by Holly Hook
But Macon wasn't listening. He knew everything, after all. He waved us behind him. "If we walk quickly, we will make it to the other side okay. Hurry."
Tate shrugged at me. "We need to stay close together," he said.
We held hands, and I gulped. Macon stepped over the threshold, and we followed. The dread feeling socked me in the stomach and I had to take in a breath. If this was just a dark spot, how bad was the actual dark region?
We passed under the hornet nests, and a few of the bugs buzzed around them, but these were higher up than the last one, and nothing zipped down at us. Maybe they were too high to detect us this time.
I walked as fast as I could without running. My skin pricked and started to itch again. It was happening all over. Maybe the dark region made you go crazy. I scratched my arm. I might be getting some rash. Tate faced me. "Keep going," he said. The itch got worse by the second, and it took all I had to avoid scratching.
And then the rustling returned.
And it was closer. Much closer.
The tall grass and the thorned weeds shifted next to us, and a russet form emerged. A tail rose, and I grabbed onto Tate and pulled him towards the middle of the road.
Macon was the last to notice. He whirled around. Cocked his arrow, ready to shoot.
A lone wolf stood there on the edge of the road, staring at us.
I waited for it to lunge. I knew I should run, but I couldn't. The wolf stared. There was a hint of red in its eyes, but it didn't growl.
Good day, Red.
The voice of a young man echoed in my mind, and I flinched.
Where are you heading?
It was speaking to me in my mind, and its voice was so friendly that I couldn't help but relax just a little. But then I remembered that this was the wolf who was supposed to try to lead me off the trail so it could cut ahead and eat my grandmother. It had to be. I couldn't listen to him. It even knew my name.
"It's none of your business," I said. I was shocked at how brave I sounded.
"Huh?" Tate asked. "Did it say something?"
Was I the only person who could hear this wolf talking to me? Maybe I was the only one because this was my story, but why not Macon? He stood there, waiting to let that arrow fly, but the wolf didn't seem to mind. Macon's arm trembled, and his eyes shone with fear. So much for that brave guy.
I asked, where are you heading on this beautiful day?
It was part of the story. I was supposed to tell the wolf where my grandmother was, and then it would trick me and make me stall out here. Wasn't it supposed to trick me into going to pick flowers? But all I saw here in this dark spot were dead shrubs and some things that might be black tulips, but nothing else. It couldn't convince me to pick my grandmother a bunch of dry weeds, could it?
The wolf took one step closer but didn't come onto the trail. Couldn't Macon the master hunter hit it already?
You are heading somewhere, the wolf said. Yes. It was speaking to me in my head. At least its mouth wasn't moving. It is dangerous up that way. More dark spots lie ahead. The magician, Alric, has set up a trap for you.
"What?" I asked.
He has, the wolf said. It is a terrible trap that will keep your story from ending well. If he wins, this entire forest will turn dark.
"But isn't that what you want?" I asked the wolf.
"Red, are you seriously talking to it?" Tate asked. "I'm getting a little scared here."
I snorted. It was a delayed reaction, considering that this wolf could leap at us and tear out our throats if it wanted. But the wolf sat down. Had he even noticed Macon pointing that arrow at him?
Not all of us wolves are with Alric, he said. We are not evil. We do not want to see you go to him. If you let his darkness consume you, this entire forest will fall, and we will all be his slaves. Even now, the dark spot tries to work on me.
The wolf's eyes were a little redder now. A little scarier. I saw the struggle in them.
"What do you mean?" I asked. I knew I should be scared of this wolf, but I wasn't. Maybe that was part of my story. I had to be tricked, after all. The wolf looked right up at me. The black pushed back against the red like he was trying to hold something wild and scary back.
Don't do anything unwise, the wolf begged. Your grandmother needs you.
And then a second wolf emerged from the underbrush. This one was black and majestic as the first, but before it had the chance to speak, Macon freaked out.
"Go away!" he shouted. "Go away! I'll shoot you both!"
The first wolf got up and turned away. Both bounded back through the trees and vanished into the gloom.
"What did you do that for?" I asked. "Those wolves weren't threatening us."
Macon turned on me and lowered the bow. "What were they saying to you?" he asked. "Animals can talk to us in Fable, but they seemed to only talk to you."
The itching on my skin worsened. It was getting unbearable. "The wolves told me Alric has some trap set up on the trail ahead," I said. "They told us to find a way around."
The wolf was trying to lead me off the trail. It wasn't with flowers, but with something much scarier.
"I knew that would happen," Macon said. "Here's the thing. We need to stay on the trail. The wolves are always liars in our story. They're always plotting against us."
I took a breath. The wolves hadn't seemed evil, but maybe that was part of my story, too. I needed to stay on the trail. I needed to listen to Mary. I faced the ominous woods. There was no way I should even think of going through there. The dread feeling in my stomach got worse just thinking about it.
If I did that, the wolf would go and eat my grandmother. It might even be doing that right now.
But what if this time, the story got twisted and Alric was trying to trick me? Maybe he wanted me to go down the trail, and there was a trap. Things were different in Fable than they used to be, after all.
"We should continue," Macon said. "Before they come back."
"I thought you were a master hunter," Tate told him.
The pressure was building. I could feel it in the air. It was going to be an ugly rest of the trip. And my skin was itching worse than ever. I practically clawed at myself and grimaced. "We have to move," I said. "Get out of this dark spot."
Macon stared at me for a while like he wanted to say something, but then he turned and waved us along. Tate and I followed and at last, we got to the other side of the dark spot and the trees became alive and happy again. Tate had his fists clenched. Maybe the dark spots brought out the worst in people too--but those wolves hadn't been attacking us.
I watched the forest as we walked, but they didn't return. I was almost disappointed.
"Knock it off, Red," I told myself.
"What?" Tate asked.
"Nothing," I said. I had to keep with the story to make sure it ended right. But even though we were out of the dark spot, the dread remained. That meant letting myself get eaten by the wolf so Macon could have his moment of glory and cut my grandmother and me out. Then I'd have to thank him.
But what if the wolves were telling the truth?
I had to stick to the trail. I should believe the wise Mary over them any day.
The gloom got worse as we walked, even though we didn't encounter any more dark spots. It was getting close to nightfall. Macon picked up his pace and went quiet. So did I. It was bliss when the guy wasn't talking.
"Um, don't we need shelter for the night?" Tate asked.
"Actually," Macon said. I groaned inside. "We can always climb a tree for the night. Most creatures here in Fable don't climb. The wolves certainly don't. Neither do the wild boars or the bears."
"The what?" I asked.
"The bears," he said. "We can start looking for a tree now. Your grandmother's cottage is still a good walk ahead."
Chapter Seven
Macon kept scoping the place out for the perfect tree that would protect us for the night. I hung back with Tate. The wolves didn't return. I almost missed th
em. I wanted them to come back. They hadn't even gotten the chance to finish talking to me, after all.
Things might not be as they seemed. Mary had said that, too.
"I think I see the perfect tree up ahead," Macon said. "We can get up that and stay there for the entire night. I've slept in trees lots of times and never had any problems. My uncle used to say that you needed a shelter, but I've proven him wrong so many times that he had to take it back. The man didn't know what to think when I told him how it was."
"I think Tate and I can find our tree," I said. "I mean, one tree won't fit all three of us. We should find separate trees."
"Here's the thing," Macon said, holding up a finger.
"Separate trees!" Tate shouted.
Macon jumped back, shocked that someone would dare interrupt his wisdom.
"We'll both stay close to the trail," Tate said.
"And we'll call you if we need you," I finished. "As long as we stay close to the trail, we should be okay. There aren't any dark spots right here. We should be fine." The hornet sting still burned on my back. The thing would stay swollen for days. "You go on that side of the trial, and we'll be on this side. That will give us a better lookout."
"Actually--"
"We'll take this tree," I said, walking to the closest one off the trail. No dread feeling socked me in the stomach. "This one will work for Tate and me. Me and Tate. If you climb up this, the branches will snap."
And I turned my back on Macon before he could start arguing again.
He said nothing and stalked off across the trial and to another tree that probably could have fit all three of us. I watched his green form climb up, and his bow got caught on a couple of small branches, and he tried to wrench it free for a couple of minutes.
"Thanks," Tate and I told each other at the same time.
Then we both snickered.
Tate and I were about to climb up our tree when we heard the woman calling.
"Is someone out there? Help!"
It was an old woman's voice, coming from the direction of the trees.
Macon had just gotten up to his chosen branch when he froze. The voice came again, and he scrambled right back down the tree.
We all met back in the middle of the trail.
"Help! I've fallen and can't find my cane."
"Someone's in trouble," Macon said.
"Really," I said. The guy was bringing out the worst in me, and I hated it. But I couldn't stop the dread from rising inside of me. "What if it's a trap? Those wolves said something about one. And Mary warned us not to go off the trail."
"Mary said that you couldn't leave the trail," Macon said. "I can go see what the problem is with the woman."
"Is anyone out there? I'm having trouble getting up."
"We are," Macon called to her.
"Shhh!" I said. "It might be a trap. The trap that the wolves were talking about."
"You can't listen to them, Red," Macon said. "The wolf is always a liar in this story. He wants to slow you down."
"Well, this woman will be slowing us down," I said. "That sounds like a trap to me."
"And me," Tate said. "Come on, man. Stop being such a hero all the time. Oh, wait. You've already done that."
Macon gestured in the direction of her shouts. "We can't leave her out here."
"Think about it," I said. I felt terrible saying this. "What on earth is an old woman doing walking out here at nightfall? There's no civilization around here anywhere."
"There are hermits in Fable," Macon said. "She may very well be one of them. People do live out in the forest."
"Or she might be a witch," Tate said. "Aren't those in fairy tales?"
"Sometimes, hermits can be very helpful," Macon said. "Maybe she has something that can help us. I'll go and see what I can do for her, and the two of you can stay here on the trail."
"I'm over this way!" the woman shouted. "I think my ankle may have gotten bruised. I may need someone to help walk me home."
We approached the edge of the trail and then I saw her.
An old woman in a shawl, lying on the ground well into the trees. She lay in a clearing of dying sunlight. Her cane had toppled feet from her, and it was clear that she'd been crawling around for some time, trying to find it. The grass around her had flattened. Her face was so wrinkled that I couldn't even make out her eyes.
I felt horrible for even suggesting that we keep going.
"Okay," I said, hating this. "Macon, you go and see if you can help her up, but don't take long. Don't walk her home unless you have to. Do you see any dark spots around?"
Macon checked the trees. "No," he said. "None. The two of you, stay here. Listen to Mary and stay on the trail. It's the way for you to win at your story."
And then Macon paraded right into the woods towards the old woman.
"I'm coming!" he said. "I'll help you up, ma'am."
"Ready for more bragging later?" Tate asked me.
"Nope." All we could do was watch. I didn't dare take more than two steps off the trail. My grandmother's life depended on it. This whole forest depended on it. I had to do what Mary said.
Macon reached the old woman. "Oh, thank goodness!" she said. She extended her hand. Her fingers were twisted and full of arthritis. It seemed even the magic of Fable couldn't chase away common diseases. Macon took her hand and slowly helped her to her feet. I felt worse as I watched. I had wanted to leave this old woman lying here because of what some wolves had said. Maybe they were planning on eating her after we abandoned her here. That could be the reason why they wanted us to go off the trail.
The woman stood and leaned against a tree, panting. Macon went for her cane. "I'm fine!" he shouted back at us and waved. "Let me walk her home, and I will be back for you!"
Macon let the old woman intertwine her arm with his, and the two of them walked back further into the trees.
I didn't think he should be separating from us when he was supposed to be the key to my story ending the way it should.
"Is it just me, or is she walking okay now?" Tate asked.
The old woman was walking just fine now. Her gait had improved the moment she had turned away from us. She wasn't even leaning on her cane now. Instead, she let it swing by her side. She was walking like a woman half her age. Macon didn't notice.
Something was wrong here.
"Macon!" I shouted.
He waved again. "I'll be okay!" he called back. "This is nothing I haven't done before!"
"Get back here! She can walk!" There I was, being a big jerk again.
But the woman said something to him, and the two of them walked faster.
And then they disappeared into the trees.
"Get back!" I shouted.
But Macon didn't answer this time. The two of them had gone down a narrow path through the grass and the trees that I could barely make out.
"What do we do?" Tate asked.
I stood there on the edge of the road. I didn't like this. Should we go after Macon?
No. It was what Alric wanted--for us to go off the trail.
But Alric would also want Macon separated from us.
My heart raced. What was I supposed to do? I could get torn apart as soon as I entered those woods or I wouldn't find my way back. Grandma had never let me go camping or hiking as a child. I was the one kid not allowed to go on the camping field trip in the fourth grade. I knew nothing about the woods. Grandma had made sure of that.
"You want me to go after him?" Tate asked.
"No," I said. "Don't. Then we'll be separated." I faced the tree Macon wanted. "I think we should wait for him to come back. Something horrible will happen if we go off the path here."
"Something's not right about any of this," Tate said. "I don't trust that woman."
"I don't, either." I knew we should follow them. Make sure she was just having Macon walk her to his house, even if the guy was annoying. He didn't deserve to have something horrible happen to him.
I took on
e step off the road and terror squeezed at my heart. I couldn't do this. Alric would win if I screwed even one thing up. More of Fable would fall. So much was on my shoulders.
"I can't," I said.
"As I said, I can go," Tate said. "I'm not part of this story."
"You shouldn't." If something happened to Tate and I had to walk to my grandmother's alone without a weapon, what would I do? I would finish my journey, but without Macon there to make sure we didn't get digested, Alric could declare victory over my story. "We need to get in that tree for the night. We can follow in the morning if he's not back by then."
Tate and I walked back to the tree. I wasn't sure whether to panic or be relieved. I should go after Macon and demand he come back. I didn't know what else to do. Either way, we were making a horrible decision.
But Mary--
And Grandma. She didn't want me to come to Fable at all, and here I was.
Tate and I scrambled up into the tree that Macon had tried to climb. The branches grabbed at my hoodie and at last, I settled onto the branch. The night deepened, and soon, I could see nothing at all except for the stars overhead. Even if we had gone down the trial, there was no way we would have seen a thing.
Tate wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close. The air cooled, and I was glad that I'd kept the hoodie. Tate still had his leather jacket. At least we were dressed the way we should be, and we'd ignored the Florida heat in favor of style.
I opened the basket, which Tate had put on my lap. "We might as well eat," I said.
We had a couple of the biscuits, and my stomach growled more after we had eaten them. This was supposed to be for Grandma, right? But we wouldn't even get there by starving. We needed the energy to walk.
"You think we should drink some of that wine?" Tate asked. "This tree isn't the most comfortable. I've never slept in one before. We might need something to knock us out."
"Well, you've been camping when you were younger."
"In a camper that had a bed. Dad was always the guy who had to outshine the neighbors. The other kids were just interested in playing with me because of the stuff we had. They all wanted the pool. I was always the weird guy, you know? They all came to my birthday party for the pool, not me."
