Mistle Child (Undertaken Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF

Peale.
    “Other times, when the burial plots were left lonesome too long, abandoned by the kin of the dead, them dogs took to wandering themselves. Who can say what they are, really. Mind you, I’m not sure they are truly dogs at all, but whatever they be, they have the know of a dog ,” she said. As if to put a period at the end of her story, the dog howled again somewhere down the Beacon. Mother Peale rose slowly from her seat.
    “Well, this evening’s chat and the night air have indeed cleared my head. I shall take my leave of you. I am ready for bed!” said Mother Peale. “Dear Mr. Umber, I wish you well upon your travels.” She hugged him quickly but hard, then began to slowly make her way down the hill, her lantern growing smaller and smaller in the distance.
    Silas was nervous now and kept looking back over his shoulder, but continued up the hill and easily found his father’s grave. The small mound had settled a lot already in the months since Amos Umber had been buried. Silas his put his hand upon it. The earth of the grave was cold.
    As much as he usually loved being on the Beacon, Silas now felt impatient. After his talk with Mother Peale, he was eager to set his feet forward on their road. He also sensed he was being watched. He looked around the hill, hoping to see the sexton, that kindly spirit who was often here keeping watch over his “flock.” But there was only the cold wind tearing dry leaves from the ground and casting them up into the sky. Then something else stirred the air. He paused, not sure he wanted to turn around. Silas could hear breathing, something or someone panting just behind him. He tightened his fists and whipped about. Sitting next to his father’s grave was the biggest dog he’d ever seen. Silas wasn’t sure what breed it was, maybe part Labrador, but it was shaggier, larger, and wilder. Its head was massive, and Silas could see that it would come up to his chest. There was a light in the dog’s eyes, and Silas was not at first sure whether he looked at an animal of this world or some other. The dog looked at Silas, its tongue lolling to one side. It was wagging its tail.
    “Good evening, hound of hell,” said Silas, trying to speak in a high, happy tone, though his heart was tight in his chest. “Are you a good puppy, or . . . something else?”
    The dog rose up on its massive paws and walked over to Silas, looking at him expectantly. Silas stepped back, feeling the earth shift below his feet. He reached behind him to steady himself on a tombstone, looking away for only an instant. When he looked again, the dog had vanished.
    Silas sat down hard on the ground next to his dad’s grave and remained there for many moments. It had been a long, strange night. His mind began to turn toward home. Mother Peale’s words and the dog’s appearance had shaken him, and now the whole evening, lighthouse and Beacon both, felt like one long troublesome dream. He didn’t like feeling anxious. He’d spent a lot of time in the last months trying to focus on his work, trying to take charge, trying not to remember how much he still had to learn.
    He put his hand on his dad’s gravestone and pulled himself up, then arched his back and stretched. Sleep was the only thing for it. He put his hand in his jacket pocket and grabbed the handful of grave earth in case he should meet the dog, or anything else on his way home.
    When Silas reached the bottom of the Beacon, he turned up Main Street. Nothing troubled his homeward journey. When he reached his front porch, he found a basket of eggs, several glass bottles of fresh milk, and a cheese—gifts from folks who had already heard, or sensed, that he had worked that night at the lighthouse, or perhaps from one of the families he’d helped earlier in the week. His heart was warmed momentarily by the kindness of these “payments.” But as Silas went to open the front door with his key, his eyes were held by the deeply engraved letters. He