Where the Woods Grow Wild Read online

“To what end? We know where they’re taking her, and if we’re to perform an extraction, it’ll be tricky enough during the day. Right now you humans can hardly see the ground between your feet.”

  Martin didn’t want to give in, but he knew they were both right. As frustrating as it was, he had no choice other than to wait until the sun came up. He stormed off until he tripped on a log and fell. He decided it was as good a place to sit as any.

  The others got into a debate over whether or not they should build a fire. Podgin waved a few sticks he had gathered in Illo’s face, saying she hadn’t given him time to dig out his old blanket, and they had to keep warm somehow. She waved her bow right back at him and reminded him just how many wild animals a fire would attract. Podgin then commented how wild animals would be better company than savage girls and feather-covered mousers, to which Aguilax took offense and clipped him on the face with the tip of his wing. Podgin yelped once, sneezed twice, and dropped the argument.

  He joined Martin on the log. “A fine search party you’ve brought along with you.”

  “At least she hasn’t pointed arrows at you yet,” Martin said glumly.

  “Don’t assume so. Those two sisters and I have a bit of history behind us.” He sighed ruefully and dropped his sticks. “I’ll sneeze my own head off before the sun comes up, you’ll see. So what happened to your hand?”

  “An animal attacked me near the edge of the woods. It happened about a year ago.”

  He rubbed the sleeve with his thumb, thinking of Elodie and what it might take to free her from the dryads. As much as he needed help from his new companions, in the end it was up to him to get her back because it was his own clumsy fault they had fallen into the river in the first place.

  “There’s a thing or two you should know about dryads before you face one in person,” said Podgin.

  “Like what?”

  “They’re mad, every last one of them. Loony as larks. But their king, he’s the maddest of them all.”

  “That’s not comforting.”

  “I didn’t say it was,” said Podgin. “But now you know, so you won’t be fully flabbergasted when you find out what they want with your friend.” And with that, he sauntered off and became just another shadow.

  Illo and Aguilax were dark shapes in the clearing, the cat curled up with his eyes gleaming in the night, the girl sitting motionless with her back to a tree, her bow resting on her knees.

  Martin stayed on his log until the moon showed its face among the high branches. Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted. He wondered if it felt as lonely as he did. So much had happened recently, it was easy to imagine it had been days since he was last at Elodie’s side.

  The owl went quiet. Martin felt that strange itch in his arm again, just like he had by the river. He squinted at his skin in the faint moonlight, but nothing had changed.

  A shadow glided in front of the moon.

  Martin stared into the dark. The others didn’t move. Aguilax’s eyes had shut, and Podgin snored. The sound reminded Martin of Evangeline’s contented wheezing whenever Percy washed her down.

  Then, faintly, he heard the beating of wings, a slow, rhythmic rush of air. Something big propelling itself through the night sky. There one moment, gone the next.

  Martin scooted over to Illo. She was awake.

  “Did you hear that?”

  She stirred, as if coming out of a deep thought. “Who can’t? I was just about to stick wads of grass up his nose.”

  “Not that. I heard wings. Big wings. And I caught a glimpse of something flying overhead.”

  “I heard it. Just the owl.”

  “I don’t think it was that. This was bigger. And my old wound is itching. That’s the second time it’s happened since coming into the woods.”

  Illo shifted against the tree and yawned. “You’re just stressed.”

  “Do you...do you have any idea what it might have really been? The animal that cost me my hand?”

  Her eyes were unreadable in the dark. “Get some sleep, hog-moggins. We’ll get you home tomorrow. Both of you.”

  * * *

  Martin slept soundly through the night despite the hard ground and his troubled mind. He woke when the sun was already poking misty rays through the branches. He stretched, coaxing a fair share of pops from his spine. The air was cool and new, and dew in the grass dampened his clothes.

  He was on the ground with a shoulder tucked up against the log he had been sitting on. His back felt like a washboard, outdone only by his groaning legs. The others were still asleep. Illo hadn’t changed positions at all, but Aguilax had moved to the other side of the clearing and Podgin was no longer snoring.

  A host of morning birds made a considerable racket all around them. He wondered how he hadn’t woken up sooner to the raucous noise.

  Martin nearly jumped off the ground when something small and soft touched his arm. He looked down. Two blinking, blue eyes stared up at him.

  “Bramble? What are you doing here?”

  Bramble, for it was him, put a finger to his lips. “Must be quiet,” he whispered. “Must not wake Nayadu’s servants.”

  “They’re nothing of the sort,” said Martin. “At the very least, they’re not the ones who ran off when I was in trouble.”

  Bramble hung his head. “Bramble is ashamed.”

  “It turned out all right, I suppose. They’re helping me to find Elodie.”

  “The sun-drop girl?”

  “Right. That’s what you call her.”

  “Oh dear.” Bramble clutched his drooping ears. “Martin must be very careful.” He pointed at Illo’s sleeping form. “That one is the servant of Nayadu.” Then at Podgin. “And that one once threw a puffernut at Bramble.”

  “They said I shouldn’t believe everything you say.”

  Bramble pulled on his ears and looked away. “One for the trees, mustn’t shake the leaves. Mustn’t tell a lie, and mustn’t make a peep.”

  Just then, Podgin stirred in his sleep and muttered something incoherent.

  Bramble gave a little squeak. “Must go. Bramble is sorry. Martin must be careful. Must stay away from the dryad palace. Must—”

  “Must hold on just one minute,” Martin interrupted him. “How did you know we were going to the dryad palace?”

  Bramble blinked twice, pulled on his ears, and scampered into the woods.

  Martin shook his head. Perhaps Fella was right. He shouldn’t listen to anything Bramble had to say. He only ended up more confused than ever when he did.

  Podgin sneezed and sat up. “Good gopher giblets.” That was all he said.

  With a groan and a yawn, Illo rose as well. “Aguilax, fetch my bow. I’ll put an arrow through every last one of those chirping abominations.”

  “I’m glad to see we’re all getting up with utmost urgency,” said Martin, adjusting his leather sleeve. “We don’t have any time to waste.”

  He decided not to mention Bramble’s visit or his cryptic warnings.

  “You’ve clearly never had a dryad breakfast,” said Illo. “And good morning to you as well, while we’re at it.”

  “For all I know, Elodie will be a dryad breakfast if we don’t hurry.”

  Illo snorted. “Listen to yourself.”

  Aguilax stretched his legs and licked a few key spots around his shoulders. “There was a time when I hunted at night and slept all morning, before I became a sociable animal.”

  “So what’s your plan, trout-man?” asked Illo. She poked through the arrows in her quiver and strung her bow.

  “I don’t have one. I thought you were the expert on capturing things.”

  “I am,” she said. “But Elodie’s already been captured. I believe a rescue is more in order at this point, and I’ve never had to rescue anyone before.”

  “Dryads are tree-people, right? We could threaten to burn down this palace of theirs if they don’t give her back.”

  “They’re not afraid of fire,” said Aguilax. “In fact, they’re
not afraid of many things at all.”

  Martin threw his hands up. “I don’t know, then. I’ll think of something.”

  “You’d better,” said Illo. “We’ll reach the palace soon.”

  After a quick bite of the food Podgin brought, they gathered what little provisions and gear they had with them. Podgin held the food sack as if his life depended on it, making sure to keep Illo and Martin between him and Aguilax. He took a moment to find the path, and then the group left the clearing and stole closer to dryad territory.

  * * *

  Elodie spent the night in a chamber near the heart of the dryad palace. She was too tired to protest when Tum said goodnight and locked the door behind her. She blearily acknowledged the existence of a bed, sank onto it, and was out like a candle in the rain.

  Strange dreams invaded her sleep. She floated in a dark space with no walls or floor or ceiling, and a voice called out to her in the distance. It was Martin’s voice, and though she couldn’t understand what he was saying, she knew he needed her. Then a hand reached from the dark, but instead of flesh and bone, elongated fingers of twisted wood stretched to her.

  Lest Nayadu be on the prowl, came a warbled chant. The song bounced in her ears like echoes in a cave. Lest Nayadu be on the prowl. The hand reached for her throat, and she ran from it, but no matter how much she flailed it remained right behind her.

  Then, all of a sudden, the voice and the hand disappeared. She was no longer in the dark, but in a forest where trees grew up and down and to the sides, and she was trapped among their thorny branches. Barbs ripped her clothes and pierced her skin, though she couldn’t feel any pain.

  Small animals appeared through the thicket and darted past her feet. A rabbit, a shrew, a mole, a fawn. They ran right by her without looking up. A shape formed deep in the thorny wood, as black as the belly of the earth in its middle and fringed with silver light around the edge.

  Hear the shifting growl. The chanting voice returned.

  The shape morphed, expanding and contracting shifting between the shapes of humans and beasts. No face, no sound, just an ever-changing shadow in the trees.

  Lest Nayadu be on the prowl.

  Elodie woke and sat up stiff. Feeling like her face had been held underwater, she drew in gulps of air. She looked around. There were no dark places, no twisted hands, no thorns, and no shape-shifters. She knew she had been dreaming, but for a moment she thought it might have all followed her into the waking world.

  “That’s the last time I listen to a dryad song,” she said to herself. Her throat was dry and scratchy.

  She swung her bare feet over the edge of the bed and stretched her arms above her head. The palace halls outside her chamber were quiet, but the morning was still young. She wondered how much time she had before Tum and his companions came marching to the door.

  Despite her dreams, Elodie felt refreshed, and she took a look around. Her quarters looked like a cell that wanted to be a garden but had given up halfway between both a hundred years ago. The ancient walls were made of cracked, gray stone. Vines and white flowers poked through the gaps. The moss-coated floor tickled her feet. The smell of the lake washed through an arched window, which overlooked a courtyard painted green by time and nature. Elodie crossed the room and leaned out. Though she easily fit through the window, there wasn’t much to climb up or down on the outside. Even with the moss to cushion her landing if she fell, a broken leg wouldn’t do her any favors.

  Elodie put her weight against the dark wood on the other side of the room. The door stood firm. She put her ear to the wood. She heard tramping feet somewhere in the recesses of distant halls. Then quiet.

  Suddenly, a loud knock right in her ear sent her heart halfway up her throat. She jumped back, clutching her hands to her chest. The door opened, and in came a short, stout dryad with bright blue eyes and the faintest trace of green in his limbs. He carried the same sort of wicker basket Nettle had on their expedition yesterday.

  “Breakfast!” The dryad announced, louder than was necessary. Then he took a second glance at her. “Oh, no. I startled you, didn’t I?”

  Elodie unclasped her hands. “A little bit.”

  The tubby dryad dropped the basket on her bed. “Sorry about that. Everyone tells me not to be so loud about everything, but you never can tell who can and who can’t hear the knocks, what with these doors being so thick and all.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Elodie. “It really wasn’t that loud, but I had my ear pressed against the door when you knocked.”

  The dryad looked confused. “Why were you doing that?”

  “I was listening for anyone in the hall in case I could escape.”

  “That’s really nice,” said the dryad. “I guess my feet are the only quiet things about me.” As if on cue, his stomach rumbled. “Oh, no. Not this again.”

  Elodie edged towards the unlocked door.

  “I don’t think that’s a great idea,” said the dryad. “There are guards in the hall. They’ve been there all night, and that put them in a cranky mood.”

  The dryad sat on the edge of the bed.

  “You’re not a soldier?” Elodie asked.

  “Me? Not at all. I just carry the basket.” He grinned and lifted the basket to demonstrate. “There’s all kinds of goodies in here.” He tossed the lid aside and pulled out the contents. “We have fresh lake oysters, and honey rolls, and oranges, and some of those little duck pies, and plums, of course. Have whatever you want.”

  Elodie sat beside him. “Thank you. Do you have a name?”

  “Oh, yes. It’s Nub. Yesterday you met my younger brother, Nettle. He’s a soldier, and sometimes he carries the basket. But that’s all I do.”

  “Nettle and Nub. I see.”

  Trying to ignore Nub’s watchful grin, Elodie dug into the honey rolls. They were sweet and sticky, and she wished there were fifty more of them.

  Nub’s stomach growled again. “Goodness. Is it alright with you if I...?”

  “Go ahead,” she said.

  Nub licked his lips and peeled an orange.

  After she curbed her hunger, Elodie went to sit in the window sill. “Nub, do you know why I’m here?”

  “I think I do, but I’m not supposed to say anything besides ‘breakfast!’ and things about food. One of the guards outside is my cousin Thistle. He has very good ears, you see. He’s a soldier, but I just—”

  “You just carry the basket. I know.”

  “Oh, good.” Nub smiled wide and took a bite of his orange.

  Elodie ate some more. The oysters were too squishy for her liking, but the duck pies were tasty, and she washed them down with water from a flask at the bottom of the basket.

  “Thank you for the breakfast, Nub,” she said.

  By that point his mouth was too full of plums for him to answer, but he nodded politely. Elodie slipped into her shoes, trying not to draw attention to herself. The door stood ajar. Cousin Thistle or no cousin Thistle, this was as good a chance to escape as she was bound to have. Just then the door opened, and another dryad sauntered in.

  “Good morning, Petal,” said Nub.

  Elodie kicked herself for her taking so long.

  Petal eyed Elodie, Nub, and the food basket with an eyebrow arched over her green eyes. She was small and thin, with a cascade of sky-blue hair—or was it grass?—flowing past her waist. Tiny blossoms of the same color dotted her arms and legs, and a shimmering dress woven of what looked like moonbeams wrapped around her small frame.

  “Breakfast-time is over,” she said to Nub. “Pick up and leave.”

  Nub scurried to do as he was told. On his way out, he paused and smiled at her. “Today you look as pretty as ripe rhubarb.”

  “You have orange pulp on your chin.”

  Nub crossed his eyes trying to see. “Would you look at that?” He dabbed it off, licked his finger, and left the room with a bubble of laughter.

  Petal waited until Nub was gone, shaking her head. Then
she turned to Elodie. She scrutinized her from head to toe.

  “Why you?”

  “Why me what?” Elodie asked. She already liked this dryad far less than she liked Nub.

  Petal sighed a dainty sigh. “Come with me,” she said. “We have work to do on you.”

  Perplexed, Elodie stepped out of the room, where she found not two guards but four. Left without much choice, she followed Petal down a stone corridor.

  “Where are you taking me now?”

  Petal barely glanced over her shoulder.

  “I don’t like you very much,” said Elodie.

  One of the guards choked down a laugh behind her. Petal ignored both of them.

  The hall they followed curved steadily inward. They passed doors that opened to rooms just like Elodie’s confinement quarters, though all of them were empty.

  Petal didn’t speak, but Elodie caught a few narrow-eyed peeks over her shoulder. They came to a courtyard similar to the one outside the window in Elodie’s room. It was bigger, though, and in a slightly better state of repair. A green fountain bubbled in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by stone benches, each chiseled with floral patterns. Root tendrils spread from the fountain’s cracked base and roped across the flagstone all the way to the shady colonnade circling the courtyard.

  Elodie looked up. Spires and crumbling towers loomed around the courtyard on all sides, but open sky spread wide and blue overhead. She wished she had wings.

  Soft laughter came from the fountain. Three dryads, all female, danced around the stonework. When they saw Elodie, they ran up to her with bright eyes and brighter smiles.

  “Is this her?” said the first, a green dryad with hair like dandelion.

  The second ran her finger down Elodie’s arm. “Look how smooth her skin is! Like an eggshell. My name is Fawn. These are my sisters, Fern and Fay.”

  “She’s tall,” said Fay, her catlike eyes gleaming behind wisps of fireweed hair.

  “Stop that,” said Petal. “She’s a human, not a unicorn.”

  The three young dryads backed away.

  Petal dismissed the guards. She planted her feet in front of Elodie and gave her one more head-to-toe scowl. “You look plain to me,” she said. “Your hair isn’t colorful at all, your skin is too pale and too soft, and your pupils are too round. Can you even see with those?” She wagged her head. “I don’t know why they brought you.”