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  It was only a movement at the base of the trees, a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. Liam leaned forward, his hands holding tight to the rock. He could see them.

  Wolves. They came steadily on, spread out in a jagged line, each two trees apart. They kept their heads low and wove through the trunks, their eyes glittering. Not once did they pause in their steps. They were following the path Shallah and Liam had followed the day before. They’d caught their scent.

  Then, just as suddenly as they’d appeared, they were gone. The mist fell upon them again and Liam could see nothing but the upper branches of the trees they were passing beneath. He searched for them, straining to see through the shifting milky air, but it was no use.

  He felt very strange. He was breathless to share what he’d seen with Shallah, but at the same time he couldn’t make himself move. He could only stare at the place where he’d seen the wolves, every muscle in his body tense. Finally he came back to himself and slipped off the boulder. He had to show Shallah what he’d seen. If the wolves came upon her without warning, she’d be afraid. Liam didn’t want Shallah to be afraid.

  But when his feet hit the ground, he found his way blocked. The fog had thickened while he’d been on the boulder. He couldn’t see his way back.

  He tried very hard not to panic. Panicking only made things worse. He felt along the ground with his feet, searching for the place where the path turned downwards. But instead of finding the path, he found a patch of devil’s club so large it almost engulfed him. The thorns scratched through his hose as he fought his way out of it, the murky air filling his nose and mouth. Once he’d freed himself, he didn’t know which way to turn. The path seemed to fall downward in every direction. The swirling white surrounded him on all sides.

  For the first time, Liam was truly afraid.

  He thought of Shallah. She’d wake up to find him gone, the smell of damp fur on the air. She’d wake up afraid. He couldn’t bear the thought. He was in charge. He was supposed to be protecting her. Now he could do nothing for her. He’d left her alone.

  Liam sat down on the red earth and held his knees to his chest. He closed his eyes against the fog. He wished he was a braver boy.

  There was nothing worse than being afraid.

  When Shallah found Liam he was rocking back and forth, his forehead pressed into his knees. She said his name and touched him on the arm. The little boy started.

  “What’s the matter, Liam?” she asked, her alarm rising.

  Something wasn’t right. Though the fog was thick on the ground, the mist had finally lifted from her mind, just as the old woman had predicted. She remembered once again the terrible danger they were in and panicked at her carelessness. How many miles had the creatures gained? How much closer had they come as she’d dawdled in her dreams?

  Shallah sucked in a quick breath and the cold stung in her throat.

  “Come,” she said to Liam as she pulled him towards her. “Come,” she said again, getting to her feet and taking him on her hip, her frantic steps slapping on the packed earth, scattering the mist before her.

  They took rest only once night was falling and even then Shallah felt uneasy. In her haste that morning she’d left her walking stick behind and without it she felt less and less certain they hadn’t strayed from the eastern path. In the past few days they’d finally left those trails she knew so well and entered a part of the forest that was less familiar. Startled out of her waking sleep, Shallah found herself faced with a confusing landscape. The paths before her didn’t match those in her memory. Trees seemed to have moved and turns weren’t where they should have been. Streams seemed to have changed course or disappeared altogether. They stopped now at the side of the trail, not only from exhaustion, but for the simple reason that she didn’t know which way to go.

  Her mind occupied with worry, Shallah had had little chance to question Liam about the days she’d missed, which was just as well since he’d no words to give her. She could remember leaving the enchanted wood and rounding the hills, but it all seemed a dream. What had come over her during all that time? How could she have abandoned Liam so? She only felt worse as day turned to night. She’d deserted her post, and now look at the mess they were in.

  Liam sat in Shallah’s lap amongst the ferns and salmonberry bushes as she pressed her forehead into his hair, deep in thought. He picked at a handful of crumbs in the lap of his grey tunic, the vestiges of his dinner, and peered through the leaves. By all rights, the child should have been lost in sleep, as they’d been on the move since early morning. Instead, he chewed idly at his food, his eyes roaming over the foliage.

  Something had caught his attention.

  There was a great restlessness in the wood. A constant rustling sound filled the air. The dark was full of shifting shadows, snapping twigs and the smell of newly trampled earth.

  Shallah and Liam weren’t the only beings taking flight that night.

  A band of porcupines, travelling one behind the other, was making its way over the impressive root structure of a spruce tree on the other side of the path. A mink and her litter bounded past, nearly invisible in the dark save for the dash of white fur at their chins. As Liam watched fixedly, three elk, two cows and a calf, crossed over the path just ahead of where he sat, and continued through the trees.

  The creatures of the forest were on the move.

  Shallah paid no heed to the action about her. Her mind was consumed with the path ahead and the pursuers behind. Even as she struggled to choose a direction she could feel them drawing nearer. Their intent was far different from that of the creatures that teemed about her now. These animals, these trackers, weren’t pushing toward a destination; they were drawn. And they were close now, she could sense it. It sickened her to think how they might hurt Liam. For the first time, she reached for the dagger and withdrew it from its scabbard. As she held it between her fingers, her hand began to tremble, and the realization of what it was and what it could do, broke her down. Her entire body began to shake.

  What are we to do? she asked herself. Every direction seems the wrong one. Every step brings us farther from our goal. I’ve led us too deeply into the forest, ensnared us in a trap. Where will we find safety? Where can we turn?

  She began to breathe in quick snapping breaths. Her skin had gone cold as ice. She could feel Liam spreading a blanket across her knees. It broke her heart. Had she led this sweet boy to his doom?

  A tear slid down her cheek, though she clenched her eyes against it.

  “I’m failing you,” she said in a choked whisper.

  As Shallah struggled not to weep, she thought of home. It shocked her to realize that she hadn’t thought of Trallee in days. She ached to be there again, to sit with Liam in her croft and teach him the names of the different herbs, to feel the familiar walls of her cottage and breathe its smoky scent. She longed to hear the voices of the villagers, even those who disliked her: Walram Hale’s deep baritone and his wife Amaria’s shrill falsetto; the chatter of Raulf and his sisters; the hoarse complaints of Isemay Wray; Sabeline Guerin’s calming whispers and Rikild Blighton’s sharp reprimands; Rab Hale’s shrieks from the fields and Botulf Quigg’s drunken rants. She ached for them. She ached for her father. She wondered what he would think if he knew she’d returned from her quest, a failure.

  Liam put his arms around Shallah as she cried. Her tears seemed to pain him as much as they did her.

  Evening darkened into night but Shallah didn’t set the blankets out for sleep. On this night, she decided to press on even as fatigue pulled at her limbs, for only in movement could she tear herself from her doubts. In the end, it was the clamorous noise of the animals that brought her back to life. In desperation, she decided that following along with these creatures would be the best course. It wasn’t a decision she had much faith in, but the animals seemed to have a purpose and destination of their own, and this alone was enough for the moment. In her despair, it was the best she could do.

  The f
orest was midnight black as they set out at a drowsy trudge. They followed the path for some time, letting the sounds of the passing animals guide them on their way. At some moments the noise was so great that Shallah was sure naught but a passing family of giants could be making such a racket. Once or twice Liam had to cover his ears.

  Then, quite suddenly, the noise of the animals came to a halt. Shallah slowed her step, and it was a good thing that she did so, for without warning an enormous buck emerged out of the forest on their right and crossed the path. Liam stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the deer’s mighty antlers coming at them out of the dark. He grabbed hold of Shallah’s kirtle with both hands to stop her walking on. Shallah felt the heat coming off the buck’s chest as he passed, the fur of his flank brushing against her arm.

  For a moment she was breathless. It wasn’t quite a brush with death, for she couldn’t imagine the animal would have done her much harm, even if she’d walked right into him. But even so … He’d come so close. She couldn’t help but feel that the dangers of the wood were closing in on them. And the closer they came, the less she felt able to face them.

  Once the buck had gone crashing through the bushes to their left, Shallah realized Liam was still gripping her skirts. She gently pried his fingers loose and crouched down before him. He was breathing hard, as though he’d run a mile, but when she touched his face she felt a smile upon his lips.

  “My little saviour,” she whispered into his ear.

  Liam beamed.

  Shallah found herself once again at an impasse. Before them, the path bent to the right and then swung north-eastward. This was the path she’d imagined they would take. However, the animals had abandoned the path completely and were journeying due north through the wood. Should they follow? To do so would mean giving up entirely on any little knowledge she possessed. She knew nothing of the twisted weeds and roots of the wood away from the path. It would be wiser to stick to the path, even one dim in her recollection, than to go tramping through the woods after a bunch of senseless beasts. Still, she found herself turning longingly to the trail of the animals. When danger came, Jupp and Dobbin always knew it before she did. Animals had a sense about such things. To ignore their direction seemed close-minded, foolish even. They might know the way to safety.

  If I make the wrong decision here, Shallah thought, I may never be able to right it.

  Fear began to fill her like smoke in a tiny cottage. She couldn’t make another impossible choice, not now. She couldn’t bare the strain. She hugged Liam to her as though to comfort him, when it was she who needed comfort. Even to cry seemed too much of an effort.

  Let this choice be made without me, she wished. Let my feet choose the direction on their own. Let some ghostly hand reach out and pull me forward. Anything so I’m not forced to make this choice. Anything at all.

  Standing in the filtered light of the moon with Liam on her hip, Shallah felt the boy’s heartbeat begin to slow at last. She thought about the bravery of this small child. Confronted with danger, he’d decided in a moment what to do. He hadn’t balked at the choice before him. He hadn’t been paralysed with indecision. How had he managed such a thing?

  Maybe the key is to look at the situation through the eyes of a child, she thought to herself. A child doesn’t know what to do. A child, like an animal, follows its instincts. Which path would I choose on instinct? Which way do I feel is right?

  She smiled despite herself at the simplicity of this idea. Relief flowed through her. She kissed Liam on the forehead.

  “How did you manage that?” she asked him.

  It was near morning when Shallah and Liam set off into the forest, leaving the path behind them.

  They would never see it again.

  Prologue

  The dark oaks of the north were an ancient breed. Their history stretched back to the time when the trees moved at will and held dominion over the lands. They were leaders then, their mighty trunks broad with pride and hope. They kept their brothers free of disease and maintained the harmony of the forest, honouring their legendary pledge to do what was best for the wood always. They were called the Ferukai, protectors of the weak.

  Then man came, loud and clumsy, jarring the sweet calm the trees were so accustomed to.

  They brought their axes.

  When the first trunk fell the forest went into shock. Never before had they encountered such destructive will. Dozens of trunks were felled each day, their corpses dragged off to be mutilated or worse, cruelly burned. The trees watched helplessly as their numbers dwindled, as whole sections of the wood, whole families, were murdered before them. Though the Ferukaitried to reason with them, to dismiss these humans as naught but a passing hindrance, the trees would not be appeased. They resolved to go still, to take their hundred year sleep, in the hopes that when they awoke these demon men would have moved on.

  The firs were the first to give up, the maples and cedars and redwoods quickly following. In the end, the Ferukai alone retained the ability to move about, lumbering angrily through their territory, bitter at the hand they’d been dealt. How easy it would have been to follow the lead of the others and abandon themselves to sleep. But who would protect the wood while all its trees slumbered? Who would keep the humans from entering the wood in greater and greater numbers? The Ferukai vowed to remain the keepers of the forest, though it wasn’t a task they cherished, nor one they would have carried out had they been given a choice.

  Long years of solitude brought loneliness and anger into the hearts of the Ferukai. They came to hate man and begrudge their brother trees. They began to fight amongst themselves rather than against their foe. The last thing they agreed upon was to move north, for that sector of the forest was largely free of humans, it being too dark and the soil too coarse for their taste. Once the move was made, the territory was divided, and the oaks dispersed, each Ferukus taking a portion of land.

  They would not meet again for many years.

  The Ferukai became prowlers of the wood, killing anything that crossed their paths. Their only desire was for death, it overcame all else. The years passed around them as they endured, waiting for an opportunity to prove their might once and for all, to make one last stand.

  The time was approaching.

  Part 2

  Chapter Nine

  Shallah couldn’t put her finger on it. This part of the wood was like any other. Granted, it had far more undergrowth, and the trees were more densely packed. The sheer volume of the undergrowth made any advancement through the forest difficult, for the path the animals had cleared by trampling small shrubs and bushes was hardly wide enough to admit two people. Within a short time, both Shallah and Liam were covered in stinging scratches, their clothes soiled and torn from falls, their spirits dwindling.

  But this was to be expected. Without her ‘sight’ born of years of exploration, Shallah was blinder than she’d ever been on this journey. She couldn’t guide them over the safest pathways, or even choose a nice place to rest in the forest ahead. She now found herself in precisely the same position as Liam: blindly following. She might have felt anxious about it were she not so preoccupied.

  Something was different about this wood, but Shallah couldn’t put her finger on it.

  The air was colder for one thing, and the ground far less forgiving. Shallah had never been so bruised. She worried for Liam, for he’d already ripped his hose, and they hadn’t another pair to replace them. Her own kirtle was constantly getting caught on the branches of low-lying plants and she fervently wished she’d given up the ridiculous skirts for a man’s tunic, as she’d often been tempted. Why were men’s clothes so much easier to move around in? No matter how she looked at it, she couldn’t see the sense in it.

  She leaned against an oak tree as she rummaged through her satchel for their cloaks, grimacing as a knot in the bark dug into her back. Liam crouched at her feet, fingering his scrapes and gazing up at the peculiar tree. It was a squat oak, terribly short in co
mparison to the enormous trees surrounding it, its branches hanging low enough for Shallah to touch. But its trunk was startlingly wide. It appeared to have forfeited all its height for girth. Its branches were spindly and sparse, sprouting haphazardly from the massive frame, like saplings growing out of a giant rotted stump. The bark of the tree was deeply furrowed and an angry black colour. It had no leaves. It had clearly died long ago.

  As Shallah pinned Liam’s cloak under his chin, she thought she sensed a rush of movement just behind her. She held still, waiting for whatever it was to move again, but nothing happened. The wood was utterly still. She shrugged and took Liam’s hand. The little boy glanced one last time at the ugly oak as they walked away.

  Dawn had come and gone when Shallah finally realized why the wood felt so odd. Though it was nearly midmorning, the forest remained dark as night. Liam was the first to notice this of course, though Shallah commented on it soon after. She’d long ago learned to distinguish light by the warmth in the air.

  “How strange,” she said to herself. “Could it be the canopy is so dense that not a speck of light can fall through?” Liam raised his eyes to the branches above. All was dark.

  “How awful,” Shallah said. “We are all blind here.”

  She shivered.

  Exhaustion began to stalk them both like a cat stalks a mouse. Nearly a day and a half had passed since they’d had any rest. Shallah was stumbling more and more and Liam had begun to lag behind. Much as it pained Shallah to stop at all, for she was positive their pursuers would never waste time in sleep, she finally conceded that they had to rest when she caught herself dozing on her feet.

  “All right,” she said, lifting the sleepy boy into her arms. “Let’s find our bed for the night.”

  There were no clearings to be found in any direction, but within a grove of cedar trees Shallah came upon an obliging oak, its raised roots providing a comfortable resting place. In fact, she reflected, the roots were actually shaped remarkably like the seat of a reclined chair, perfect for dozing. A bed in a sea of brambles, she thought. Comfort amongst the thorns.