“Took you long enough,” Mercia mumbles. “You have the compact mirror?”
Rachel touches her front pocket. “Yes.”
“A first-aid kit for emergencies?”
“Yup.”
“Water, food, and—”
“I can open the bag for you to check if you want?”
“Sorry, it’s not every day I send someone off into the unknown.” Mercia crosses her arms. “The Fae light I saw flying past is going with you, right?”
Rachel nods.
“And that’s your sleeping bag?”
“It’s a blanket,” Rachel corrected her. “I couldn’t find my sleeping bag.”
“Don’t you think it’s kind of important to have a sleeping bag when you’re going out into an unknown wilderness?”
“Yes, but the sleeping bags are probably somewhere in the attic, and time is running out.”
“Okay.” Mercia grimaces. “Good luck then, I guess.”
“Your enthusiasm is infectious,” Rachel says in a deadpan tone as she walks toward the open front door. “I sent Dougal a text telling him you’ll be helping, along with your number.”
“And?”
“You should explain the witchy business to him,” Rachel says. She locks the front door behind them. “He’s a little close-minded on some things, but eventually he’ll come around to the idea of you having magic.”
“Close-minded in what way?”
“Well, Dougal isn’t the type of person who’ll divulge your secret unless it is a threat to someone he cares for, but he won’t be too happy about having to work with a witch either.” Rachel descends the porch steps and walks across the lawn. “Truth be told, it’s likely he’ll be speaking in Gaelic every time you go near him, which isn’t half as bad as it sounds.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mercia says. “Don’t get yourself killed, okay?”
“It’s definitely not on my to-do list,” Rachel calls back. She steps onto Griswold Road.
“Oh.” Mercia’s voice halts her. “When you go through the gate, just think about Orion, otherwise you may end up somewhere completely different. The Harrowsgate sometimes has a mind of its own.”
That explains why Dougal and I ended up in Telfore. We had no idea where we wanted to go.
“Thanks.” Rachel waves her goodbye, and continues walking up the road.
Ziggy flies ahead, dipping toward a dense shrub. The Fae light circles the foliage as Rachel nears the sign. Ziggy flies back to her side before returning to the shrub. She turns her attention to the greenery.
“Please tell me I don’t have to talk to a bush,” Rachel says.
Ziggy flashes once.
She throws her head back to look at the sky, where the sun is already plunging toward the horizon. With a frustrated groan, she rights herself.
In case there are any hidden faeries, pixies, and knockers present, she knows it’s only appropriate to ask permission to enter the forest, but there’s something about talking to plants that just screams crazy.
“Hi,” she says, grimacing at the tremble in her voice. “Yesterday, Mrs. Crenshaw was attacked by a Miser Fae, as I’m sure you know, but Dougal and I can’t defeat the creep without help. So, I need to go to Orthega, find Orion, and bring him back here.” Rachel looks back at Ziggy. “How was that?”
Ziggy answers by dimming, as if to say, “Meh”.
“Please?” she adds, directing the word to the bush, while keeping an eye on Ziggy.
The Fae light flashes once, apparently approving of her manners.
“Can we go now?”
Another single flash answers. Ziggy flies off, moving beyond the invisible barrier without slowing.
Rachel steps up to the ACCESS PROHIBITED sign.
The magical barrier, which surrounds the entire forest, sent electrical tingles across her skin the last time she’d entered. Those ripples hadn’t been entirely unpleasant, but Rachel’s fairly positive that when she and Dougal passed through without permission, they’d inadvertently set off the forest’s defense mechanism.
She takes a moment to gather her courage, and fills her lungs with the crisp autumn air, then takes a cautious step forward. Nothing hinders her advancement. Rachel takes a second step forward. No tingling sensation. With an exhale of relief, she walks deeper into the forest, calling out her thanks for being granted permission.
Ziggy glides past the first tree, weaves around the second, and circles the third.
“Hey, wait up.” Rachel ducks beneath a low branch. She climbs across raised roots, and manages to keep a few paces behind the seemingly jubilant golden sphere.
Ziggy bounces in midair as if to tell her to hurry, before rushing back to her side.
“I’m saving my energy,” she says when the Fae light circles her. “Think of it as a marathon, not a sprint.”
Ziggy rushes forward and back several times, urging her to move faster.
“Dude, you’re getting on my nerves. Cut it out or I’m turning back.”
In response, Ziggy loses some of his vibrancy, grows a shade darker. He hovers a few steps ahead of her, only moving forward when she does.
“Now you’re taunting me?”
One flash from Ziggy confirms her assumption.
Rachel shakes her head and picks up the pace. “You’re a real pain sometimes.”
She always anticipates birdsong or hopes to see a squirrel or hare scrambling for cover, but the trek through the dense forest is devoid of life. There’s an unbearable hush, a nothingness that seems to burrow into her very being. Apart from her footfalls on the fallen leaves, aside from her rhythmic breathing, only—
The melody picks up from somewhere deep within the forest. She’s willing to give into the temptation of following the sweet sound if it leads her closer to where she needs to be. If it leads her to Orion ...
Meanwhile, her thoughts and a sulking magical lightbulb are her only company. Strange questions she can’t begin to answer pop randomly into her mind. How long until she gets to the portal? Is it even considered a portal? Who built it? Why did they build it? Is Stonehenge actually another one of these Fae portals?
“You still angry with me?” Her soft spoken words sound like a shout into the void, but it’s better than the countless weird questions wreaking havoc on her psyche.
Ziggy answers with two flashes. No.
“Are we relatively close to where we need to be?”
Ziggy
