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So perhaps it is as well you do not know now just where Helma's little house is standing deep in the wood under the snow. Ivra always said that the nicest thing about the stories was the interruptions. Helma never minded them, and she answered all the questions Ivra asked.
The starlight showed, strangely, a narrow door in the trunk. Ivra pushed it open and Eric followed in after her, wondering at going into a tree. They were on a flight of stairs lighted by starlight from a window somewhere high up. At the head of the flight they came to a door, and through the crack beneath it streamed a warmer light than starlight.
It was plain to be seen, when she joined them, that she carried something in her arms very secretly under her white cloak. But no one mentioned it. Ivra knew it must be a surprise for her birthday. Where the party was to be no one told her, and she did not ask. She liked surprises. They came to the Forest Children's little moss village.
So he drank a long drink of the cold, delicious water, ducked his head, and finally washed his face. Then he waded on with no purpose in mind now but just to keep his feet in the water. It was so he came to the deepest place; where not even Ivra had ever been. It was almost cool there, and more like twilight than early afternoon.
It hopped onto her finger eagerly, and she held its bill so that it would not sing. Eric opened the window. "I'll jump first," he whispered. But Ivra said, "Oh, let's hold hands and jump together." The Beautiful Wicked Witch felt the cold night air from the window on her face, and stirred in her sleep. Her eyelids quivered. So the children did not wait a minute more.
She took his hand and said, "The sheep are inside your own head. Just shut your eyes and try to see them. It is very easy. The wall is low, and there's a place where the stones are beginning to roll down. The sheep go over there, one by one." Eric shut his eyes and put his head down on the Tree Man's knee. And it began to happen just as Ivra had said.
Eric's wavered a little uncertainly, as though he doubted whether Helma knew it well enough to answer. "Helma, Helma, Helma! Ohh Helma! Helmaa-a!" No Helma answered. Sometimes a Forest Child came running to say, "We haven't seen her yet, Ivra. But we are watching." The Bird Fairies fluttered at the call and nodded their little heads uneasily.
They had not bathed in the "bird bath" since Helma had gone away. They never seemed to have time, or else they were too sleepy. Now they no more thought of baths than they thought of breakfast. Eric followed Ivra, who knew all the ways in the forest, to the spot where Wild Star was most likely to be, if he was to be found at all on such a windy, perfect day.
The new strong sandals on his feet he had made himself. His cap was new, too, and Helma had stuck two new little brown feathers in it as in the old one; so he still had a look of flying. There was really nothing to delay his departure further. Helma called to Ivra, and she came out slowly. There was no need to explain things to her, for she had heard everything.
Ordinary people are afraid of them and stay indoors when they're about. Their streaming white hair has a way of lashing your face as they rush by, and then they never look where they're going. They care nothing about running into you and knocking the breath out of you. Then, they're so cruel to children!" "But Ivra isn't afraid of them!" wondered Eric. "Not she," said the old woman.
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