Where the Woods Grow Wild

by Nate Philbrick

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Like I said, I don’t remember much. Not enough to miss them, really. Aguilax was just a kitten when they left. He took care of me as much as he could, but I got worse. I would’ve died if it weren’t for Fella. Just like my parents went into the woods, she came out of them, and she stayed. I guess you could say she adopted me as her little sister.”

  “What about Podgin?”

  Illo chuckled. “He wandered through our neck of the woods not long after Fella showed up, and decided to stick around. He likes company more than he’ll ever admit. Besides, enough truffle patches pop up around here to keep him busy.”

  “It’s odd, picturing all that,” said Martin. “I never thought people lived in the woods, much less dryads and whatnot.”

  “Apparently there’s a lot you town people don’t know.”

  Martin thought of Hergelo Stump and Percy Durbity and the others, as ignorant about the forest as he used to be. “One last question.”

  “Knock yourself out,” said Illo. “You’re on a roll.”

  “Why does Bramble keep calling you the servant of Nayadu?”

  Illo snorted. “Does he? I wouldn’t know if my life depended on it. Honestly, Bramble’s a few gears short of a clock, if you know what I mean. I wouldn’t be surprised if he makes stuff up to entertain himself and ends up believing it.”

  Stifling a yawn, she stood. “I don’t know about you, but I need sleep. Fella will wake us if she has news to share when she gets back. If not, we’ll put our heads together and make a new plan first thing in the morning. You have my word.”

  * * *

  Martin had no dreams throughout the rest of the night. He slept like a rock in the spare room. When he woke, he fully expected sunlight to be streaming through the window, but as he rubbed his bleary eyes he realized it was still the dead of night. The blankets from his bed had found their way to the floor halfway across the room, and his arms and legs were cold. But that wasn’t what had woken him. He sat up and coughed.

  Then something hit him in the face. A puff of dust exploded in his nose. He snorted and sputtered, clawing at his stinging eyes. A small, floppy-eared form hopped around on the windowsill.

  “Bramble?” Martin looked back and forth between the little creature and the brown cloud settling around him. “Did you just throw a puffernut at me?”

  “Bramble is sorry,” said the dark shape in the window, “but Martin is a very deep snore-sleeper, and Bramble had to wake him somehow. Moving the snuggle-blanket did not work, and poking did not work. Bramble did what Bramble had to do.”

  “But I don’t snore.”

  Bramble simply blinked.

  “Did you really bite Podgin?”

  “The mushroom-man tried to throttle Bramble,” he said with a shiver. “Bramble was afraid for his life, but Bramble will never do it again.” He wiped his tongue off to prove his point.

  “Why were you sneaking around by the almond tree?”

  “Martin mustn’t waste time asking questions. Must come with Bramble right away, nifty-nimble. Bramble has found the sun-drop girl!”

  Martin was on his feet in a flash. He dashed across the room and whipped his socks and shoes on. “Where? Where did you find her? Is she alright?”

  “Maybe Bramble didn’t actually find the sun-drop girl, but—”

  “You just said...”

  Bramble held out his hand. Clutched in his fingers was a length of blue cloth, soiled and tattered and ripped.

  “That’s Elodie’s shawl. What happened to her?”

  “Must follow Bramble.”

  “Tell me where she is and I’ll fly there if I have to.”

  Bramble pointed into the dark forest. “That way. That is where the sun-drop girl is. Must hurry! Mustn’t diddly-daddly. Sun-drop girl is in danger.”

  “Danger from what?”

  No answer. Bramble merely waggled his ears and tapped his foot. “Follow Bramble.”

  “Give me half a minute,” said Martin. “I’ll need a weapon. The spear Nettle the dryad gave me! I left it by the door, I think.”

  “Mustn’t waste time looky-searching. Mustn’t wake the others.”

  “Why not? If Elodie’s in danger, I need all the help I can get.”

  Bramble hopped down from the ledge and spoke in a hushed voice. “Mustn’t trust the servants of Nayadu.”

  “None of us know what that means. Don’t make things up.”

  The blue eyes widened. “Mustn’t tell a lie.”

  “That’s right.” Martin knew he shouldn’t leave by himself, but if Elodie was in danger, there wasn’t a moment to lose, and rousing the others might take too long. “Take me to her.”

  Bramble hopped out the window and disappeared. Martin climbed out after him. He followed Bramble across the garden, over the brook, and into the trees.

  “How far is she?”

  Bramble put a finger to his lips. “Shh. Mustn’t make a peep.”

  The moment the lights from the lamps hanging around the cottage winked out behind the trees, the woods became a swirl of black ink. Martin pulled up short.

  “Bramble, wait. This is ridiculous. I can’t see at all.”

  Bramble pattered back to him. “Bramble forgot that Martin’s eyes cannot peeky-see in the dark.”

  “I can grab a lamp,” said Martin. “I’m sure Fella wouldn’t mind if we borrowed one.”

  “Mustn’t go back,” said Bramble with a squeak. “Mustn’t take any chances. Many hungry animals will come sniffy-snapping if Martin carries a light. But Bramble can be Martin’s eyes, and Martin can be Bramble’s feet.”

  Furry hands and feet hooked in Martin’s clothes. Bramble scooted up his side and sat on his shoulder. He weighed about as much as a kitten.

  “Martin can follow Bramble’s directions without whacky-walking into trees.”

  Martin took a few tentative steps. “Why do I have the feeling we’ll end up walking off a cliff? But I guess we can give it a try, if you promise you’re telling the truth about Elodie.”

  “Bramble promises. Mustn’t tell a lie.”

  Navigating the woods all but blind was a frustrating endeavor. Bramble’s guidance and frequent warnings kept Martin clear of the trees, but even Bramble’s sharp eyes couldn’t catch all the roots and low branches. And even though Bramble wasn’t heavy, he turned out to be a cumbersome passenger. He bounced incessantly on Martin’s shoulder, clinging to Martin’s neck, hair, and ears so as to not tumble off.

  However, once they put an hour or so between them and the cottage, Bramble began to relax a little. After slogging through a bed of cold ferns Bramble had failed to point out, Martin asked again which way they were going.

  “To the north,” said Bramble. “Must cross the Minnychucky.”

  “The Minnowchuck? So I was right all along! I knew Elodie had crossed. If it hadn’t been for my stupid arm...”

  “Windy-woods past the river aren’t safe for Martin and the sun-drop girl. Must be careful!”

  “Illo told me that part of the forest wasn’t safe for anyone.”

  He fully expected Bramble to make a cryptic remark about the servants of Nayadu, but Bramble spent his next breath directing him around a steep bank. They never got back on the topic.

  Martin wished he had insisted on bringing the dryad spear. That wasn’t his chief concern, though. Lack of sleep and his awkward, high-step pace taxed his energy faster than he wanted to admit. Even though he didn’t remember much about the feverish walk from the Minnowchuck to Fella’s cottage, he knew it would take them a few hours to reach the river unless Bramble knew shorter paths. Martin longed for a road to follow or even fields or farmlands to cross.

  To make matters worse, thick clouds rolled in from behind them and wiped out what precious little moonlight filtered through the trees. Soon a light rain pattered on the leaves.

  “Wonderful,” said Martin. “It just had to be tonight.”

  “Bramble would be happy to find
a hollow-cave to wait in until the drizzle drips elsewhere.”

  “No, I won’t stop. It’s only water.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  The sprinkling became a steady rain. Despite the trees overhead, Martin was soaked within minutes. Wet grass and slick roots forced him to slow down. Bramble whimpered on his shoulder, wringing out his ears.

  “How much farther?” Martin asked.

  “Bramble has guided Martin down every shortcut Bramble knows, but Bramble is afraid there will be more sponge than Bramble before the Minnychucky.”

  Martin gritted his teeth, blinked rainwater from his eyes, and pushed on. He envied Illo and the others, all warm and dry in their beds. He wondered if Fella had made it back already, or if the downpour had caught her out for his sake.

  To his relief, the rain didn’t last long. The cloud cover stayed, but the drumming eased into a gentle tapping in the leaves. Martin slowed to a stop under an oak, his feet squishing with each step.

  “Am I still going the right way?”

  Bramble switched shoulders. “Bramble knows this part of the woods well, and Martin is not far from the Minnychucky now. Bramble will lead Martin on!”

  Five steps later, the inevitable happened. Martin’s shoulder struck a tree, sending him swerving. His foot found a wet root, and the next thing he knew he was on his face in the grass and mud. Bramble sailed off his shoulder and rolled into the tree roots.

  Martin spat out a clump of dirt. “I thought you were paying attention!”

  “Bramble is sorry! Bramble was squeezing water from Bramble’s ears.”

  Martin pushed himself to his knees. “This night is going to be the end of me. Are you okay?”

  “Bramble has knocked his tenderness on a knobby-knot, but Bramble will live.”

  “Good. Let’s...”

  A familiar feeling flared in his wrist. It was slow this time. The itch, then the ache, then the fire, working up his arm from the veins in his wrist.

  “Great,” said Martin, bracing himself. “Not this again.”

  The warning pains rolled through his flesh and bone like distant thunder, but the real attack struck like a lightning bolt, driving Martin back to the earth.

  Bramble scampered to his side. “What is Martin doing?”

  “Just...give me a sec.” Martin spat out the words.

  He fought to keep control of his senses this time, but it was a battle quickly lost. He clamped his arm under his chest and curled his legs before going as stiff as an iron pot. He retreated into himself, waiting for the pain to pass.

  But it didn’t. It got worse. His muscles stretched. He groaned and twisted in the mud. A guttural shout passed through his lips, but he heard nothing, nothing but one haunting sound, the sound of beating wings. With the last ounce of resistance left in him, Martin cracked his eyes open.

  Bramble backed away from him, his eyes round and scared. Then he turned and ran into the night.

  Claws raked at Martin’s mind. Fangs closed around the hand that wasn’t there. His body changed even as he teetered on the edge of consciousness. Fur, claws, wings—he was an animal. Each beat of his heart was a battering ram to his ribs. The final blow struck, tipping him over the edge. All went black. All went silent. He gave up.

  9. Flight to the Minnowchuck

  Elodie wandered down a gradual slope into a shallow valley. Fog rose from the damp ground, which was soft and thick with moss. The trees groped at each other with twisted branches, and tangles of thorny thickets gnawed at their roots. Lizards scuttled across the path without a care in the world.

  Elodie was lost. Once on the other side of the river, she had tried to keep her course straight in the hopes of eventually breaking free of the woods, but it didn’t take long for her to conclude that she had crossed a different river altogether. Instead of backtracking to the forest boundaries, she had delved deeper in.

  Elodie knew that, when lost, the best way to be found was to remain in one place and wait for people to come to you. Here, however, she didn’t think that rule applied. No one was looking for her except Martin, and she didn’t see how sitting still would speed up the process.

  She tried to go back to the river. Risking a second encounter with dryads seemed better than spending the rest of her life drifting through an endless forest. By that time, however, her sense of direction had gotten thoroughly muddled. She couldn’t find the river anywhere. Blisters stung on her feet, her legs ached, and she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast with Nub.

  To make matters worse, the sun was going down. Daylight was fading, and if she didn’t find help quickly, she would have to spend the night out in the cold. At least in the dryad palace she had had a room to keep her warm. There was no telling what further misfortune awaited her in the woods.

  Elodie kept moving, seeking a shelter for the night. Fog rose from the ground. It swirled at her feet, then her legs, and finally around her middle. It didn’t part and float away when she walked through it, as she expected fog to behave, but instead it wrapped around her so snuggly that she couldn’t see her own feet.

  She wouldn’t have been surprised to find a giant ladling thick billows of mist like soup from a pot. A bird with black feathers alighted on a branch nearby and squawked. Elodie jolted and put her hand to her drumming heart.

  She glared at the bird. “Don’t do that.”

  The black bird squawked once more in defiance and flapped away. Elodie waited until it was gone before moving again. Now she eyed the trees around her warily, expecting something worse than a bird to jump out.

  At last she gave up and sat with her back against a tree and pulled her knees to her chest. The sun blinked out. Walking around at night sounded like a terrible idea, so Elodie tried to sleep. Though she was physically exhausted, her mind kept her awake with thoughts of Martin, clean clothes, and her warm room. She wanted to be home.

  For a long time she hugged her knees, staring at the ground between her feet. Clouds covered the sky and rain broke the fog. Elodie’s tree shielded her from the brunt of the downpour, and the rain soon moved on. The woods weren’t as eerie without the fog, but she wished she could sleep the night away.

  Elodie hummed the tune of the dryad song to keep her imagination from filling the trees with unpleasant creatures. She wasn’t too keen on the words about Nayadu the shape-shifter, given her circumstances, but humming was better than listening to the dry whispers of the branches all night.

  A foul smell seeped into the air. Elodie curled her nose. Leaves rustled at her feet. Something large flew nearby, beating its wings in a rapid rhythm. She forgot the song in an instant. There was no other sound. No branches cracking, no footsteps, no croaking or cawing of birds. Just the wings.

  Elodie clenched her hands into fists. “I’m not scared of the dark,” she whispered. “I’m not scared of the dark. I’m not scared...”

  The wings drew closer and the stench intensified. Her instincts told her to run, but she was afraid of what might follow her if she did.

  Then Elodie heard a new sound. It was small, the kind that stands out all the more for being soft when all else is loud. A whimper, a whine. An animal in pain or fear. Elodie listened closely, and heard it again. The animal wasn’t far.

  It took every ounce of bravery left in her to hobble away from her tree. The whimpering continued. She followed it deeper into the thickets and thorns, deeper into the stench of stale breath.

  Not far from her tree, she found a thick hedge of prickly bushes, and all the way under it, so far in that she had to lie flat on her stomach to reach it, was a fox. The trapped animal stopped whimpering the moment it saw her. The fox flattened its ears and hissed.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, silly,” said Elodie. “You’ve got to let me get you out of there.”

  Branches creaked above and behind her, and she recognized her mistake. The fox wasn’t hissing at her. Elodie slowly stood. Something lurked behind her. She turned around. The forest kept still, but she knew it
was out there. Watching her. Waiting.

  “I—I’m not afraid of you.” She snapped a dry branch from the thicket, ignoring the thorns pricking her palm. She squared up in front of the fox’s hiding place. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re there. You smell worse than Clarenbald’s dirty socks.”

  Nothing happened. The smell faded. Elodie counted out a full minute in her head before dropping her makeshift weapon and letting out a long breath.

  She got down on her stomach again and inched forward. She scooped her hand under the fox’s stomach and pulled it out from under the thicket. The fox shivered in her arms. She comforted it, running her hands up and down its back. Her fingers came up sticky and wet.

  “You poor thing.” She held the fox close to her chest. “I wish you could tell me what happened to you. I’d be able to help you a lot better if I know what was out there, but I’m as lost as you are.”

  Elodie took the fox back to her tree, surprised she was able to find it again. She cradled the fox in her lap. It curled up and licked its wounds.

  “At least we’re not alone anymore,” said Elodie.

  The fox kept licking.

  She smiled. “You probably have a home around here, maybe even a family waiting up for you. I won’t keep you if you need to get back to them. As long as you stay out of more trouble.”

  Elodie’s eyelids grew heavy. The fox stayed on her lap, awake and vigilant, its ears turned to the forest around them. Elodie fell asleep.

  The forest turned against her in her dreams. Shadows of hidden animals closed in around her from all sides. She had no escape, but neither could she stand. The creatures drew the circle tighter and tighter.

  One of the animal shadows broke from the circle and charged at her, roiling along the forest floor like a ball of smoke. She braced herself for the collision, but a towering form appeared before her. It had the shape of a bear, but its contour glowed like a dawning horizon. The bear swatted aside the animal shadows with one sweep of its powerful arm.

  Elodie pressed herself against the tree, wary of the bear. The bear, however, paid her no heed. It paced in front of Elodie’s tree, huffing at the forest. Then it towered on two legs and roared. When the roar died, the glow around the bear winked out. Bathed in the dark night once again, Elodie only saw the bear’s lumbering form as it melted into the woods.