Page 103 of The Heart and the Hawthorn

‘Dian,’ she moaned.

‘Frida Rose,’ they breathed back into her mouth, catching her lower lip again in their teeth. ‘I’ve missed you.’ And then she was lost again, in the fullness of their lips, the hard pressure of their body against hers, the feeling of their strong, rough hands on her cheeks, as she kissed them again, and again, filling her soul with the heady taste of rain.

‘What should I call you?’ she finally managed, the velvet softness of the petals bringing to mind soft sheets under the moon. They pulled back just enough to see her face, plucking a rogue hawthorn blossom from her cheek, and flashing her a full, staggering smile: fairy charm turned up to a hundred. It made Frida think she was going to have to work hard to hold onto her wits. There was a wicked twinkle in their eye, full of possibilities.

‘Few people have known my name,’ they said, and the sudden vulnerability in their face almost broke Frida’s heart open anew. ‘Mush is the only one, now, I suppose. And she couldn’t wake me because, well . . . ’ Dian stared down at Frida, their eyes very round. ‘Because although Mush and I are bound together, and we love each other very much, that was not enough to call me back.’

Frida’s mouth had gone bone dry. ‘What was, then?’

Dian chewed on their lower lip, pulling the thorn of their piercing through their teeth. When they finally answered, it was the huskiest sound Frida had ever heard. ‘What do you think, Frida Rose?’

The way they said her name, as if she was the answer to everything, Frida almost melted. As it was, she flushed to the roots of her hair and, with a full, wild laugh, Dian pulled her up onto her feet. Approaching the hawthorn together, there was a look of awe on both their stunned faces. Eventually, after a few long moments, Dian placed their hands to the bark. The ribbons of brown and ebony, copper and silver, darkest blue and palest gold were so similar to the colours that stained Dian’s skin that Frida had to look hard to see where their fingers ended and the tree began.

‘Thank you, my friend,’ Dian whispered to the tree. Then, to Frida, ‘As to what name you should call me?’ they murmured, gazing up into the cascade of blossoms. ‘When we are alone, I would like it very much if you called me Ioelwsthyithuaawn.’

Their name was the sound of a warm westerly wind, rushing through the forest. It smelt of rain and the open ocean, and their smile was world changing. Frida’s heart became a gooey puddle, ice cream left out of the fridge on a sunny afternoon, and she was just trying to come up with an adequate answer – was there really any when a fairy looks at you like that? – when Dian got down on their heels and began to dig between the roots of the hawthorn tree.

Chapter Fifty-Six

Not too long later, they walked down the slope together, the wood coming alive around them. Frida sang as she walked, her strong voice mingling amongst the rest, finding its place. She realised she hadn’t sung in a long time. Dian hummed along too, tunelessly under their breath. It made Frida laugh, to think that there was at least something that Dian couldn’t do.

‘What?’ they asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Frida swung their hand, feeling ridiculously, wildly happy. ‘Oh nothing. I’m just marvelling over fairy perfection, that’s all.’

Mush snorted, eight eyeballs rolling. ‘I am concerned this human’s adoration is going to have a bad effect on your ego, Dian.’

Dian sighed. ‘Not with you around, Mushy my love.’ Then they tossed their hair, sending Mush – who’d been hanging from a thread off one of their curls – into a rapid spin, making the little spider shriek and giggle helplessly. Frida burst out laughing too. This wasn’t the time for hurrying, and although she wondered what was happening at the bottom of the hill, she let herself amble with Dian and Mush, down the slender pathways that opened up for them, marvelling at the hawthorns that had sprung up, bursting with bountiful splendour.

All is as it needs to be, the silver dragon had said, and no more, no less.

When they finally emerged though, they all fell utterly still.

Frida hadn’t known what she’d been expecting. Not this though.

Dian’s breath drew in sharply. ‘It’s her.’

Frida nodded, frantically trying to clear the flowery haze from her brain. ‘It’s her!’

Of course it was her.

The terracotta dragon stood in the middle of the greatest, weirdest, most impossible state of affairs she’d ever seen. Lucky, obviously, was right next to her. He stood oh so proudly at her side, his neck arched, unbalanced wings raised as if he’d just discovered his new status in life: Assistant to the Terracotta Dragon.

‘Look, little stink,’ he cried, bobbing his head dramatically. ‘IT’S STARTING! YOU’RE JUST IN TIME!’

Frida gave a half sob, half laugh. Indeed, it seemed that people were only just beginning to wake up, looking around themselves in wonderment. Frida’s heart overflowed as she watched Antony raise himself up onto his elbows. Next to him, Hamish lifted their face too, pale hair mussed, cheeks flushed with the memory of sleep. Antony’s gentle eyes shone. Frida pressed herself into Dian’s side, not quite able to hold herself steady, as her two best friends blinked the world into focus, before realising suddenly that their limbs were entwined. Frida held her breath, but instead of pulling away from each other, soft laughter escaped them both. Hamish sighed happily and leaned in to press their cheek against Antony’s chest.

Leaned in. Not away. Frida glanced at Dian – what love potion had they put in their spell? Cliff was sitting up too. There was a puddle of drool on the breast of his shirt, and his crystal blue eyes were brimming with astonished tears. Next to him, Gloria stretched like a languid cat in front of the fire. Sora gave a contented moan, Zuzka’s pink head swivelled, taking it all in. They were all covered in a carpet of hawthorn blossoms. And although the two dragons were barely twenty metres away, no one was screaming.

‘Why is no one screaming?’ Frida whispered to Dian, dumbfounded.

A knowing grin spread over Dian’s face as they gestured down the road, where the oaks curved away towards the rest of the zoo. ‘Look.’

Frida looked. And her jaw dropped.

Coming down the road towards them were people. Walking, wheeling, hobbling, arm in arm, hand in hand, side-by-side. Wearing LEZ uniforms of every colour, along with guests of every age and computation. A low dazed murmur of conversation purred through them as they gazed around in fear and amazement. As if they weren’t quite sure if they were still dreaming.

Slithering alongside, through the emerald shadows, were two excited-looking basilisks. A manticore, two very dignified griffins, the shimmering chimeras with their golden, tawny beards. Frida saw Raziel the ghost-lynx, and she wanted to race forwards and throw her arms around the bright Barbie-Dreamhouse-pink of her neck. There were the white wolves, bigger than elephants, yipping in greeting. Someone made up of white flowers with dark nooks for eyes where the owls nested seemed to slip, almost unmarked, through the gaps between things. And the storm monkeys. Oh skies, the storm monkeys! Zipping and front flipping and backflipping and all the flips. The Nuckelavee had to be around here somewhere too, and it might have been foolish, but this only made Frida smile wider. Somehow, the wards must have been totally dismantled. Frida didn’t even have to explain the problem to anyone: it was already done! She turned her gaze intuitively towards the awesome shape of the terracotta dragon. Whilst she’d been galivanting through time, it seemed the old dragon had been busy.