The stones reappeared, taking Peter by surprise. He tumbled across a bed of moss, landing with his legs above his head against one of the standing stones.
He was greeted with a burst of girlish laughter.
Peter righted himself and the world around him righted itself as well, only
There was so much to see he didn’t know where to look first. Broad, knobby tree trunks twisted their way upward into a canopy of vivid, colorful leaves, their branches—dripping with vines, flowers, and fruit—reached out, intertwining with one another. Warm, glowing rays of sunlight pushed through the treetops, setting the thin ground mist aglow. Chunky, gnarled roots crawled through the tangled undergrowth, and giant mushrooms poked their speckled heads up from the lush moss and grass. Wild flowers of every shape and variety dotted the trees, vines, and bushes, each seemed to be trying to outdo the next in color and brilliance. But the foliage wasn’t what held him spellbound, it was the little people, dozens upon dozens of them. Some barely the size of bees, others as large as cats. Most had wings: bird wings, insect wings, butterfly wings, bat wings. Naked creatures of every imaginable color, some spotted or striped. They buzzed and hummed, giggled and chirped. A thousand little songs forming a gleeful symphony as they chased one another about the small clearing and danced in and out of the beams of sunlight.
The girls were waiting for him along a thin, winding trail. He stepped out of the circle and was struck by the smells; a thousand fragrances perfumed the air. He inhaled deeply, letting the sweet air fill his lungs.
A host of the wee folk flew past his head, then began to circle him, fluffing his hair, plucking at his wolf pelt, the soft humming of their wings tickling him. Peter began to giggle. “Cut it out,” he laughed, and tried to shoo them away.
Someone swatted him on the shoulder.
Peter turned around.
“You’re it!” cried one of the girls, and all three of them skipped away down the path in a gale of laughter.
Peter grinned, couldn’t stop grinning. He gave chase, the swarm of little people fluttering along after him.
The trail wove its way down a gradual slope and the forest began to change. The ground beneath his feet became damp, then marshy. Peter splashed across a muddy creek, then skirted around several weedy bogs. Squat, twisted trees grew up from murky, misty pools, their bark slick, black, and oily, thick moss dripping from their branches. The dim light filtering through their brown, yellowy leaves cast everything in a shadowy amber glow. The delicate scents of flowers and berries were replaced by the sweet, spicy smell of fluff-mud, and the playful birdcalls with croaks and deep bellows.
Peter stopped. He’d lost any sign of the girls. He noticed the little flying people were no longer following him and realized he was alone. Something splashed nearby and Peter jumped. He decided he must’ve gone the wrong way and started to retrace his steps.
There they were—the three girls, as though they’d materialized out of the musky air. They stood in front of the cascading leaves of a huge weeping willow, just staring at him, their faces somber.
“Where’d you go—” he began, then caught movement behind them. Someone was with them.
The shadowy shape of a woman slipped out from the curtain of leaves.
Peter stepped back, his hand dropping to the hilt of his knife. “A grownup!” he hissed.
She was stout but curvy, wide through the hips and thighs. The light danced across her face, revealing smoky, heavy eyelids and luminous, swamp-green eyes.
Peter started to run when she called his name, her voice throaty, barely more than a whisper. Yet he heard her well, as though she were beside him. He hesitated.
“You’re most welcome here, sweet boy.” Her deep, rich voice blanketed him, comforting, soothing, chasing away his fears.
She stepped forward into a soft ray of sunlight, the light glittering off her dark, oily skin. Peter looked closer. Her skin was actually green, the deep dark emerald of evergreen leaves. Her hair was green as well, a darker shade, almost black. It flowed from beneath a skull cap drawn forward into a widow’s peak across her forehead. The twisting weaves of hair snaked down almost to her knees and draped across her face like a hood, keeping all but her large eyes in shadow. Her thin, smoky robe clung to her like a spider web, dripping from her in ropy strings, doing little to cover her full breasts and the shadowy tuft between her legs. Bronze bracelets jangled from her wrists and ankles, and a necklace of bone and claws hung about her neck.
She smiled at Peter, strolled over to him, and slid an arm around his shoulders. Her breath was hot, it smelled of honey, and when he inhaled, he felt a drowsy warmth take him.
“Won’t you come in?” She gestured to a round hole dug into an embankment beneath a thick overhang of straw and matted moss. Large, pitted stones circled the entrance, each with the face of a brooding beast carved into its surface. Dozens of dried gourds hung around the opening, painted red, with bird-size holes cut into them. Small black bat-winged, men-shaped creatures with long scorpion tails were perched or zipping in and out of them.
It didn’t look like any place Peter wanted to go. He shook his head.
“I have fresh-baked gingerbread. All little boys like gingerbread. Don’t they?”
The three girls nodded. “Most certainly they do, Mother.”
The woman put her full, wet lips to his ear, whispered to him. The words were all gibberish to Peter, a strange song of curt, cutting sounds, but the smell of baking bread and honey suddenly came alive. Peter’s stomach growled and his mouth moistened. He licked his lips. He would really like some gingerbread—whatever that was.
“Come along,” she murmured and ducked into the hole.
Peter didn’t think it would be a good idea to follow the woman into that hole, didn’t think it would be a good idea to follow her anywhere, but his mind felt syrupy and slow, and when the three girls took his hands and pulled him along, he followed.
He stooped to avoid bumping the roots and glowing mushrooms as he stumbled drunkenly down the long burrow. The tunnel opened up into a small cavern of black rock and twisting roots. Amber stones burned beneath a stack of branches in a wide earthen fireplace, bathing the cavern in their soft caramel glow.
Peter’s foot caught on a hide and he fell sprawling atop a pile of plush furs.
Bones, feathers, beads, dried flowers, and a variety of animal skulls were strung together and dangled from the ceiling on long cords. Fat black toads, great oily beetles, and colorful birds hung upside down from hooks, staring at him with dead, glassy eyes. Scrolls and clay pots lay scattered about on low-lying tables.
Peter caught movement among the crags and crevasses of the cavern, thought he saw shapes crawling within the shadows. Then he spied the pile of little cakes stacked in a clay bowl and could think of little else.
She crawled across the furs, carrying the bowl, sidling up next to him. She slid a bare leg over him and put a cake to his lips. Peter took a bite.
It was sweet and warm, but oddly gooey in the middle. He ate it anyway, then another, wanted more, but was having trouble chewing, having trouble keeping his head up. The room was growing fuzzy, wobbling somehow, like ripples across a pond. One moment he saw dozens of shiny candles flickering down at him, then he’d blink and in their stead would be eyes, hundreds of slanted yellow eyes.
She straddled him, leaning forward, letting her hair drape across his face. She placed a warm hand on his stomach, running her fingers up his chest, pushing the wolf pelt aside. She bent over and sniffed his hair, her breasts sliding along his bare chest as she sniffed his face, down his neck, then pressed her cheek against his chest. He felt the hot wetness of her mouth on his nipple.
Peter felt his loins stir. He saw the three sisters behind the woman, watching, their eyes wide, feverous, drool running shamelessly down their chins.
“My, he is a firm one,” whispered the first.
“Rigid as a tent post,” chimed in the second.
“We will feed a long time on this one,” added the third and all three giggled.
