The great cat screamed as she clawed at the ground, desperate to pull herself out of the pit that had opened up beneath her. A vine pulled taut, shaking several broad leaves away from a large bell. It sounded above them, tolling with a dark and grim sound.
“What just happened?” Flame asked, pushing away from Wynn. “Where’s Shadow?”
“Oh!” Wynn crawled forward, reaching the edge of a great pit. Sharp wooden pikes had been buried in the bottom of the trap, but the tigereon had managed to avoid falling on them. Her claws still clung to the tree’s roots, while her tail thrashed over the sharp pikes. “Shadow fell!”
Flame prodded the ground with her staff, but as soon as she came to the pit, she fell to her knees. “Shadow!” she called. She clung to her staff. “Is she hurt?” she cried.
“No,” Wynn answered. But Shadow was in danger. The spikes were very sharp. They would hurt her. The tigereon needed something to climb out with. Wynn looked around. There had to be something she could use to help.
A part of the top of the trap hung on the far side of the pit. It had caught on the vine that rang the bell. It looked like a lattice of branches tied with ropes. It didn’t look very strong.
“Do something!” Flame screamed. She reached down the pit with her hand, and Shadow tried to claw up toward her. “Please!”
Wynn grabbed the piece of lattice and dragged it over to the side of the trap where Shadow clung to the wall of the pit. She had to use her whole body to drag it. Flame stayed on the edge of the pit. She knelt along the side, reaching down into it with her staff a few feet away from Shadow.
Wynn pulled the lattice over to the tigereon by herself. “Help me,” she called to Flame. She looped a section of the lattice over a thick root. It swung deeper into the pit, but didn’t fall.
Shadow’s enormous claws caught on the lattice. They sliced through a piece of rope, and part of the lattice crumbled. Shadow hissed.
“Help!” Wynn called as she clung to the lattice and fell back, bracing her feet on the curled root holding the lattice. Flame slapped Wynn on the shoulder, then felt along her arm until she too grabbed the lattice and braced.
Shadow tried again, reaching with her large paws. This time the lattice didn’t break. Slowly the tigereon dragged herself out of the pit. Her paw reached the top of the trap and Wynn grabbed it. Shadow’s eyes blazed with amber fire and she snarled. Flame grabbed the cat’s ruff and pulled. Finally Shadow dragged herself to the top.
Flame wrapped her arms around Shadow’s thick neck and cried into her fur. Shadow panted, then looked toward Wynn and squeezed her eyes shut.
“You saved her, Wynn,” Flame said. “You saved her.”
Wynn came forward and stroked the cat’s shoulder. Mildred trotted over and sat on the tigereon’s paw. Her stripes shimmered with pretty lavenders and yellows. Wynn knew, even though she couldn’t hear Shadow talking, that she was grateful.
A whistle floated over the air somewhere behind her. Wynn turned. That was a strange-sounding bird.
Shadow stopped panting and her stripes immediately faded to dark green and brown, until she nearly disappeared into the forest floor. Another whistle answered it.
Flame’s eyes went wide. “The elves. They’re here.”
Flame swung herself over Shadow’s back. The cat got to her feet. Flame reached back for Wynn to help her climb up on Shadow’s back too. “Come on!” she shouted. Wynn tried to swing her leg over Shadow’s hip. But then Shadow bounded forward, and Wynn tipped backward. She rolled off Shadow’s back and hit the ground hard.
“Wynn!” Flame cried. But Shadow did not stop. “Wynn, run! Hurry!”
Wynn scrambled to her feet and chased after the tigereon, but it was too late. Shadow charged forward with Flame riding her. The two of them disappeared into the woods.
Wynn bent down, panting. Mildred had disappeared. She had to find her. She straightened and began calling for her, but Mildred didn’t come out from under any of the bushes. Wynn was alone again. She lay down and curled into a little ball as the woods teemed with movement.
Suddenly an enormous boar emerged from the underbrush with a loud squeal. It had been harnessed to the strangest wagon that had been camouflaged with thick leaves and branches. The wheels had pegs jutting out around the tread that looked like severed boar’s feet. They left boar prints on the trail instead of wagon tracks.
The driver of the wagon rode high on a crafted seat. He wore a simple brown robe with a heavy hood. He pulled on the reins, tied through a ring in the boar’s nose, and his hood fell away from his face.
His skin was a vivid green, with patches of lighter green skin that swirled in complex patterns over his bald head and cheeks. The same curling patterns covered his hands. He had a narrow nose, tall pointed ears, and deep-set eyes that glowed orange.
Another wagon approached. The man in front of her tipped a contraption with a sharp spear point toward Wynn’s throat. She batted it to the side, but he frowned at her, and pointed it even closer to her neck.
“Quis es?” he said.
She looked at him, puzzled. “I don’t know,” she said. She had never heard those words before.
The other fearsome green man murmured more of the strange words in confused whispers as they attempted to rein in the restless boars. The beasts swung their heads and squealed. The second man pointed a terrifying contraption with an arrow toward her. She recognized it from the scary picture on Flame’s wall.
“You speak the Saxon language of the Otherworld?” one
