And she stood, finally, at the edge of the woods, in the light.
Kate saw no sign of her sister.
It was then that the fear hit. The nightmare that had propelled her out of bed had long since faded, and the climb had been enough to keep her from thought, from worry. Now, as she looked into the vastness of trees — the forest she knew to go on much farther than the eye could see — she felt small, and alone. Nell could be anywhere, or nowhere. Kate might walk for days and miss her. She would be alone, just herself, in the endless woods. And then — Kate tried not to think it, but the thought came — Nell might not be Nell anymore. She might find — not Nell, but something else.
Kate clutched at a nearby trunk and tried to think. Susan would be calm. Max would have a plan. What did she have?
Nothing.
“Nell?” she called, her voice faint beneath the giant trees. “Nell?”
She took a step forward, into the woods. “Nell! I came for you!”
She couldn’t think of anything to do but call, so she did, over and over, until her voice failed her. At last she sat down, slumped on a mossy root, and let the tears blur the image of the trees and the silent, great, answerless forest.
And she heard someone.
Surely it was not Nell.
A desperate, soft mewling came from the hillside. Kate stood, shaking, and walked toward it.
Almost hidden by the growth, yards from where she had passed, climbing, her sister lay sprawled in the tall grass. Kate ran to her and turned her over.
“Nell? Nell!” She shook her.
Nell’s eyes were closed, her face tight and pasty. Mud stained her cheek, and Kate saw it in her nails, as if she’d been digging with her fingers, clawing at the earth. She whimpered — a strange, unfamiliar sound; Nell’s voice but not Nell’s voice, the familiar turned alien and awful, as if someone had lodged some pitiful animal in her throat.
“Nell! It’s me; it’s Kate! I’ve come to get you. It’s okay, Nell! Wake up!”
But Nell would not wake up. She shivered and twisted, eyes shut tight, the strange, broken animal noise shuddering from behind her closed lips, a ragged sound, dry as autumn leaves.
Susan, Kate thought. Help me! I can’t! I need you! She could not do it alone. Could not. Could not.
She took Nell by the shoulders, pulled at her, and Nell, limp, whimpered again. If she could only get her down the mountain, Kate thought, back to Susan, she would be all right. Susan would know how to fix her.
But as she pulled at Nell, dragging her a few feet down the slope, she felt the air change. Around her the mist gathered, and the breeze began to whisper words just on the edge of hearing, brushing past her like so many moths, weightless, repulsive.
Nell shrieked. Her body convulsed, jerking itself from Kate’s grasp, rolling into the grass, writhing. Kate ran to help her, but Nell flailed, the awful, half-mute wail sounding from her. Then she stopped and was still.
“Nell!”
Her sister was not breathing. Kate rolled her onto her back and saw the faint tinge of blue on her lips, her damp skin going waxy. Air! She needed air! From some long-dormant place, she recalled her father telling her about breathing, about pushing air into empty lungs and saving, saving —
Kate jerked Nell’s chin down and covered her sister’s open mouth with her own, blowing with all her might. Air. Air. Breathe!
Nell coughed and gasped, drawing breath, and around her, Kate saw again the mist, the hideous cloud come to attack. Nell could not be near the mist. It was hurting her, killing her!
With all her might, Kate jerked her sister up the slope, scrambling to get away from the vapor, even as it pursued them. Up! Up! she screamed in her head, wishing she could send Nell flying backward, far, far from the awful thing, the haze, with its whispering, terrible sounds.
“Susan!” she cried aloud. “Help me!”
And then Nell did seem lighter. Kate pulled at her with renewed strength. She could see she was outrunning the cloud now, nearing the tree line above. Susan! Kate thought with sudden joy. She’s come! She’s here! She’s helping me! She pulled Nell over the ridge of the mountain, reached the shadow of the trees, and looked back to see the mist disappearing over the edge, drawn back like a receding wave.
A tremor of relief shook her, and Kate looked around, trying to find Susan. Where was she?
“Susan?” she called. No one answered. She turned toward the woods, searching. “Susan!”
Nell whimpered and coughed on the ground.
“Susan!”
Someone answered then, but it was not Susan. It was a woman with coppery skin and straight dark hair pulled back in a braid, who emerged from behind a tree without a sound. She wore a patched and faded green dress with a large front pocket like the one Liyla had worn. The pocket bulged with rolls of papers, a spade, and a small rake. The woman looked from Kate to Nell, lying strangely there beside her on the moss.
“Child!” she said. Her voice shook. “You need help.”
It was not a question. But the woman waited, keeping her distance, until Kate nodded.
Despite the shock in her voice, in her eyes, she had the look of someone used to waiting. She glanced at the spot where the mist had slipped backward into the valley, took a breath, and turned back to look searchingly at Kate a moment, before dropping her eyes to Nell.
“Can you help her?” Kate asked. The quiet face leaned over her sister, and the woman rested the tips of her fingers on Nell’s cheek, brushed hair from Nell’s eyes. Nell no longer whimpered. She seemed asleep, but Kate feared she was more than that. Mutely, the woman nodded. She lifted Nell, stood, and turned to
