Dr. Fisher arrived and made her way to the front of the crowd. The onlookers mumbled and whispered, and Oliver Warner moaned unintelligibly as the doctor examined him. She snipped the man’s trousers up past the knee and gently shifted his leg. Mr. Warner groaned, his head rolling against the bench.
“It’s definitely broken,” Fisher announced. “I can give him something for the pain, but we’ll want to get him cleaned up and into a proper bed before I set the bone.”
A canvas litter was procured, and Mr. Warner was already being carried away when Evie and Old Jim came hurrying down the road.
“Dad?” Evie called. “Dad!”
Mr. Warner put out a hand limply to pat his daughter on the shoulder as she ran up to the cot. “I’ll be okay, sweetie. Stay with . . . Uncle . . .” His voice petered out and the doctor pressed Evie out of the way.
Tinn stepped out from behind his mother and Cole and edged closer to Mr. Hill. “Was it really a giant?” he asked. “Are you sure?”
Hill shook his head. “Sure? Kid, this morning I was sure fairy tales were a bunch of cockamamie nonsense and that the worst thing in that forest was wolves. I’m not sure of anything anymore. I know what I saw, though.”
Old Jim pursed his lips and nodded. “Was only a matter of time,” he grunted. “Been warnin’ folk about the Wild Wood fer years. There’s evil in that forest.”
“It’s not evil,” Tinn began, but a voice from the crowd cut him off.
“My cousin saw the witch once,” yelled Albert Townshend, “out by the mines. He said he locked eyes on her for just a second, and the very next day he broke his leg.”
“Our back acre’s been cursed for years,” called someone else from the back of the group. “My old man can never get anything but weeds to grow that close to the forest.”
“I’ve still got a scar on my knee from a tussle with a hobgoblin that got into our attic years ago!”
“I told you to leave it alone, Stuart. They’re not a bother unless they’re provoked.”
The crowd began to bubble various accounts of unnatural occurrences and brushes with beasts.
Hill was agog. “And this is just . . . just common knowledge? How do you all live like this?” he asked. “With evil forces lurking behind every log and leaf?”
“The forest folk are not evil!” Tinn said more loudly.
Old Jim raised an eyebrow. Cole stepped to Tinn’s side.
“There are lots of dangerous things in there,” said Evie timidly from beside her great uncle. “But maybe evil isn’t the right word for—”
“No. Evil is right,” growled Mr. Fenerty, a crotchety old man who ran the stationery shop. “Witches and ogres and . . . goblins.” He let his eyes flick from one Burton boy to the other. “Creatures like that don’t have an ounce of good in them.”
There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd.
The air in the crowded town center felt suddenly thin. Tinn flinched as a hand gripped his shoulder, but when he looked up it was only his mother. “Ignore them,” she whispered, but Tinn’s pulse was pounding in his ears.
“You don’t know,” he blurted. “None of you knows! All you know are stories. Stories get things wrong.”
“Stories didn’t break my nephew’s leg.” Old Jim’s voice was cold.
“Tinn’s right, Jim,” said Annie. “We don’t know what really happened up there.”
“I know what I saw,” Hill grumbled.
“Mm.” Old Jim scowled. “Show ’em.”
“What?” said Hill.
“Show ’em what happened to yer rig. They don’t wanna listen to my stories. So let ’em see for themselves.”
Hill looked less than eager at the prospect of returning to the scene, but with an audience awaiting his response, he nodded resolutely. “Yes. Yes, of course. I’ll take you. You, and anyone else brave enough to witness the wreckage with their own eyes.”
The crowd erupted into a susurrus as curious townsfolk stepped up to join the expedition. Annie knelt down in front of the boys.
“The forest isn’t evil,” mumbled Tinn. “I’m not evil.”
“Of course you’re not, sweetie.” Annie kissed his forehead. “You know better than to take those knuckleheads seriously. Old Jim thinks electricity is evil.”
Tinn nodded glumly.
“The rest of the town seems to be taking him pretty seriously,” said Cole.
“Yes. I think it might be best if I go up there with them,” Annie whispered. “I don’t love the idea of giants in Endsborough, but I don’t love the thought of a bunch of frightened townspeople egging each other on to go hunting monsters, either. Somebody needs to keep a level head.”
“Let’s go,” said Cole. “We should tell Fable and her mom what we find. They keep tabs on everything that happens in their woods—they’re not gonna like this.”
“I will tell them what I find,” Annie corrected. “I don’t want you two anywhere near that place.”
“What?” said both boys at once.
“But, Mom—” Cole began.
“No buts. I want you to stick together, go straight back home, and wait for me there. Understood?”
“No way. If anybody knows what to look for out there, it’s us,” argued Tinn. “We know more about things in those woods than anyone else in town.”
“Yes. And they’ve almost been the death of you more times than I care to count. I mean it.” Annie stood up. Twenty or so villagers were already beginning to make their way up the road behind her. “Go home. Stay put.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they said in miserable unison.
Annie took a deep breath and hurried after the crowd.
Tinn and Cole watched their mother join the procession. They kept watching until the group had made its way out of sight beyond the first bend.
Tinn looked at Cole. Cole looked at Tinn.
They did not go
