Bonus Scene
nancy & merrill (1941)
Nancy never would have found the door, if it weren't for the cat.
She had always been a quiet, demure girl, content to spend her time reading indoors rather than splashing through mud puddles or playing hopscotch on the sidewalk or climbing trees. Her favorite book of all was a collection of fairytales that had been given to her by her great-grandmother for her eleventh birthday. She would trace the illustrations of beautiful maidens and dashing princes with her finger and long for something more—though she was never quite sure what until the day she found the door in the woods.
She was fifteen at the time, all gangly limbs and knee dimples and deep brown eyes. Her ash-brown hair hung in a snarl of curls to her waist, which she usually kept twisted back into a braid.
She was sitting on the front porch on a balmy June afternoon, the first day of summer vacation, the days stretching ahead of her like a trail of bread crumbs, when she heard a sound in the garden. She lifted her head to see that her cat, a small, black creature with yellow eyes, had gotten ahold of an injured sparrow.
She closed her book and leapt up from the porch swing. “Oh, Sebastian, don't,” she cried.
But that cat ignored her as he always did, and when she gathered her tartan skirt and ran down the front steps to rescue the sparrow, he turned and disappeared into the neighboring forest.
Nancy followed close behind him, pushing aside tree branches and stumbling through bramble bushes in her haste. Twigs and leaves caught in her braid until she looked like a woodland creature from one of her fairytales.
She did not stop to think of how she might find her way back; her only thoughts were of the tiny, squawking sparrow.
Soon enough, she came upon a trail that had been worn into the earth. She followed it, and the cat, until the trail came to a sudden halt where a great, stone wall rose up out of the forest floor. And there, in the middle of the wall, was a door.
The door was carved from pale, grayish-brown wood the color of ashes, and it was tangled with thin wisps of ivy. It looked like it ought to have belonged to a church or a castle.
The black cat sat in front of the door, blinking up at Nancy with his great yellow eyes. The sparrow lay, dead, on the ground at his feet.
“Oh, Sebastian, you horrible thing!” she said, but she bent and scooped him into her arms anyway, cradling him against her chest. “Why did you do that?”
The cat head-butted her chin in response.
Nancy looked up at the door. There was something strange and other-worldly about it, and before she could stop to think what she was doing, she had reached out and grasped the handle in her fingers.
The door stuck, and she had to place her hip against the ancient wood and shove until it finally gave way with a groan. The smell of heather wafted out to greet her.
Nancy stood on the threshold for a moment, and her hold on the cat in her arms tightened until he leapt out a small yelp, because she was certain—quite certain—that she was looking in on another world.
The sky overhead was gray with streaks of lavender and plum, and a pair of twin suns blazed overhead. The forest had been replaced with craggy grassland, dappled with rock formations and purple shrubs, and far ahead of her, hills rose and fell in waves.
She took one step, and then another.
She began her descent over the sloping landscape, only looking back once over her shoulder to ensure that the door was still there. The tall, feathery grass tickled her ankles, and a dry breeze stirred wisps of hair that had come loose from her braid.
Nancy had only been walking for ten minutes when the cat suddenly leapt from her arms and took off through the grass towards a grove of crooked oak trees.
Once again, Nancy found herself chasing after him.
Her breathing was ragged by the time she finally caught up with him, and she was so distracted by a splitting cramp in her side that she almost didn't notice the girl sitting beneath one of the trees.
She had delicate, wheat-blonde hair that framed her face in gentle waves, and her eyes were a deep, rich brown the color of dark chocolate. A smattering of freckles trailed across her cheeks and down the bridge of her nose, and the ears that poked out from her hair were thin and pointed.
The cat trotted up to her, and the girl looked up from the book she was reading in surprise.
“Oh, hello,” she crooned, scratching behind one of the cat's ears. “Where did you come from?”
It was another moment before the girl noticed Nancy, and she lifted her head, her brown eyes growing wide.
“Hello,” she said. She had a soft, whimsical accent that Nancy couldn't place. “Does he belong to you?”
Nancy nodded her head, and then she swallowed and managed to say, “His name is Sebastian.”
“Hello, Sebastian,” the girl said. She looked back at Nancy, and for the first time, she seemed to really see her. She seemed particularly entranced by Nancy's ears. “You—you came through the door, didn't you? From another world?”
Nancy nodded her head again.
“I've only heard stories of other worlds, but I never thought . . .” she trailed off, shaking her head. Then she closed the book in her lap and stood up, brushing off her linen dress. “I'm sorry, I'm forgetting my manners. My name is Merrill.” She offered Nancy her hand.
“Nancy.” The girl's fingers were soft in her own. Then she asked, “Where am I?”
Merrill gave a short, gentle laugh that sent goosebumps breaking out across Nancy's arms. “The Morrowlands.”
“The Morrowlands,” Nancy repeated quietly. “So it really is another world then.” Her legs gave out beneath her, and she plopped down in the grass in astonishment. She blinked at her hands until the cat wandered over and nuzzled against her.
Then a hand came into view, and Nancy looked up at the girl.
There was a tentative smile at the corner of her lip. “Come on,” she said. “I'll show you around.”
Nancy took Merrill's hand, and the girl pulled her to her feet. Nancy dropped her hand so quickly someone watching might have thought it had caught fire. A heavy flush rose to her cheeks.
“I should go back,” Nancy blurted. “My mother will be looking for me.”
“Perhaps you should,” Merrill answered. “But there's never any fun in doing what you should.”
Merrill gave Nancy's hand a light tug, and the next thing she knew, Nancy was stumbling after her down the hill . . .
The Morrowlands