was a ripple out on the lake and the widder woman’s head broke the surface. She swam to the shore and clambered out, water streaming off her clothes. Yet by the time she reached Toomi, she was dry, not even wet footprints left behind on the shingle.

  Toomi looked up, squinting against the glare of the sun. The widder woman hiked her shawl up around her head, but before she did so, Toomi caught sight of the long gills in the widder woman’s neck slowly closing.

  “You said you’d be on the shore,” Toomi snapped. “When I came out you weren’t here.”

  The widder woman slowly lowered herself onto the shingle. “And you said you were never coming out of the house.”

  Toomi hesitated. The old woman had a point there. “I got bored.”

  To Toomi’s surprise, the widder woman burst out laughing. It was a rich sound, like waves lapping under the house at night.

  Toomi tried to scowl but a traitorous smile quirked her lips. “I ate all your stew.”

  The widder woman’s eyebrows rose in mock surprise. “Did you now? There was enough in there for three people! And here’s me thinking you were such a dainty little thing.”

  Toomi snorted. “Hardly. Sanni was always the dainty one with her pretty smile that made everyone give her exactly what she wanted.” She fell silent, staring out at the distant village, no more than a hazy blot on the far shore.

  “The widders are glad you have come.”

  Toomi didn’t say anything for a long time. She picked up a handful of pebbles and began tossing them into the lake where they disappeared with a plop. “Is my grandmother down there?” Toomi asked, looking up into the widder woman’s eyes. “Is she down there with them?”

  “They are all down there,” the widder woman answered gently.

  “Can I… can I see her?”

  “Not yet. You have much to learn before you are ready.”

  “Such as?”

  “Everything.”

  Toomi stood and faced the widder woman. “Come on then,” she challenged. “What are we waiting for?”

  The widder woman seemed to be stifling a smile. Without a word, she climbed to her feet and began shuffling along the shore. Toomi followed a step behind. The shingle shifted under Toomi’s feet and she found herself scrambling to keep her footing. Much to her annoyance, the widder woman glided over the pebbles, moving not a single one out of place.

  Soon they were out of sight of the house. Here, forest came almost down to the water’s edge. Peeking between the shadowy branches, Toomi shuddered. How could anything live in such a place? A place where arms closed in around you and sometimes you couldn’t see the sky at all? She had only been into the forest once and that had been when she had been trying to scare Sanni. In the end, it had ended up scaring Toomi so badly she had never gone back. So much for brave older sisters.

  The widder woman moved down to the lake’s edge. Here the shore was dotted with boulders, green and slimy with some kind of weed. The widder woman bent, ran her hand down such a green smear and daintily licked the stuff off her hand.

  Toomi’s lip curled in disgust.

  The widder woman nodded. “We’ll start here. This is skyweed. We must harvest it every day to keep the widders well fed.”

  Toomi looked skeptically at the green weed. It didn’t appear particularly appetizing or nutritious to her. “You want me to gather this stuff?” Without waiting for an answer, she approached a boulder and reached down.

  The widder woman’s gnarled hand snapped about her wrist, sending a jolt of cold through Toomi’s body.

  “Wait,” the widder woman said, pulling Toomi away. “The leaves are no good. We need the bulbs.” She nodded towards the lake. “Out there.”

  Toomi followed the widder woman’s gaze. The water looked green and uninviting. Toomi saw the tops of weeds moving around with the tide, making the lake seem a thick, gloopy soup.

  Where’s the blue lake gone? Toomi thought. The one that sparkles when you sit dangling your legs over the jetty?

  The widder woman waded out into the lake, stopping about ten meters from the shore. From somewhere in the folds of her clothes she produced a short handled knife.

  “Follow the stem down to the lake bed, dig your knife in and harvest the bulb.”

  With the ease of someone who had done this countless times before, the widder woman plunged her hands into the lake and emerged with a dripping white bulb in one hand which she tossed onto the shore.

  Gingerly Toomi approached the water. She dipped in a toe then pulled it back again with a strangled cry.

  It was cold! Cold like the sun never shone on it!

  The widder woman was watching her expectantly.

  Frowning in concentration, Toomi waded into the shallows. Cold lit her skin. Slime squelched between her toes. The weeds brushed across her legs and Toomi bit her lip to keep from screaming. She edged her way out until she was standing up to her knees.

  The widder woman produced another knife and handed it to Toomi, her eyes glittering with amusement.

  Toomi snatched the knife and sank her hands into the soupy water. Her fingers brushed against something slimy, like a worm. Gritting her teeth against the horrible sensation, she grabbed it with both hands and followed it downwards until the tips of her fingers dug into the silt of the lakebed. Then she dug in the knife and wiggled it about until it cut into something hard. Grunting, she dug in further and the bulb came free.

  Toomi raised the bulb up above her head, glaring defiantly at the widder woman.

  “Good. Carry on.”

  “But this is a waste of time!” Toomi cried. “How is digging up these horrid stinking things helping me learn to be a widder woman?”

  The widder woman had that look on her face that said she wouldn’t be argued with. It was the same one her mother used when she or Sanni were pushing their luck. That expression, it seemed, was universal among women.

  “Fine!” Toomi hurled the bulb onto the shore so hard that it struck a boulder and exploded into a shower of pulpy white mess.

  The widder woman’s mouth set into a tight, flat line. Saying nothing, she turned and shuffled away.

  ***

  Summer heat settled in, causing the lake to shrink in its bed and turning the sky into a thick blue blanket that threatened to stifle everything. For more than a week Toomi went about her chores: milking the goat, feeding the chickens, harvesting those horrible skyweed bulbs and mashing them into a paste for whatever ghastly use the widder woman had in mind.

  She just wants a helper, Toomi thought to herself. And that’s not so bad is it? She just needs someone to cook and clean whilst she’s busy with the widders. That’s all. Maybe when I've done all my chores she’ll
let me go home and visit my family. Yes, she’ll do that! But one morning whilst Toomi was clearing away the breakfast plates, the widder woman said, “I want you to come into the lake with me today, Toomi. It is time you learned how to tend the widders.”

  Toomi froze. Then continued putting away the plates as if she hadn’t heard. But the widder woman strapped a basket of skyweed to her back, took Toomi’s hand and led her down to the lake shore.

  Once on the shore, the widder woman backed into the lake until the water was lapping around her hips. She stared at Toomi the whole time.

  Toomi thought about running away. She thought about throwing a tantrum. She thought about sitting herself down on the shore and refusing to budge.

  But she didn’t. She had a duty now, to her father, her mother, her people. She took a step towards the lake. And another. And now the water was around her ankles, then her shins.

  Two, three, four more strides and it was lapping around her neck. Instinctively Toomi held her breath, feeling her lungs expand. But then the pressure slackened and a sharp pain pierced the sides of her neck as her gills opened for the second time in her life.

  She whimpered. No. Please.

  And then she was underwater.

  She could breathe. She could see. And the terrible cold had been replaced by a gentle heat that lit her flesh from scalp to toes. She found herself in a world of gold and green. The water shimmered like sunlight through leaves.

  With a wave of her hand, the widder woman indicated for Toomi to follow as she set off into the depths of the lake.

  Perhaps a hundred meters from the shore the lake bed suddenly dropped away, opening out into a deep, wide ravine that ran the length of the lake.

  The Deeps.

  All of Toomi’s childhood fears came clawing to the surface. This was the home of the widders, where they dragged down naughty children to drown and devour them. Even in her scariest nightmares, Toomi had never dreamed she would be heading to such a place.

  A forest of kelp came into view, waving gently in the current. Toomi saw objects tied to the kelp stems. From a distance, they looked like formless white blobs but as Toomi drew closer those blobs slowly took shape. With a shudder she realized they were white, bloated corpses.