“Sometimes, I hate you.”
Sol grins. “The Earth thanks you for your environmentally friendly choice.”
“Sprouts taste like dirt,” I argue around a mouthful of soggy plants.
“Did you want to go bowling?” Sol gestures to the alley behind me.
“Nah, I’m not in the mood.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“Because,” I say shortly. “Let’s go back to the base.”
“Already?” Sol falls into step beside me.
I can’t go to Vera’s now, not with Sol being so persistent. Fortunately, I was able to pass an identical note to Charles, so chances are good that it will reach our leaders at some point.
“Yeah,” I say in answer to Sol’s question. “I’m feeling kinda tired from yesterday.”
He doesn’t argue, and we head back.
5
Sophia
Bren has been missing for two weeks. My stomach is tied up in knots. Where could he be? Did he get hurt? Is he lying somewhere in the forest, waiting for me to come help him? I’ve tried to get her to help me discover his whereabouts, but Eema simply tells me, The boy is entitled to his secrets, the same as everyone else.
This is beyond frustrating, but I can’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want to.
So putting my beloved books aside, I spend every free moment of my days searching the island, as far as I can walk. I’ve been scolded by adult clan members on more than one occasion for neglecting my duties, and I simply shrug. Finding Bren is more important to me than anything else right now.
The only place I haven’t checked again is the Wild Wood. Just the thought of going there makes my teeth chatter, but the longer I stay away, the more convinced I am that he’s in there somewhere.
Unless he’s left the island. If he has, he’s lost to you, forever.
I shake my head vigorously. I can’t allow myself to even consider that. He’s here. He has to be.
So one day, I slip a butcher knife from the kitchen and, gathering my courage, step into the Wild Wood, again.
The forest is silent. The sound is horribly muffled, and I have the uncanny suspicion that sound doesn’t escape this part of the woods.
I am on my own. If anything attacks me here, I will have to bail myself out.
I am here, little one. Eema’s voice rumbles up from the soil, entering my mind. You are not alone.
“Thank you,” I whisper. And I mean it. My fear leaves me, and I walk boldly, eyes searching for any signs of my friend.
There’s something different about Bren. He doesn’t age like I do. He doesn’t have a family, choosing to live alone in the forest. How does he get his food? Where does he live?
I always assumed we knew everything there was to know about the other, but that isn’t true. “It’s not true, is it?” I speak into the oppressive stillness. “You kept secrets from me, Bren. That’s not what friends do. I haven’t kept things from you.”
A branch snaps under my foot, and I grimace at the noise. It sounds too loud for such an eerie place.
“It’s okay,” I murmur to myself. “I have a weapon.” I tighten my hold on the knife, drawing comfort from the feel of the haft. Do I have experience in using a knife? Not really. But I’ve sword fought with Bren using sticks enough time that I feel like I could use it if I needed to. Surely pretend fighting counts for something. I hope.
Minutes pass, and an oppressive pall still hangs over the woods. Why? What is out here? Or perhaps there’s nothing out here. I know magic hangs over the island; perhaps this is a pocket without enchantment. Maybe.
Danger. Eema’s voice presses against my mind. Be very quiet. It is close.
“Do I run?” I whisper, the sound barely above a breath. I know she can hear me.
Hide. It is coming.
The fear is back. Heart thumping wildly, I look around frantically, my gaze alighting on a fallen tree. The roots were pulled up, creating a muddy hollow of sorts. I dive into it, crouching as low as I can manage.
I blink dirt out of my eyes and look around. I’m at the edge of an almost-clearing of sorts, but I don’t see anything. What did she mean? What is out there?
And then I feel it. Dread creeps over me. Malice permeates the surrounding air, choking in its intensity.
Stars, what did I get myself into? Bren wouldn’t be crazy enough to come out here by himself, would he?
But I am, and now even the Earth is afraid for me.
I want to run, but I’m not even sure what I’m running from, yet.
Silence falls over the clearing like a death shroud, and something walks into view.
Walking isn’t the right word. It’s a glide, as a cloaked figure slips into my vision. Its clothing is pale, the hem bloodied. It moves forward, back hunched, arms held stiffly, with fingers of bone.
Bone. I shudder, my blood freezing when the creature stops its forward movement and turns sharply in my direction.
I don’t move. I don’t even breathe. My gaze is locked on the hooded head, the depths of the cowl so deep I can’t see the face of the wearer. Maybe it doesn’t have a face.
It doesn’t move, and my chest tightens. I need air, but I don’t dare take a breath, even though my lungs are burning.
I am sending help. Hold on, Sophia. Eema’s voice is worried, and that scares me, too.
The creature begins to glide again, turning its terrible head away from me as it continues crossing the clearing.
I exhale quietly, and the creature spins, turning its head back to me.
Run. Eema’s voice pushes against me with frantic urgency. Run!
I spring up and flee, acutely aware that the feeling of malice and hatred has zeroed in on me.
It’s hungry, and whatever that thing is, it’s decided I’m its next victim.
Fear blisters my insides, and I sprint with every ounce of strength I can summon.
