The Silver Arrow

by Lev Grossman

“Herbert,” he said. “What the blazes is this?” He didn’t really say blazes, but you can’t put the word he did say in a book for children.

It occurred to her that this was a good practical application of something one of her heroes used to say, which is that sometimes it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.

“It’s magic!” Uncle Herbert yelled over the hissing of steam. “You didn’t think I got rich by working hard, did you?”

She was feeling something—a new feeling. Not even a feeling exactly, more like she wasn’t feeling a lot of things that she was used to feeling. She wasn’t tired, or bored, or frustrated, or wishing she was somewhere else doing something else. All that was cleared away. She still had basically no idea what was going on, but she knew she was free to be herself, right here, right now, in the moment. She couldn’t wait to find out what she was going to feel next.

Not solving problems was way easier than solving them, obviously. But left to their own devices, problems usually only got worse. Better to get it over with.

“Humans are animals,” Kate said a little defensively. “Of course you are,” the fishing cat said. “But you’ve spent so much time pretending you’re not, you’ve lost the knack.”

“Oh, that’s only the beginning!” the mamba said. “Mamba venom also causes dizziness, nausea, difficulty swallowing, heart palpitations, and convulsions! Though it’s true, it’s usually the suffocation that does them in.”

But she was just distracting herself. That was something the animals never did, she realized. People looked down on animals, but animals never made excuses or felt sorry for themselves. It would never occur to them. They always looked problems in the face.

When you’re a child the adult world looks so exciting, and it is, but it’s also so much sadder and more complicated than you expect. And you can’t just take the good parts, you have to take it all, even if it’s not what you wanted.

Some problems in this world just don’t have answers. Not yet.

“Don’t feel too bad about what humans have done,” the mamba said with a gentleness in his voice that she’d never quite heard before. “Feeling guilty doesn’t help anything anyway. Humans are animals doing what all animals do: surviving. It’s just that you’ve done it too well, so well that now you have to become a new kind of animal, one who makes sure that all the others survive, too.”

“Just promise me you won’t give up. The world has lost its old balance, but it’s not too late. It could still find a new one.”

Animals never think about what might have been, or what should have been. We only ever think about what really is.

“I’ll remember you, too, Kate. And I want to tell you something, just to make sure you know it, just in case your parents are too busy to remind you as often as they should: You are special, Kate. You are strong and smart and good, and the world needs you.”

You worked hard. You learned new things. You made mistakes and you owned up to them. You were uncomfortable and disappointed and discouraged and scared, but you never felt sorry for yourself and you never gave up. Those are some of the hardest things a person can ever do.

“But that’s how people get to do all that stuff, Kate. Anybody who’s ever done something really important got there by doing the things you’ve learned to do. And if you just keep doing them, you’ll accomplish amazing things too. Things you never would’ve dreamed you could do.”

If what Uncle Herbert had said was true, then technically it was still her birthday, she thought. Not her worst birthday after all, but her best. And definitely the longest.

“Even when you’re home, even when you’re standing still, going nowhere, you’re still traveling in time. For every second that goes by you’re traveling one second into the future. Every second of every day you’re going somewhere you’ve never been before. The adventure never ends!”

It was like the heron said: The old balance was gone—but it wasn’t too late to find a new one.