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“Hans! Goodman Moller!” he called, breathless. Panicked. “Serilda!”
With a quick glance to the witch, Serilda lifted her heavy, wet skirts and climbed up the riverbank toward him. She didn’t relish the idea of having to explain such an early visit from the schoolmistress or why she was covered in river filth, but—what did it matter?—everyone already thought she was odd.
Thomas stopped his horse by the garden gate, but did not dismount. He cupped his hands together and yelled again. “Hans! Seril—”
“I’m here,” she said, startling him so badly he nearly toppled off his horse. “Father is still in Mondbrück.” She and Madam Sauer had thought it best to continue that lie. Soon, she would tell everyone that her father had gotten sick and she needed to travel to Mondbrück to care for him. From there, Madam Sauer would spread the rumor that he had died, and Serilda, in her grief, had decided to sell the mill and never return. “And Hans certainly isn’t here. Whatever is the matter?”
“Have you seen him?” Thomas asked, trotting the horse closer. By all accounts, it was almost unforgivably rude for him to stay perched on his horse staring down at her, but his expression was so harried, Serilda hardly noticed. “Have you seen Hans? Has he been here this morning?”
“No, of course not. Why would he—”
But Thomas was already yanking on the reins, swerving the horse around in the other direction.
“Wait!” Serilda cried. “Where are you going?”
“Into town. I have to find him.” His voice started to break.
Lurching forward, Serilda grabbed for the reins. “What’s going on?”
Thomas met her eyes and, to her astonishment, did not flinch away. “He’s gone. Went missing from his bed last night. If you see him—”
“Last night?” Serilda interrupted. “You don’t think …”
The haunted look that twisted his face was answer enough.
When children went missing on the night of a full moon, it was easy to guess what had become of them.
She set her jaw. “I’m coming with you. I can help look. Drop me off in town and I’ll go to the Weber farm to see if they’ve heard anything, and you can check with the twins.”
He nodded and lent his elbow as she leaped up into the saddle behind him.
“Serilda.”
She jolted. She’d almost forgotten about the witch.
“Madam Sauer!” exclaimed Thomas. “What are you doing here?”
“Consulting with my assistant over this week’s lessons,” she said quite easily, as if lying was not a punishable offense after all. In different times, Serilda might have pointed out her hypocrisy.
Madam Sauer fixed a stern gaze on Serilda, one that had often made her feel as if she were barely an inch tall. “You should not be riding.”
Serilda frowned. Riding. The horse?
“Why ever not?”
Madam Sauer opened her mouth, but hesitated. Then shook her head. “Just—be careful. Don’t do anything rash.”
Serilda exhaled. “I won’t,” she said.
Madam Sauer’s expression darkened.
Just one more lie.
Thomas dug his heels into the horse’s sides and they dashed off. He did as Serilda had suggested, dropping her off at the crossroads so that she could run the rest of the way to the Weber farm while he went to look for Hans at the twins’ home.
Serilda refused to think the impossible. Would the hunt have taken Hans to punish her? To send her a warning?
If the Erlking had taken him … if the hunt had done this and Hans was gone, killed or stolen behind the veil … then it was her fault.
