Where the Woods Grow Wild

by Nate Philbrick

  Presently she heard running water, and with no good reason not to, she altered her course and came to a shallow stream. She followed it, if only to gain a sense of consistent direction.

  The stream became a creek, and the creek led her to a deep river as clean as the mayor’s drinking water. Elodie’s hope rekindled.

  Could this be the same river she and Martin fell into by the edge of the woods? If it was, her luck had certainly changed for the better, for she wasn’t as far from Bardun Village as she had thought.

  Either way, a short rest was in order. She found a flat rock to sit on. After taking her shoes off, she splashed water on her face and let her feet cool in the shallows under her rock.

  Not far downstream, Elodie spotted a strip of boulders spanning the current, and she picked her way to them. She climbed up the first boulder and spread out her arms for balance. It wasn’t hard to hop across the rest of the way.

  On the last rock, however, a pair of shining blue orbs nestled in the leaves of a bush caught her attention. The distraction nearly spilled her into the river, but she managed to keep her footing. The pale circles blinked. Were they eyes? Yes, something was definitely watching her from the bank.

  Elodie jumped to solid ground. She had never seen eyes so round or so bright.

  “Oh dear.” The voice was small and squeaky.

  She took a step closer. “Hello?”

  “Oh dear,” said the voice again. “Mustn’t shake the leaves, mustn’t make a peep.”

  And with that the eyes vanished, the bush shook once, and the creature hidden within was gone. Elodie waited and listened, but the voice didn’t return. Puzzled, she continued on away from the river and decided not to think much of it. There were bound to be many oddities in the woods, and if she stopped to wonder at each one, she would walk herself in circles.

  When her legs tired again, Elodie noticed it was getting darker. It wasn’t the darkness of night, for it was far too early for the sun to be setting. The colors were all wrong, too. It was a gray, thick darkness, as if a dense smoke had blotted out the sun. But that wasn’t quite it either. The darkness came from the forest itself, not from the sky.

  She didn’t feel any imminent danger, and as long as she could see the ground in front of her, she didn’t see any reason why she shouldn’t keep going. She looked over her shoulder.

  Behind her, sunlight streamed down through the leaves and speckled the forest floor. Ahead of her, the shadows swallowed any light from above. Elodie fixed Martin’s face in her mind and imagined his voice. It beckoned to her from the darkness. She followed it.

  8. Poisoned Veins

  Once across the lake, Martin didn’t talk much. Neither did the others. Podgin went through a few bouts of sneezing, each followed by a string of complaints, but any attempts at actual conversation fell short. They were tired. Aguilax kept his head low and his wings folded. Illo wouldn’t complain about her own discomfort, but Martin knew her shoulder hurt more than she let on. All things considered, Martin didn’t mind the silence. It gave him time to clear his head and grasp at a fresh perspective.

  Nearly a full day had passed since Martin and Elodie got swept into the forest world. Percy had surely noticed Martin’s absence in the Cabbage Cart by now, but the dishes would be stacked halfway to the ceiling before Hergelo Stump realized he was missing a worker. Martin imagined a knot of Mayor Clarenbald’s clucking maids huddled outside Elodie’s tiny room in the attic, trying to outdo each other with whispered theories about Elodie’s disappearance, none of which would be remotely close to the truth.

  It would take a few days for any sort of alarm to be raised and even more time for Martin’s mother in Aldenturf to get word of trouble. Even though Martin had already failed twice, he hoped to get Elodie back safely before creating too much of a stir.

  When they were a safe distance from the dryad palace, Martin called out Elodie’s name every few minutes. He hoped they had been quick enough to catch up with her, but he heard no response, and that window of opportunity swung shut in his face.

  Illo and Aguilax found the river by midmorning, a strip of boulder-strewn water cutting through the woods from east to west.

  “This is the Minnowchuck,” said Illo. “It’s as far as we have clues. Past this point we’re out of luck.”

  “As if we had any to begin with,” said Podgin.

  “We know she didn’t go back,” offered Martin. “So she either crossed and kept going or decided to follow upstream or downstream.”

  “That’s not much help,” said Illo. “I’m afraid this is slipping out of our hands pretty quickly. I don’t mean to make you panic, but crossing the Minnowchuck isn’t a smart idea. Compared to the tangled mess over there, this side is pretty tame. None of us have ever been across, but they say it gets ugly. We won’t do anyone any favors plowing in unprepared.”

  Martin’s grip tightened on the dryad spear. “It doesn’t look any different from here. Elodie can’t be that far ahead. We were so close at the palace. If we split up, we may bump into her.”

  “Are you even listening to me? That’s not how the forest works,” said Illo. “You should know that by now. When you’re alone, you don’t control the woods. The woods control you.”

  He stared at the river. “I think she crossed. No, I know she did. She doesn’t know we’re catching up to her, and the river is one more obstacle to put between her and the dryads.”

  “That makes an unfortunate amount of sense,” said Aguilax.

  Podgin rubbed his hands together. “I’d rather have my head stuffed in a pillow full of hen feathers than set foot on the other side. I’ve seen the sketches in Forest Flora and Fauna.”

  “No one’s making you stay,” said Martin.

  Podgin eyed the river warily. “This game of fox-and-grouse is dragging out, is all I’m saying. And my feet are cramping up.”

  “We’ll find her.”

  “Will we?” Illo crossed her arms. “Face the facts, Martin. We have no more leads, and we’re in no shape to blindly traipse around. Look at us. We’re exhausted. We’re running out of food. And I shouldn’t have to remind you, but some of us are hurt. We didn’t know what we were getting into when we set out. It’s time to go home.”

  “And give up?”

  “I didn’t say that.” She winced and grabbed her shoulder. Her voice softened. “Fella can patch me up. We’ll have a hot meal, rest, and new resources. We’ll figure out the best way to start over. Elodie’s probably in better shape than we are.”

  “After everything we’ve gone through, I find that hard to believe,” said Martin. “I’m going across even if no one comes with me.”

  Aguilax and Podgin stood back, watching.

  Illo jabbed a finger at him. “You’re as stubborn as a log.”

  “At least I care enough to try. You know what? Just go. You don’t owe me anything anymore. I don’t need you. I can—”

  It happened again. No warning. No build-up. Just a deep stab of pain ramming down his arm. It struck him like a hammer, and he hit the ground before he even realized he was falling. His mouth split open. He saw their wide-eyed faces above him for a moment, and then his vision darkened. A bitter taste surged from his stomach to his mouth.

  The attack passed. In a fetal position on the ground, he sucked in gulps of air. The pain throbbed, dimmed, and trickled away. His knees buckled when he stood.

  Illo held him up. “We’re going back.”

  * * *

  The return journey to the cottage was miserable and slow. Illo stayed upset the whole way, and Martin didn’t have the strength to talk to her. He would have been angry as well, but even though the pain in his arm was gone, he broke out into a feverish sweat soon after leaving the Minnowchuck behind.

  From that point on he felt worse and worse. His eyes watered constantly, his shirt stuck to his skin, and more than once he nearly pitched forward on top of Podgin.

  He didn’t know what was happening to him. Memories
of the long nights in the apothecary came to mind, memories he had kept packed away until now.

  He missed Elodie. He wanted her beside him.

  Fortunately, their expedition from Podgin’s earth bank to the dryad palace and then to the river had taken them in a broad loop. Instead of backtracking, they cut across in a straight line.

  It only took them a few hours to reach the cottage, but they were the longest hours of Martin’s life. By the time the thatch roof and chimney appeared through the trees, his legs hardly held him up.

  Fella met them at the door. She ushered them inside and had him sit at the table so she could take a look at his arm. She held his stub with a gentleness he didn’t think Illo would ever be able to muster.

  Fella and Illo talked quietly together, and then Fella sent him to a spare room to rest on a wide bed under the open window. Martin stayed there through a meal he couldn’t eat, a wordless visit from a bandaged Illo with fresh water, and a one-sided conversation about feathers with Podgin. Fella brought him warm tea of her own concoction. Martin drank it without questions.

  His hand felt clammy and slick, so he pulled off the brass ring. Staring at it only made him worry more about Elodie. He set in the stool by the bed. At one point he slept. It was the kind of sleep in which his body shut down but his mind kept worrying. When he woke, he was even glummer than before, but he no longer felt feverish and his stomach had stopped churning.

  He lifted himself from the cot and found the rest of the cottage empty. Illo’s bow wasn’t in its spot by the door, there was no sign of Fella or Aguilax, and the only evidence Podgin had even been there was a lingering smell of mushrooms. There was, however, a scrap of brown paper on the table. He snatched it up and read it.

  Out searching. Keep resting.

  And don’t even think about following!

  Each line had different penmanship. The first was curved and elegant, while the second had been hastily scribbled and punctuated aggressively. It wasn’t hard to figure out who had written what, and he grinned despite himself.

  Hunger drove him to the cupboards. He helped himself to bread and sweet butter and drank enough water from the brook to fill the soup pots in the Cabbage Cart. When he was done, he watched a square of light cross the floor inch by inch as the sun passed by the window. Then he waited while the room turned from bright yellow to flaming orange to dusky purple. The sun winked out. He was almost too tired to be anxious. He told himself Illo and the others would return any minute, and that Elodie would be with them.

  Martin must have dozed off again at the table, for he dreamed of Elodie. It wasn’t specific enough for him to remember much about it when he woke. All he knew was she had been in it somehow, and waking from it left him with a hollow feeling inside.

  He sat with his arms folded on the table and his head resting in the crook of his elbow. The house was dark, though, so he poked around for candles without success.

  Then he heard voices outside.

  “Will you stop whimpering already?” Illo’s tone was unmistakable. “Quit being a pastry-headed pansy.”

  “Excuse me,” retorted Podgin, “I’m in too much pain to pay you any attention right now.”

  “I can’t believe you let him go.”

  “He bit me.”

  “He barely has teeth!”

  “I have sensitive hands.”

  “The scamp could’ve told us everything. He looks about as clever as a hardboiled rock, but he sees a lot and schemes even more. Trust me.”

  “Never mind the fact that he probably gave me a life-ending disease.”

  “We should be so lucky,” snapped Illo. “Let me look at that. See? You’re not even bleeding.”

  Podgin sniffled. Their footsteps came up to the door. Martin gave a sigh that didn’t come close to expressing his disappointment.

  Illo stomped in first. Her quiver bore fewer arrows than Martin had last seen in it, and there was a nasty streak of something on her face. He hoped it was mud. Podgin wallowed in behind her, sucking on his hand like his life depended on it.

  Illo struck a flame and lit a candle on a shelf—the first place Martin should have looked. Only then did she notice him seated at the table.

  “Oh. You’re awake.”

  “And alive,” added Podgin. “That’s a healthy combination.”

  “I found your note,” said Martin.

  Illo fidgeted with her bow. The string was still drawn. “Right. About that.”

  “It’s okay. I know you didn’t find her.”

  “We covered as much ground as we could. Lord Lardfingers here backtracked towards the dryad palace, just in case. Nothing. Aguilax and Fella are still out there, but I’ll pickle my own ears if they find anything at night.”

  “Illo, please,” said Podgin. “That’s disgusting. Can’t you see we have visitors?”

  She ignored him. “Podgin and I happened to meet up under the almond tree, and guess who we found sneaking around? Your little floppy-eared friend, that’s who.”

  “Bramble?”

  “Call him what you will. He’s a sneak, and he was listening to us from the almond tree. Podgin grabbed him, and we asked him to tell us why he was eavesdropping and being a general nuisance. All he would say is ‘oh dear, oh dear’ and something about peeps and leaves. He got away, and now we won’t get any answers from him.”

  “I would like to reiterate the fact that he bit me,” said Podgin.

  “Stop complaining. I’ve thrown you out the window before, and I’ll do it again in a heartbeat.”

  Podgin shut his mouth and rubbed his beard.

  “What’s Bramble got to do with any of this?” asked Martin. “He may not be very bright, but he’s done no harm.”

  “Yes, well, we thought the dryad king wasn’t very bright either, and look what happened.”

  At that moment there was a rush of wings outside. Aguilax hopped through the open window.

  “Anything?” asked Illo.

  “I went all the way to Willow Pond,” said the cat. “No sign of Elodie in that direction.”

  “It was worth checking,” muttered Illo.

  “Where’s Fella?”

  “Not back yet.”

  Martin left them to their updates and went outside. The cool air felt good on his skin. The trees were little more than blue blotches in the dark. He sat by the brook, staring into the shadows. He tried to empty his mind long enough to think of a new plan, but he was so full of whirling thoughts it was like trying to bail a sinking boat with a kitchen ladle.

  “She’ll be all right, you know.” Illo let the door shut softly and joined him.

  “What makes you so sure?” Martin unfastened the leather sleeve and rubbed dirt and sweat from his forearm.

  “She bested the dryad king and inspired you to tear up a forest for her. She must be pretty special.”

  Martin’s face flushed. “She is. I, on the other hand, am a clumsy, stubborn hog-moggins.”

  “Yes, you are.” She elbowed him in the side. “But you’re a decent one. Elodie’s lucky to have you looking out for her.”

  “I’m doing a terrible job at it.”

  Illo fidgeted beside him. “Look...I owe you an apology. Probably several. You were right about me. I didn’t want to help you find Elodie, not at first. I didn’t think it was my problem.”

  “It wasn’t,” said Martin.

  “There’s not much in the woods that scares me anymore,” she went on. “Bog boars, sting finches, dryads...those are all things I’m familiar with. They’re dangerous, but I can assert myself over them. But your arm? That scares me, because I don’t know what it is or how to stop it.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “Right. But that’s what changed my mind about you, watching you get back up and keep going. So I’m sorry for being selfish. And I want you to know I’ll stick with you until we find Elodie.”

  “Thank you,” said Martin. “I appreciate that.”

  She let out a breat
h. “I hope so, because it was hard as nails for me to say all that.”

  Martin shook his head with a smile, even though she couldn’t see it. “How’s your shoulder?”

  “Fella cleaned it out. I almost screamed. But it’s better now. I hope it scars. Battle wounds aren’t worth the trouble if you can’t show off the scars afterward.”

  “I’m not sure those count as battle wounds.”

  She punched his arm. “Don’t rob me of my glory, Martin, or next time I might not save your skin.”

  They sat together quietly for some time. Martin hoped Fella would come back soon, though he knew not to get his hopes up until morning.

  Martin sniffed. There was a warm, stale stench in the breeze.

  Illo crinkled her nose and turned away. “I’ve had enough. If Podgin’s going to stick around, he simply must have a bath.”

  “I don’t think that’s it,” said Martin.

  She smelled again. “You’re right. That’s an animal of some kind. If it gets any closer I’ll put it out of its filthy misery.”

  The smell passed with no wild animal appearances.

  “Will Fella be safe out there?” Martin asked.

  “You don’t have to worry about her,” said Illo. “When it comes down to it, Fella’s braver, stronger, and especially wiser than I am, and I don’t mind admitting it.”

  “But...she looks so ordinary.”

  “Shows how much you know her, doesn’t it? I’ll let you in on a secret. Fella and I aren’t actually biological sisters. As a matter of fact, she raised me. She taught me how to read and write, and how to climb trees shoot an arrow straight enough to split a dewdrop.”

  “Don’t you have parents?”

  Illo hesitated. “I don’t remember them very much. We lived here in the cottage, us and Aguilax. I’ve never known any other home. One day I was playing in the woods, and a sage viper bit me. My parents couldn’t do anything, so they ran for help. They never came back.”