Where the Woods Grow Wild Read online

  “We’ll wash up later,” she said. “We should settle matters between you two before sundown, or Martin may be stuck with us another day.”

  Illo folded her arms across the table. “What’ve you decided, Fella? Is he going to make me a new mesh cover? It’ll take him ages with just one hand, but I don’t mind watching him do it.”

  Fella looked at her sternly. “You’re going to help Martin find his friend, Elodie.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” Illo laughed. “He owes me, not the other way around. That’s why I brought him here.”

  “If you had listened to him in the first place, it might have dawned on you that he was telling the truth. Getting lost in the woods is serious, Illo. I’d like to think you would have offered help.”

  Illo picked at a crumb on the table. “I might have.”

  Fella’s shoulders fell. “You of all people know how dangerous the forest can be, but you’re also more than capable of lending a hand. So...”

  “I’m not a child, Fella.” She ground the crumb between her thumb and forefinger. “Fine, I’ll help him find Ebony.”

  “It’s Elodie,” said Martin.

  “Yeah, we’ll find her, too. But what about my boar trap?” Then, catching the look on Fella’s face, she raised her hands. “Okay, okay. Never mind the trap for now. What’s the fastest way to find her?”

  Fella tapped her chin. “Podgin has his maps. See if he’ll help you out.”

  “We’re still doing this the hard way,” Martin insisted. “Show me the way home and I’ll round up a search party. They’ll comb through the woods and have her out in no time.”

  “No,” said Illo. “We’re not doing that.”

  “But—”

  “I said no, Martin. I may be cornered into helping you, but we’ll do things my way. First of all, the boar grounds are the farthest west I ever go. I’m a good hunter, but even I wouldn’t be able to retrace all the circles Bramble led you in. You’re in my world now, and it looks like you’re stuck here. Secondly,” she lifted two fingers, “I won’t allow a bunch of ignorant city savages running rampant through my home.”

  Martin looked to Fella for help, but she gave a slight shake of her head.

  Aguilax stirred to life. “I might as well come along. We didn’t see much action this morning, and my muscles are starting to jitter.”

  Illo dumped her camouflage cloak outside the door. “I’ll get rid of it later.”

  Fella pinched her nose. “I appreciate that. When you find Elodie, bring her here.”

  “Aren’t you coming with us?” Martin asked.

  “Illo can handle this. Besides, I’m not the one who kidnapped you.”

  Illo cleared her throat. “I thought we were in a hurry.” She kicked the door open.

  Aguilax followed her outside, as did Martin.

  He stopped in the doorway and turned to Fella. “Thanks again.”

  She winked. “Don’t mention it. While you’re out there, watch out for—”

  “Pretty much everything?”

  “See? You’re getting the hang of this already.”

  Illo and Aguilax were waiting for him by the brook.

  “I suppose I’d better know what she looks like,” said Illo. “Not that a lot of people get lost in the woods, but you know.”

  Martin adjusted the straps of his leather sleeve. “She’s about my age and height. Hair like yours, but not as long. She’s wearing a blue courier uniform.”

  “What’s a courier?”

  “She runs errands for Mayor Clarenbald.”

  Illo snickered. “That’s a funny name.”

  “I guess. We have worse. But anyways. Blue courier uniform, and she had a matching shawl, assuming she didn’t lose it in the river.”

  “Speaking of which,” said Illo, “how did you manage to spill off the bridge, anyhow? Don’t get me wrong, I realize you’re not the most agile person to walk the earth, but still. I’m curious.”

  Martin bit back a retort. “A branch fell from the tree over us. I jumped out of the way, and the rail broke under me.”

  “Right. Because branches always drop out of place willy-nilly.”

  “Forget it. I know what happened, and I don’t need to convince you. What’s your plan?”

  “We told you. We’re going to Podgin’s.”

  “Podgin?” Martin repeated.

  “Call him a neighbor,” said Illo.

  Martin rubbed his forehead. “I’ll just follow you. I can’t keep track of so many new names in one day.”

  “At least we don’t have any Clarenbalds,” she said. “I don’t think I’d ever be able to take one of those seriously.” She muffled another laugh. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Bow in hand, Illo set forth across the brook with Martin close behind her and Aguilax frolicking alongside. They doubled back around the cottage and headed east.

  * * *

  It was the strangest procession Martin had ever been part of. Parading single-file through Bardun Village with Hergelo Stump, Percy Durbity, and Evangeline Pig would have drawn less attention than Martin’s present company.

  “We’d get there much sooner if we traveled my way,” Illo told Martin with a wistful glance at the trees, “but Fella wouldn’t ever forgive me if you fell and nicked your noggin.”

  Aguilax had no qualms about staying on the ground. He trotted alongside them with his wings folded neatly and his head held high, rubbing his back against Illo’s legs one moment and swatting at a beetle the next.

  Given the nature of the forest and the trouble he had already gone through, Martin expected their jaunt to be a long one. He was surprised when Illo signaled them to stop at the bottom of an earth bank with round boulders and more root tangles spilling over the top.

  “Here we are,” she announced.

  Martin thought she was joking. Then he looked closer. The bank wasn’t bare. There was a thick door wedged among the roots, the only evidence of a buried dwelling. There were no markings on it, no name, not even a doorknob or a knocker.

  Illo pounded twice on the door with her fist.

  “Are there a lot of people like you?” Martin asked while they waited. “I mean, living here in the forest.”

  “If by people you mean humans like me and Fella,” said Illo, “then no, not a lot. But people in a broader sense? You only have to know where to look.”

  Nobody answered at the door.

  Martin shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Looks like no one’s home.”

  Shaking her head, Illo tapped her nose. Martin drew in a breath. Under the damp, earthy smell of the forest he caught a whiff of soot and mushrooms.

  “He’s here,” said Illo. She banged on the door again. “Podgin, let us in! It’s me, you milkcap!”

  Another wait.

  “I should have gone on my own,” said Martin.

  “You could have, and in five minutes you’d be right back where I found you. Totally helpless.”

  “I can look after myself.”

  “You’re a one-handed town boy in a wild, wild forest. Think I don’t know what I’m talking about? Look there.”

  Two twin oaks stood a good distance away, one with leaves faintly tinted violet along the edge and one with normal, green leaves. They were shorter and stouter than most others.

  “Do you know what happens if you get to close to the green one?”

  Martin shook his head.

  “The roots snag your feet and lock you in place until they fancy letting you go, which could take days. I call them anklesnatchers. And the one with the violet leaves? What happens if you get too close to that one?”

  “I get eaten?”

  “No. Absolutely nothing happens. It’s just a tree.”

  “I see your point,” said Martin. “But I wasn’t alone. I had Bramble helping me until you scared him off.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That bean? Please. Like it or not, we need a proper search plan, and we need maps for that, and we need Podgin for ma
ps.”

  At that very moment, the door groaned open. Out stepped the shortest man Martin had ever seen. Bushy eyebrows scrunched together over his dark eyes, and his nose was as red as a boiled tomato. A woolly beard sprang in all directions from his box jaw. He wore a gray robe, which looked more like a nightgown than anything else, all the way down to his hairy toes.

  “Good gobs of goose feathers,” said Podgin. “What do you want?”

  Illo plastered an ear-to-ear smile on her face. “Good afternoon, friendly neighbor Podgin.”

  Podgin stuck his head out from under the bank just enough to see the sky. “Is it already?”

  “Yes it is,” said Illo. “What have you been up to all day that’s got you smelling so...loamy?”

  Podgin ignored her question. He eyed the small party warily. “I see you’ve brought the feathery fur ball. Mind your distance, Aguilax, as I’m feeling rather sensitive today. But I don’t recognize that one.” He pointed at Martin with a sooty finger.

  “He’s not from the forest,” said Illo. “His name is Martin, he says he’s from the outside, and he insists there’s a whole village of people where he comes from. What was it again? Bingdum?”

  “Bardun,” said Martin.

  “Close enough. Anyways, that’s all according to him. I’m still not convinced.”

  “Of course there’s a village outside the forest,” said Podgin, still behind the half-open door. “You ought to know that.”

  Illo scowled and mumbled an excuse.

  “So why is he with you? And more importantly, why are any of you here? It’s not a good time. I’m terribly busy, and I’d prefer to be left alone.” He sucked the soot off his finger.

  Illo smelled the air. “You’re making stuffed mushrooms, aren’t you?”

  “No I’m not, and you can’t have any. You can’t come in, either. I haven’t got time for any more life-threatening shenanigans, and I can already feel a sneeze coming on.”

  “Come on, Podgin,” said Illo. “We came all this way to help him,” she jerked her thumb at Martin. “Don’t be such a hedgehog.”

  “Then I’ll let the town boy in, if it makes you feel any worse. And I’ll offer him a stuffed mushroom, which I’m not making.” He licked the next finger and nodded approvingly.

  “But Fella sent us.”

  “Give her my warmest regards. Good day.”

  Podgin retreated into his dwelling and shut the door before anyone could stop him.

  Illo groaned. “I could have started a new pit by now and saved myself the trouble.” She banged on the door with both fists this time. “I know you’re on the other side, Podgin, waiting to hear us walk away, so let me tell you something. While I was tracking bog boar the other day, I spotted truffle brule around a red oak not far from our place. I promise to tell you where it is if you let us in.”

  The door cracked open. Podgin’s nose emerged, nearly trembling with anticipation. “New patch, eh?” The crack widened. “Black or white?”

  Illo threw her hands up. “How should I know? I didn’t dig the nasty things up.”

  Podgin’s beard and eyes joined the nose. Neither were happy. “Take that back or I’ll lock the door and cork my ears so I can’t hear you pound or shout.”

  “Fine, they’re not nasty. Can we please come in now?”

  “The brule spot and a spade to borrow. Mine broke last week.”

  “Yes, yes, a spade too. While we’re at it, want me to dance while you dig?”

  “Good heavens, no. You’ve upset the truffles enough already.” Podgin eyed the trio one last time. Then he sighed, ran his hands through his beard, and stepped aside. “Wipe your feet, mind you don’t touch anything, and…” He never finished his thought, for as Aguilax trotted by his eyes watered and he gave a mighty sneeze.

  Martin dipped his head to dodge the door frame. There was no mat or carpet to wipe his feet on, so he followed the others down a musty hall and into the belly of Podgin’s hole in the bank.

  Unlike the cottage Illo, Fella, and Aguilax lived in, Podgin’s dwelling consisted of a single room with a low, arched ceiling. If the cottage felt cluttered, this room was a pandemonium of seating furniture and stacks of chests, drawer cabinets, and boxes full of tools and knick-knacks. What little wall space remained featured carved clocks and empty frames and pegs for hanging mugs.

  “He’s a bit of a hoarder,” Illo told Martin.

  One half of the room stood apart as a kitchen, complete with a brick stove, from which hung a bucket with ashes still glowing orange. From the stove drifted the aroma of what Martin could only assume were stuffed mushrooms.

  Podgin glanced longingly at the stove before rummaging for a pair of stools, which he placed as far away from the kitchen as he could. Then he cleared a stack of leather shoes from a cushioned chair and sat across from them. His feet dangled an inch or two above the floor. He pulled a bulbous root from the depths of his robe and held it out in Martin’s direction.

  “Chicory?”

  “No, thank you,” said Martin.

  Podgin looked relieved. He bit off the end of the root and chewed loudly. “Now. What do I have to do to get my spade and brule patch?”

  “It’s like this,” said Illo, squirming to find a comfortable position on her stool. “Earlier today, Martin came into the woods because who-knows-why, and fell into the river—the Turtlegabble, if I understood his story correctly.”

  “Turtlegabble?” Martin interrupted. “Who would ever name a river that?”

  “Anyone who pays attention would,” Illo snapped. “If you stay quiet and listen, it sounds like a bunch of arguing turtles. As I was saying, this friend of his, Elodie, was with him, and she fell in too.”

  Podgin took another bite of chicory root. “Goodness me. Do town folk often fall into things?”

  “We didn’t just fall,” said Martin. “A branch dropped from a tree, and I broke the rail trying to dodge it. Elodie jumped in after me, since I’m not the best swimmer.”

  “It’s okay to admit you just fell in,” said Illo.

  “I’m telling the truth! By the time I got out of the water, Elodie was gone. I figured she swam out and was looking for me, so I headed back upriver to meet up with her. Then a really big snake dropped down from a tree, and—”

  “Hold on,” said Illo. “You didn’t mention any snake last time.”

  “It didn’t seem that important.”

  “What color was it?”

  “Green. Sort of like a lime.”

  “Thick scales and a flat head?”

  He nodded. “Can I keep going now?”

  She gave him a hard look but said nothing more.

  “That little thing, Bramble, drove the snake away,” Martin continued. “He told me he had seen Elodie and could take me to her. What is he, by the way?”

  “More trouble and mischief than is worth any of our attention,” said Podgin. “Most of the time he sticks to himself. I’m surprised he offered to help you.”

  “He sounded like he wanted to be friends.”

  “That would be a first,” said Illo.

  “After that,” said Martin, “I think he got a little lost. We tried to cross that place where the bog boars are—”

  “Used to be,” said Illo.

  “—and fell into a hole.”

  “It wasn’t a hole,” she objected. “It was a pit. My pit. My best pit. The pit that I spent a long time digging and an even longer time hiding. He galumphed right into it and wasted all my work. That’s why I took him with me. I thought Fella would make him pay me back somehow. Boy was I wrong. I had to make supper for everyone, and next thing you know I’m in charge of a search and rescue party.”

  By that time most of Podgin’s chicory root was gone. “It certainly sounds like everyone’s had a downright miserable day, but I don’t see why you had to bring your troubles to me.”

  “We need your truffle map.”

  “Not my truffle map!” Podgin’s lip stuck out. “I spen
t years marking off all those spots. What if you soil it? Or tear it? Or lose it? What if Aguilax licks it just to spite me?”

  “I promise to take care of it. Remember the soup jar Fella sent for your cold last month? You owe us.”

  “Soup is just water and onions pretending to be food,” said Podgin.

  “He has a point there,” said Martin. “We make a lot of soup at the Cabbage Cart, and there’s usually onion in it.”

  “You’re extraordinary,” said Illo, shaking her head. “Now, where’s the map?”

  Podgin slouched in his seat. “I was worried about the humidity, so I tucked it neatly in the pages of that cumbersome book nobody ever reads, along with my favorite mushroom recipes. You know, valuables I can’t afford to misplace.”

  “And the book is...?”

  Podgin shrugged. “Haven’t seen it since March.”

  “Great. Make yourself useful, Martin, and help me find it,” said Illo. She launched a full assault on Podgin’s haphazard piles of belongings.

  Martin jumped to the task, glad to finally take action. He tackled the nearest stack of boxes. “What sort of book are we looking for?”

  Illo dug through opposite side of the room. “It’s old, brown, and almost as thick as you are. You’ll know it if you find it.”

  Digging through the pyramids of possessions was no easy task with one hand. Martin had to brace himself against the wall with his left arm and rummage with his right. Meanwhile, Podgin danced back and forth between him and Illo, spouting warnings and laments in equal amounts, all of which went ignored.

  Chance favored Martin. After discarding a dusty tin pot, his fingers brushed against the leather binding of a heavy book. He pulled it loose, causing a minor item avalanche, and held it up.

  “Got it.”

  “Thank goodness,” said Illo. She joined him in the middle of the room.

  Martin squinted and read the faded title out loud. “Forest Flora and Fauna, from Floodweed to Fanged Fledglings. Who writes things like this?”

  “Someone who’s been dead for a hundred years, probably,” said Illo.

  She took the book and leafed through it. There were pages upon pages on all sorts of forest creatures, some perfectly ordinary, some wild and unfamiliar. Each named creature, plant and animal alike, had sketches and diagrams and neat paragraphs of description to go with it.