Annie Burton had just joined the gathering in the clearing. “Oh my.” She blew out a long puff of air as she surveyed the damaged machine and the freakish footprints.
“It’s a lot to take in, I know,” said Hill.
“Pardon me, Mr. Hill,” she said. “There are an awful lot of stumps in this area. Did you cut down all these trees recently?”
“Yes, ma’am. Finished the big one off only yesterday.”
Annie cringed and drew in a sharp breath.
Mr. Hill appeared to take her alarm for admiration. “Yup. It took four of us to bring it down.” He nodded at all the felled timber around the field. “Made arrangements with the mill to sell most of it. Nice to get back a small piece of my initial investment.”
“But if the trees came all the way up to here,” Annie pressed, “doesn’t that mean this area was technically a part of the Wild Wood?”
Cole felt Fable’s hand tighten on his shoulder.
“Certainly not,” Hill replied. “Don’t worry. I took meticulous measurements, followed the property lines precisely.”
“Did he”—Fable’s voice was a harsh whisper—“did he really cut a whole corner off my forest just to draw a stupid line?” Her nostrils flared.
“Shh.” Cole put a finger to his lips, but Fable’s scowl was deepening.
“This whole endeavor has been no easy feat,” Hill continued. “I kept chalking it up to bad luck—but it’s all beginning to make sense now. Compasses suddenly spinning for no reason, the earth shaking—and now actual monsters? I really don’t know how you people have lived side by side with this Wild Wood for so long without doing something about it.”
A few of the townspeople who remained milling about the site murmured in agreement. “I’ve always said we shouldn’t be tolerating the little stuff,” Mr. Fenerty said. “Said it a hundred times. You leave milk out for a pixie one night, let a hob root through your garbage the next, it’s a slippery slope to goblins and trolls and giants, no mistake.”
Hill shook his head. “It’s madness to allow such dangerous beasts to live so close to people at all!” He threw up his hands. “Madness!”
“Allow them to?” Fable glared.
“Shh,” Cole whispered.
“Allow them to?” Fable repeated at full volume. Her face was flushed as she stood upright, emerging from her hiding spot. Cole put his hands over his eyes as she stalked out from behind the wreckage. Hill jumped visibly as she emerged and nearly lost his footing. “They were here first,” said Fable. “They allow people to live so close to them.”
Annie gaped. “What on earth—Fable?” She peered a little closer. “Cole Thomas Burton, I can see you back there!”
Cole shot Fable a dark glance and sighed as he stood up, too. “Hi, Mom.”
“I told you to stay put!” she said.
“Yeah. But, in our defense, you know we never do,” he said. “So I didn’t think you really expected it this time.”
Annie rubbed her temples. “And where is your brother?”
“He should be here any minute,” said Cole.
“You boys are hard enough to keep track of when you stay together,” Annie grumbled. “This is serious! You know how dangerous it can be so far from town. You are in so much trouble.”
“You can’t entirely blame the children,” Hill said, poking about the broken pieces of his pump jack. “Nobody in this town seems to take the threat seriously.”
“Please, Mr. Hill.” Annie turned to the man. “We take the dangers of the forest very seriously around here. There’s not a child in town who isn’t raised to respect the borders of—”
“But you shouldn’t have to! That’s the point—it’s tragic!” Hill picked up a broken iron rod about three feet long and waved it like a baton at the surrounding forest. “The Wild Wood is a danger! What’s the point of having all this beautiful wilderness right in your own backyard if you can’t even let your children run about without fearing for their lives?” Hill said.
“Who says wilderness needs to have a point?” Fable grumbled. “It’s wilderness. That’s the point.”
“The man ain’t wrong,” said Old Jim Warner, coming in at the back of the group. He had a rifle over one shoulder, and a grim expression on his face. “People lose themselves in that forest. Been tellin’ folks for years. There’s some powerful dangerous magic in them woods. Things that would make grown men cry.” He shifted the rifle to both hands, eyeing the shadows of the forest soberly.
“Do be careful with that thing,” said Annie. “There are children present.”
“I ain’t fixing to shoot anything I don’t have to.” Jim sniffed. “Just prefer the forest to be afraid of me, and not the other way around.” He punctuated his statement by aiming his barrel steadily in the direction of the tree line.
The Queen of the Deep Dark crossed through the woods with her head held high. She did not enjoy knowing that the ancient guardians of the forest—of her forest—were meeting in secret to discuss her affairs behind her back. It was fine, she told herself. Let them discuss whatever matters they liked with whomever they wished. When the talking was done, she would still be queen.
As she neared the northwestern limits of the Wild Wood, she slowed. The forest ached. The sound of the mighty Grandmother Tree crashing to the earth echoed in the back of her mind. With it hummed the irritating doubt that perhaps the spriggans were not entirely wrong. Had she been neglecting her duties? She crushed the thought with a mental heel, but it crawled off into a dark corner of her mind to bide its time.
Ahead of her, the queen heard voices. Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer. There were children in her forest. A boy—one of the twins that Fable was so fond of—and a girl she had never seen before. They had not yet noticed her, so she closed in on them silently, keeping to the shadows as she moved. As
