He had to find Osmund.
Elric looked down at the glowing amulet in his hand. It was already beginning to fade. He didn’t have much time. Looping it over his neck, he turned around in the circle, unsure of which way to go. Last time, Mildred had led him through the woods. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the moment exactly. She had hopped over a stone with a cracked top. He found the stone and set off at a run through the woods.
His feet seemed to fly over the ground as his desperation drove him through the forest. He came to a bank and climbed it. There he found the felled tree where he had met Osmund in these woods. There was significantly less of it than the last time he had seen it. Osmund’s woodcutter’s ax was lodged firmly in the heavy trunk.
Elric followed a narrow path to a squat little hut. Its walls were made of stacked logs with mud filling the cracks, and the earthen roof was overgrown. Where was Osmund’s goat, Burghild?
“Osmund!” Elric called. He ran to the door of the hut and swung open the door. He thrust his head in the low doorway, knocking his forehead on the low log. Elric winced and backed up, holding his forehead. No fire crackled in the hearth, and the small house felt dead inside. Sinking dread filled him.
“Elric, is that you?” a familiar, gruff voice said from behind him. Elric spun around, knocking the top of his head on the overhanging roof. He fell on his backside in front of the door and sat there holding the stinging knot forming under his scalp.
Osmund stepped forward carrying turnips in a woven net. His hair was overgrown, and his face looked haggard.
“Osmund!” Elric jumped up again, this time more carefully. “Osmund, I’m so glad you are here. We found it. Wynn and I found the gate. You have to come with me, quickly.” Elric reached out and grabbed Osmund by the shoulder to drag him forward.
Osmund slapped his hand away. “You found it?” He looked at Elric in shock. Then he reached into his shirt and drew out his medallion. It, too, glowed bright gold. He blinked as he looked up again. “I can’t believe you found it.”
“We have to go back. They can’t keep the fairy ring open very long.” Elric took two long half-running steps back toward the felled tree.
“No,” Osmund said.
Elric stopped and turned. “What?”
“I don’t want to go back,” he said. “I have my life here. I prefer it this way.”
“Alone in these miserable woods?” Elric said in disbelief.
“It’s better than a gilded cage.” Osmund turned toward the door. “Why don’t you stay here with me? No one is looking for you anymore. You will be safe. It’s been too quiet since Burghild . . .” His face fell, but then he managed a smile. “Where is your sister? Is she inside? Wynn!” he called.
“Wynn is lost in the Nightfell Wood,” Elric said, and pulled out his fading medallion. “And I need you to help me save her.”
Osmund stared at him. Elric watched an internal war play out on Osmund’s face.
“The Grendel is after her. There are reapers in the woods, hunting,” Elric said. “Please,” he begged. “Don’t abandon her, too.”
Muttering a curse, Osmund strode forward, tossing the turnips into Elric’s arms. “I swore if I ever had the chance, I would never go back!” he shouted. “I’m only doing this for Wynn.”
Elric dropped the turnips and hurried after him as Osmund dislodged his short-handled ax. “Thank you,” Elric said under his breath even though he knew Osmund couldn’t hear him. He lifted the medallion at his neck. Its glow was nearly gone.
They rushed through the woods, Osmund leading the way, but he paused at the edge of the stones. Elric charged through to the center of the mossy ring. Looking like a man at the gallows, Osmund stepped over the threshold. “No matter what I say, play along,” he warned.
Elric didn’t have time to ponder what Osmund meant by that. “We’re here!” Elric called, holding his medallion high, and the ground dropped away.
CHAPTER NINEWynn
WYNN BACKED UP FROM THE smoke and shadows in front of her. Then she remembered the fearsome cat was behind her. She stopped. She couldn’t move, and her thoughts muddled in her head.
Shadows were bad. The fairies said the Grendel dressed in shadows.
The curling smoke and darkness spilled down, spreading across the forest floor.
A girl emerged from the cloak of shadow. Long, softly curling hair the color of midnight surrounded her. She held a worn and knotty staff. A dress formed of black smoke trailed behind her as she approached. She had scars on her face, like she had been attacked by an animal once. She stared ahead, somewhere between Wynn and the cat behind her. Her eyes were very dark brown and half hidden by thick lashes.
“Go back to your little stick city, elf,” the girl said, crossing her long staff in front of her. “Before I change my mind about sparing you.”
Wynn was so scared, she barely understood the words the girl had said. “I don’t know,” Wynn mumbled, because she had no other words that her mind could put together quickly.
The girl took a step forward, and Wynn had to take a step back. She almost slipped into the ditch.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” she demanded.
Wynn didn’t have the words; they wouldn’t come.
The girl charged forward with her staff. She hit Wynn in the arm, and Wynn fell on her side. The girl reached down, grasping for her, and touched her hair. She let go like Wynn was on fire. With her forehead furrowed, she backed away. She touched her own hair and frowned. “What are you?”
“My name is Wynn.” She said each word carefully. “What is your name?”
The girl didn’t answer; instead she peered over Wynn’s shoulder at the other side of the ditch.
The enormous striped cat leaped over the ditch
