Elodie woke halfway from her dream, just enough to feel the fox’s tongue on her hand, and she smiled. Then she fell back to sleep.
* * *
Elodie didn’t wake again until speckles of sunlight tickled her face. She welcomed the warmth with a yawn Clarenbald’s maids would have reprimanded her for. She stretched her arms and legs, then sniffed the air. She smelled burning wood, sweet smoke, and the aroma of cooking apples...her eyes popped open.
The fox was gone. A woman sat nearby, tending to a bed of hot coals in a ring of stones. A loaf of bread warmed on a flat rock on the embers alongside a neat row of sliced apples. The woman poked at the embers with a thin stick, and as she did she sang to herself. Elodie was so perplexed, it took her a few seconds to recognize the dryad’s song.
Elodie wished she had kept the thorny branch. “Who are you?”
The woman glanced up. Her eyes were dark and colorless, like smooth pebbles from a brook. She was dressed in the durable clothes and knee-high boots of an explorer.
“I thought I might have to poke you with a stick,” said the woman. “Hungry?”
The grumblings in Elodie’s stomach triumphed over her apprehension. She moved to the opposite side of the coals. The bread and golden-brown apples made her mouth water. The woman removed the flat stone from the embers with a pair of branches and set it aside to cool.
“Where did you learn that song you were just singing?” Elodie asked.
“From a wanderer during the night. She sang it to comfort herself, but she didn’t know other ears were listening.”
Elodie didn’t like the thought of strangers creeping around her in the dark. “I was looking for a friend of mine, but I got lost. At least, that’s the short version. To be honest, I don’t even know where I am, but it’s not a pleasant place, is it?” Then she paused. “But...why are you in the woods?”
“I was looking for you. I can take you where you want to go.”
Elodie’s eyes narrowed. “How? You’re a stranger to me. Not to sound rude, but why should I trust you?”
“I know who you are. Your name is Elodie, right? You’re from Bardun Village, outside the forest. You and Martin fell into the river, and you’ve been lost ever since.” The woman pushed the food in Elodie’s direction. “Better?”
“How do you know all that?”
The woman smiled. “Word gets around.” She pointed at the food. “It’ll cool quickly. Eat up, and I’ll take you to him.”
“To Martin?”
“Yes.”
Trying not to let her excitement show too much, Elodie dug into the bread and baked apples. They were plain, but after a day and night with nothing to eat, she relished each bite. “Last night there was something watching me from the trees. Was that you?”
The woman laughed. “Why, do I smell that much like rotting bones?”
Elodie eyed the food. “No, I guess not. What was it, then?”
“Forest beasts,” said the woman. “They were doing what forest beasts do. They’re gone for now.”
“Right,” Elodie murmured. “I had the oddest dream about that.” She downed a few quick bites of food. “Where’s Martin now? Is he okay? I’ve been worried sick about him.”
“I’ll answer as many questions as I can along the way,” said the woman. “Trust me, he’s been worrying about you just as much, if not more. He created quite the ruckus in the woods yesterday, tearing around to find you. I guess I got luckier than he did.”
Elodie’s cheeks warmed. “That sounds like him. Did Martin send you?”
“No, no one sent me, but I have a knack for watching over these woods, and you needed my help. Like I said, word gets around, and I see a lot.”
“That’s both cryptic and creepy.”
The woman laughed. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m not used to answering questions about myself. We’ll talk more on the way, and I’ll be as straightforward as I can.”
Elodie ate the last bits of apple. “How far?”
“We have some distance to cover.”
“Then I’m glad you brought food. What should I call you?”
The woman tilted her head as though considering the question. “The song you hummed last night, it was about me. I’m Nayadu.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” said Elodie with a frown. “I learned that song from the dryads, but they described Nayadu as a wild and dangerous creature.”
The woman smiled apologetically. “There’s some truth to those words. I’m a shape-shifter. A morpher, they call me. It—it’s not always the prettiest, and dryad lore tends to pick out the ugly details.”
Elodie inched away. “Maybe this isn’t such a great idea.”
“No, please don’t go.” Regret flashed across the woman’s eyes. “I...I’m sorry. This is a lot for you. But you’re safe with me, I promise. The fox you found in the thicket last night? That was me. Those beasts you smelled weren’t after you, they were after me. Let me help you now.”
“Wait a minute. If you were the fox, then that means...the bear I thought was a dream...”
Nayadu nodded with a downcast gaze.
“This is such a strange, strange forest.” Elodie held her head in her hands.
“I chased off the animals last night after I regained my strength with you,” said Nayadu, “but we’re deep in their territory. I can’t guarantee they won’t be back. Come with me, and I’ll take you straight to Martin. You have my word. I promise not to do anything startling without warning you first.” She finished with a bitter grin.
Elodie considered Nayadu’s claims. Morpher or not, Nayadu was the first forest dweller to offer her genuine help and kindness, and she couldn’t turn down a chance to be with Martin again. “Okay. I’ll go with you.”
* * *
Martin lay like a stone under the oaks. Dawn approached. Birds heralded the morning somewhere in the woods, but everything stayed quiet around him. Everything except his own ragged breathing. A twig stirred under each hot breath. Martin stared at it. He didn’t want to see anything else because he already knew what he would find. He didn’t want to see the furrows clawed in the dirt, the gouges in the oak trunks, or his own hideous shape—wolfish, winged, hideous.
Even though he couldn’t see past the dirt and twigs under his face, each drawn breath stabbed at his sense of smell with more clarity than he had ever felt before. He smelled the cold approach of dawn and the roots deep in the earth. He smelled the mouse hiding in the grass, too afraid of him to twitch its nose. He smelled the birds that had already flown to safer places. But it was the smell of his matted fur that stung him the most.
The pharmacist had been right all along during those dark nights in the apothecary. There had been poison in Martin’s arm, and Martin now understood that no medicine could have cured it, not even the amputation. The poison in his blood was never going to end his life. Instead, it had transformed him into an animal.
Martin held still long enough for the poor mouse to poke its whiskers out of the ferns. He snarled at it for no reason other than not wanting to be seen by anyone or anything.
The mouse squeaked and vanished.
At length, Martin came to grips with the fact that hiding in the woods would do him no good. Bramble was gone, and as far as he could tell, no one else knew where he was. Fella. He had to find Fella. She would know what to do. She always did, more than Illo or anyone else he could think of, at least.
He shook some resolve into his limbs and stood. Even on all fours, he stood only half as tall as his human self. Martin hesitated, unsettled by the sight of a brown paw where his left hand had been so long ago. He didn’t know how or why his change had restored the hand, or paw, but at least he wouldn’t be crippled.
For the first time in days, he was glad Elodie wasn’t with him. He might as well have curled up and died if she saw him like this. His stomach dropped at the thought. What if Fella had found Elodie during the night? Would she even be able to look at him? Martin swept those worries
aside for the time being. Finding the cottage was his main concern.
To Martin’s surprise, traveling on four legs came instinctively, as though a portion of his mind had gone animal as well, a possibility he decided not to dwell on. He loped through the trees, backtracking the way he and Bramble had come from. Soon he smelled smoke. Without the pitch black of night, the rain, and his own human clumsiness to slow him down, he made quick progress.
As the rays of a gray sun cracked through the low branches, he came to the same brook that flowed past Fella’s house. From there on he didn’t have to rely on his nose to guide him. He trotted alongside the water. With each step, his shoulders slunk lower and his wings drooped closer to his sides.
He stopped to drink from the stream. Catching a shadow of his reflection was enough for him to second-guess his plan. Maybe, if he thought long enough, he could find a way to change back on his own and spare himself the shame of crawling to Fella’s door like a stray dog.
The smoke aroma thickened in the air. Martin slowed to a crawl when he first saw the gray plume trailing into the sky. Martin’s ears twitched on their own. He circled around to the front of the cottage. The lamps still burned. He crouched low, out of sight.
Illo sat by the door with her head in her hands. She didn’t move at all. Her bow lay across her feet and her quiver of arrows leaned against her side. Her hair spilled over her face and shoulders, concealing her features.
Nothing else moved around the cottage, but Martin wanted to know if the others were awake as well before showing himself. Illo coughed and stirred. She straightened, pushing hair out of her face. Then she tensed and put a hand on her bow.
Martin hunkered down, holding his breath. She smelled him. He should have realized that would give him away.
The door opened. Podgin shuffled out with a steaming dish in each hand. He passed one to Illo, then sat beside her.
“Any sign of them?”
Illo shook her head. She cupped the dish to warm her hands. “Eggs? A bit too soon for that, don’t you think?”
Martin’s heart sank. She sounded so tired.
“Eggs first thing in the morning are a taste of sunrise straight to the buds.” Podgin dug into his breakfast. Halfway through his third bite, he paused. “But I’ve never known eggs to stink like this.”
“It’s not the eggs,” said Illo.
Podgin edged away from her. “Really, Illo? That’s simply wretched.”
She punched his knee. “No, you toadstool. Something’s out there, some dead animal. I caught a whiff of it last night before Martin left.”
So they knew. Of course they did. Martin silently shifted his weight. What about the rest, though? Elodie and Fella? He had to find out.
“It’s not a boar or anything. I’ll get Aguilax to fish it out and carry it away later,” said Illo. “Where is he, anyway?”
“Sleeping under the table,” said Podgin. “I thought I’d sneeze my nose off trying to pull a chair out. Speaking of which, must you keep your bowls in the highest cupboard?”
Illo didn’t answer. She ate slowly, never looking away from the woods. Martin felt sure she would see him, but she swept over his hiding spot twice without batting an eye.
“I don’t know who to worry about more,” she said when her bowl was empty. “Martin’s an idiot and far more likely to wind up in trouble, but Fella’s my sister. She promised she’d be back soon, and she would never break a promise without good reason.”
Podgin twiddled his fingers. “Do you plan on looking for them? Search parties seem to be the trend these days.”
“I want to,” she said. “But what’s the point? At the rate things are going, I’d end up lost, and Aguilax would end up lost, and then there wouldn’t be anyone left to stop you from inhaling the pantry.”
“Gooseberries,” said Podgin. “Foiled again.”
Illo rolled her eyes as only she could. “I suppose you’ll want that spade now.”
“It can wait. The kitchen needs tidying and the cat needs waking. A broom should work for both. Who knows? Maybe we’ll all be poking fun at you over tea for fretting by the time I’m done sneezing.”
“I wouldn’t mind that,” said Illo, planting her chin in her hands.
Podgin scooped up the empty bowls and retreated into the cottage. Illo stayed put. Only the occasional sigh and glance into the trees proved she hadn’t fallen asleep again.
Martin made up his mind, deciding it was better to show himself now with only Illo outside. He perked up his ears and flattened his wings in an attempt to look a bit less like an ugly beast. This wasn’t going to be easy or pleasant.
He stepped into the clearing, his paws padding softly across the grass. Such was his inadvertent stealth that Illo only lifted her head when a fresh wave of his scent hit her.
Martin pulled up short. He had expected surprise, disgust, maybe even fear from her. But the blank look of shock on her face when she laid eyes on him caught him off guard. He had no idea what to do next. He couldn’t talk or explain himself. He hadn’t thought this through at all, and as her hand went to her bow, he realized just how much danger he had placed himself in.
Illo drew an arrow to her cheek.
Martin saw the same gleam in her eyes he had seen when she first found him in the pit—the look of a hunter before her prey. Dropping to his belly, Martin locked eyes with her. His mind grasped at ways to communicate with her, but he came up blank.
Podgin banged the door open. Illo flinched and fired. Martin rolled aside as the arrow grazed his ear and thudded into the ground beside him. He leaped into the brush. Illo pulled a second arrow from her quiver. Martin ducked behind an oak, breathless.
“Why’d you do that, Podgin?” said Illo. “I had it!”
“I was watching from the window,” the little man sputtered. “It was going to eat you.”
“No way, I would’ve gotten it first.”
Martin didn’t stick around to hear more. He fled. His legs tore up the forest floor and carried him far away from the cottage. He ran until his legs burned, and then his body took over and he flew. With a stake of shame lodged in his chest, he rammed from tree to tree until he found his balance. His mind quickly adapted to his new strengths, and soon he skimmed close to the ground as easily as a bird.
The Minnowchuck, or so he guessed, passed under him, but he kept going, driven by an irresistible urge to hide from the world. To his dismay, he found his leathery wings were built for bursts of speed and agility, not covering long distances. They tired a lot faster than he wanted them to, and he was forced to land. Now he understood how Aguilax felt after carrying people around.
Martin found shelter under a lip of stone. It wasn’t much for cover, but he was too tired to go any farther. A growl rolled in his throat. He scraped his claws down his shoulders and legs but only tore off a clump of matted fur. He curled up against the stone, out of the morning sun. His jaw rested on the ground. Exhausted and frightened, he closed his eyes and wished for it all to end.
* * *
Nayadu moved like a wraith through the forest, placing each step with effortless agility. Her body was in constant, limber motion as they passed over boulders and under toppled trees. She was one with the woods.
Elodie also became one with the woods, but in a different way. Her feet found every stone and root in the ground, and rude branches snagged her sleeves to the point where she ripped the tattered cloth from her arms just to keep the bare thread from tickling her. The dryad fabric was stained with dirt beyond washing, anyways, and she couldn’t wait to be rid of it.
She only broke the silence between them once they covered a fair distance. “Those nasty creatures from last night won’t find us on the move, will they?”
“They’re called trunders,” said Nayadu, “and if they decide to track us down, they’ll do it whether we’re moving or hiding.”
“But you’re not afraid of them.”
“I’ve learned the hard way not to be so foolis
h.”
Elodie cringed and glanced over her shoulder, just in case. “What are trunders like? I never saw them, I only smelled them.”
“Out of all the animals in the woods, trunders are some of the foulest. They fly like bats and bite like wolves, but aren’t kin to either. They’re quick when they hunt, and most don’t see them unless it’s too late.”
Elodie decided not to ask more about the trunders. She hoped she never had to face one. She did, however, want to know more about her new companion, but she couldn’t think of a way to ask questions without coming across as prying or rude.
“If you don’t mind my asking, what’s it like for you to, you know, change?”
“Uncomfortable,” said Nayadu. “It feels like wearing someone else’s coat, always too big or too small. I only morph when I have to.”
“I wish I could turn into an animal,” said Elodie. “I’d morph into the biggest bug there is and send old Clarenbald’s maids shrieking out the front door. Work would never be dull again.”
Nayadu pursed her lips, but a grin tugged at her mouth all the same. “Perhaps not, but don’t be too envious. Being a morpher is a blessing and a curse. At best, people don’t understand you. At worst, they fear and avoid you.”
“But you’re not ashamed of it, are you?”
Nayadu turned to her with a pained expression. “I’ve had to hide the truth a lot.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” said Elodie.
“You needn’t be. On the bright side, secrecy is a great way to build a reputation in this forest. To some, I’m an enigma, and that suits me fine. To others, like the dryads, I’m a monster no spear can bring down. Just imagine how convenient that’ll be if I ever have to mess with them.”
The words to the dryad song came back to Elodie. “But if you hear the shifting growl, scurry home, lad, break no vow!” She laughed. “I think I get it now.”
Where the Woods Grow Wild Page 14
