The Little Free Library at the End of the World

by Sally Sultzman

Reader didn’t know they’d stopped until he ran into the back of Singer, who turned to steady him even as Collector ran into him, struggling under the weight of the Collection bag.

What? Reader signed. Maybe it was water. They hadn’t found any fresh water in days—and Leader had said last night that no one could drink until Tracker found more, or they stopped for the night.

Even through the mask, with his ears shielding his eyes, Reader’s throat was heavy with dust. He, Singer and Collector were always at the back of the pack and he was so, so thirsty.

Don’t know, Singer signed back to both him and Collector.

But then Tracker came rushing up to them from the front, his eyes made extra big by the only pair of goggles the pack owned. Tracker had to have clear eyes to watch for tracks and traps—that was his job. But oh, how Reader wished Collector would find more goggles.

Reader, Tracker signed. Need Reader.

Reader’s ears quivered even as his stomach lurched. Yes, he was Reader but…

There hadn’t been anything to read in so long.

Too long?

Reader looked to Singer, who understood his worries without signs. They both followed Tracker to the front, Collector following behind, where Leader and Hunter were staring at—

At—

Reader’s mouth fell open as his eyes took in the tall, narrow boxes, the kinds they’d only seen inside the biggest boxes called “sub-di-visions” before. And then Reader’s gaze landed on…

A Board. With…

A Message! An actual Message!

Well? signed Leader.

Patience! Singer snapped back, slapping her foot for emphasis. Little whirlwinds of dust swirled up from the ground, making Leader and Hunter glare at her over their masks.No one wanted more dust in the air.

Then Singer turned back to Reader. Go on.

Even though Reader couldn’t see her nose or mouth, he could still see the comforting, warm smile in her eyes. Singer had always been there, smiling at him, for as long as he could remember. There was nothing before her. Nothing except… Words.

So he turned his attention back to the Board, which was stuck squarely in the ground with the boxes spread in a moon-curve behind it. He wanted to open the boxes, but he couldn’t—no one could—not until he knew what the Message said.

¢♣∞∞≤Θý♦∇ℵ  ∀∞⊕÷∞♣®

Fear curdled his guts, because they were words, weren’t they? But not like any words Reader had ever seen before. His ears drooped—his everything drooped.

Leader snapped in front of Reader’s face. What?

Singer batted Leader away. Wait! Then she nudged Reader’s face. Try again, she signed, eyes kind, the same eyes that had found Reader, had always found Reader.

Collector stepped up next to Reader, eyes bright with hope. Whatever was in those boxes, Collector wanted to see. You can!

Reader nodded. This was his job. Everyone had a job, had to have a job, and no one else could do his. And if he couldn’t…

He looked at Hunter, whose paw rested on his knife. Reader didn’t want to think what it would mean if he couldn’t read. Not for him, not for Singer.

So he looked at the words again, struggling to make out the letters. And as he stared, something strange happened.

The letters…shifted?

Reader stumbled back. The only reason he didn’t fall over was that Singer caught him. Everyone all signed, What? at once, but Reader couldn’t take his eyes off the Message.

At the words, becoming clearer with every second.

¢♣∞∞≤Θý♦∇ℵ  ∀∞ader!

Then…

¢♣∞etings,  Rea÷∞♣!

Reader blinked and suddenly—

Greetings, Reader!

Message change? Reader asked when Singer had him back on his feet.

The three of them looked at Reader like he’d eaten a bad mushroom on purpose, then at the sign, then back at Reader. They all shook their heads.

Swallowing hard, Reader got closer to the Board.

Greetings, Reader!

…the Message still said.

Greetings? Reader wondered. The letters he now knew, but the word? He did not. Still, he saw his name and understood it and knew that meant that he could still read, could still do his job.

It must have happened while he was blinking, because one moment, the Message said, Greetings, Reader! and the next?

Hello, Reader!

He pointed at Singer and Collector. Watch Message, he told them. Watch words. See if move.

Singer and Collector gave him a look but then fixed their gazes on the Message and he was happy for it.

Hello, Message, Reader signed back. I am Reader.

This time, when the words moved, they bloomed like tasty flowers across a valley floor.

Welcome to the Little Free Library! Take what you want, leave what 
you can!

Reader leaned into Singer’s side. Words change?

Singer shook her head no. Collector’s brow furrowed, but that was all.

And that’s when Reader began to wonder what kind of strange magic was happening here.

It felt like the Board was…waiting for him. So he carefully pieced his way through the storm of words. L i b r a r y ? he spelled out.

Library! A…

A pause, then more words.

A place where you can borrow books or other items!

A low throbbing began at the base of Reader’s head. He had not done this much reading in so long. B o r r o w ?

Maybe Reader was imagining things, but it felt like this Board, that was making Messages for him and him alone, was thinking.

To take a thing and bring it back when you are done with it. Take a book, read the book, bring it back so another can read it. Borrow!

Singer clutched at Reader’s arm. Moved! she signed. Bigger!

Reader nodded. It was a lot of words, but he understood them. And now he had a new one—borrow. And library.

Books in boxes? he signed, feeling hopeful. He wasn’t sure about how to bring a book back—he wasn’t Tracker and he had no idea where they were, much less if they’d ever come this way again.

But a Book of his own—not just a Message or a Mark, but one to study and read and carry?

Yes!

His hair stood on end, like the storm lights were close by.

And food! And water! Take what you need! It’s free!

Free? He’d seen that word before, but it didn’t make sense.

Nothing here did.

No cost! Take, no trade! Leave something if you want, but you don’t have to!

Legs going weak, Reader clutched Singer. Why? Why give free, no trade?

Another long pause. The sign was thinking. Reader was thinking, too—maybe this wasn’t real. Maybe he’d eaten the bad mushroom and was having a bad sleep. Maybe Hunter had hit him after all.

Maybe this was where Readers went when they died.

But then there was Singer’s warm paw against his flank and Collector leaning into him and he could feel her shaking—with happy?—and when he looked over at Leader and Hunter and even Tracker, they were staring at him with not-trusting eyes, unsure eyes, and Reader decided that if he were dead, he wouldn’t be so thirsty, so this must be real.

Finally, the Message said,

You will feel better if there is a trade, yes?

Reader nodded. The only thing that had ever been free in his entire life had been Singer’s love and even then, he’d given her all of that back in return.

How did you learn to read, Reader?

Reader swallowed hard, the dirt in his throat like a thick mud. Don’t know? When Singer found me, already Reader. Don’t remember anything before Singer.

He hadn’t even known he was Reader when Singer found him. He hadn’t known anything, except he was scared and hurt. But her kind smile and soft ears and gentle paws had let him trust her and she’d carried him along until his legs and feet worked again and then they’d come to a Board and he’d surprised everyone—himself too—by telling everyone what it’d meant. To this day, he still remembered that Message: Stop Ahead.

After that, he’d been Reader.

Any time he’d tried to think of the before, the dreams were big bad, so he’d stopped thinking about it.

Singer leaned her head against his shoulder. He knew she couldn’t understand what the Message said, but the story of how she found him was her favorite one to sing, and his favorite one to hear.

Ah

the Message spelled out and it almost felt like it was sad for Reader, when Reader wasn’t sad at all.

Can you write, Reader?

Reader stared at that word for a long, long time. W r i t e ?

Put your words onto paper, for other Readers to read?

Reader stared down at his paws. He could tie his mask and start a fire and turn pages, if he had pages to turn. But words were always on paper or Marks or Boards and all he did was explain them for the others. He didn’t have the magic to put words on paper himself.

Not yet, a little hope in his head whispered.

How? he signed.

The door of the farthest box opened. Everyone jumped back, even Reader. Collector fell over, and Singer rushed to help her up.

If you can write, the Message said, it will be a fair trade. Write your story, the story of your people, and leave it with me. Maybe, while you write, more of your people will become Readers, too!

Reader’s vision blurred with sudden tears that smelled of fear. But…Reader is my job?

It was as if the Board sighed, sad and hope all at once, even though the words did not move for a long moment.

Everyone can be a Reader,

spelled out the Message.

And many can be Writers. Maybe…

Reader’s head spun with the idea that everyone should be Readers. He’d only ever met one other reader, an old one in a pack they’d traded with. The old one had cried to meet him, signing that she wasn’t the only one left from before, whatever that meant.

The pack had offered to trade for Reader, since their Reader would be dead soon. And Leader had thought about it, but Singer had put her foot down. Reader was hers, had been ever since she’d found him, a small one alone, underneath a dead tree.

Maybe?

Maybe you should become Teacher.

T e a c h e r ? Another word Reader did not know.

Teacher

the Message said again.

I will help you learn to write, and you will help others to read. A trade.

Reader looked at Collector, who was being held back by Leader and Hunter so she couldn’t get to the open box.

Need see! Collector was furiously signing, while Tracker was tracking around the box, looking for traps and tricks.

The box didn’t look scary, except for the part where it opened by itself. Inside, Reader saw paper and long, thin sticks, but not the same sticks they used to make fires.

How long? Reader asked.

As long as it takes. I have food and water. You will be safe here.

More box doors opened. Singer, with her voice, cried out in surprise and then in happy—there were greens and water and good mushrooms in there, how were there such good things in these boxes?

Who? Reader signed, barely holding himself—and everyone else—back. His stomach was noisy with want. All of theirs were. Who are you?

You can call me the Librarian, Reader.

Reader guessed on his own. The one who knows the l i b r a r y?

Yes! Good!

Underneath his mask, Reader smiled. Maybe Librarian would be a good teacher. Maybe…maybe learning to be Writer would be a good thing?

Well? Leader demanded again, but this time, more worried. More nervous.

We can stay, Reader explained to the group. We can eat and drink, but I have to read—and learn more things. And we can all learn, too. Can we stay?

Tracker came back from his track around the first box and huddled up with Leader and Hunter and, for a moment, Reader wasn’t sure they’d say yes. But where would they go? The good mushrooms and water had been harder and harder to find and it’d been long moons since they’d had good greens, and there were fresh things right here and if they put up their tents just right, the dust wouldn’t be so bad and Reader could—

Reader could become something more.

Writer.

Teacher.

There’d never been anything more before, just walking and surviving and reading what needed reading and now—

The last box popped open while Leader, Hunter and Tracker talked with their eyes and Reader turned and saw—

Books. Big, skinny books—the kinds with pictures that everyone loved—and short, fat ones that even Reader struggled with, sheets of paper like Collector kept when they blew across the pack’s path, so much paper, and other small things that Collector liked, all of it waiting here for him—

Singer tapped Reader on the shoulder. Her eyes were still smiling. Look.

So Reader did. Leader, Hunter and Tracker had turned back to them.

We stay, Leader signed. Until no more good food, yes?

Reader almost jumped with joy. Yes! He nodded, ears flopping. Yes, stay!

He turned back to the Board, with the magical Message that was, somehow, the Librarian, to tell of the pack’s decision, but the sign already knew, because, Reader guessed, that was how magic worked.

Welcome home, Reader.

You’re finally where you belong.