Chapter Five
The old-growth fir and cedar forest edges up against the ocean under a dark sky. Giant conifer and maple trees reach up from a mass of wet moss so thick the soil cannot be seen beneath it. The vivid green is reminiscent of the now extinct Palau Nephthea, or green tree coral. The delicate structure long since given into deteriorating conditions in its environment.
How long until the same happens to the forest?
Through the pools of collected rain on the ground, Serena crosses the barren beach to take cover in the trees. Pausing next to a fallen tree that still stands twice her height on its side, Serena squats, listening to make sure she is still alone and waits for the crickets to resume their symphony. One hesitant chirp sounds, beginning the chorus again. Serena runs her hand over the rough bark of the tree—dark brown amidst a backdrop of green. Compared to the diverse and complex Deep, the colors and textures here are simple. For Serena, the unadorned Dry is a much needed repose from the cacophony of Society.
Briefly, Serena considers this may be a bad idea. If she is caught, there is no doubt the king will allow a trial, and a second excursion wouldn't exactly help her case.
More chirps chime in as Serena lifts her chin to sniff the musky air, which is scented with an underlying tone of rotting vegetation. Her keen sense of smell confirms neither Ungainlies nor wet animals skulk nearby.
If I am caught and thrown in prison, thinks Serena. I will never have the chance to help Mariam. She can't imaging the clumsy bookkeeper wandering into The Dry herself.
Serena lifts herself up and climbs over the fallen tree. The next one is so big she has to crawl under. Picking up her pace, Serena jogs through the forest toward the hallow holes of the archives. In The Dry, her body is weighted, and the ground is wet and slippery. Running and jumping is hard work, but Serena revels in the challenge. Besides, regular visits are necessary for her sanity—shrub overgrowth or no.
When she reaches the clearing, her heart is pounding inside of her chest and the gills on her neck are in a frantic flap to suck oxygen from water that isn't there, even though she breathes through her mouth on land. The occasional teasing raindrop slicking down from the curled tresses of her black hair entice the gills to keep trying.
Undine are taught that werewolves can smell their scales. Serena is bold in retracting more of her armor, hoping to remain undetected.
Glancing up, Serena pauses to look at the small, circular break in trees directly above the archives, letting the rain wash over her face. The limitless sky above is liberating. It seems to have no boundaries, unlike the constricting borders of the Undine kingdom.
Taking a deep breath, Serena directs her attention back to the ground. Stepping around several holes, she repeats the layout to herself as though she is in a naval minefield.
"Move to the right—that one opens just above my reading cove. Leap over the hole for the coral section," she whispers.
Finally, Serena approaches the chasm above the catalogues. She squats down, feeling the overgrown fern while she keeps her eyes up. Her fingers hit fresh, loose soil. She brings a handful to her face and inhales.
Recently planted…
Her eyes grow wide and her heart stills. She fights back the scales trying to force their way forward—armor that responds to a perceived threat. Her eyes dart around, searching the tree line for signs of movement, but sheets of rain distort her view.
The sky is no longer liberating. It bears down on her, creating more pressure than the ocean deep. The stars are bright pinpoints of light, threatening to sear straight into her bones. Serena hunches her shoulders, craving the safety of her sleeping cove. Out here she is too vulnerable, too exposed.
On her left, a small branch gives way to the weight of water collecting in pools on top and falls to the ground. She expands her senses, automatically sending out the echolocation signals. They work so well underwater, but here the sound doesn't travel as far, and it bounces back full of distortion. Serena can't help but think of Ervin, her temporary guard, asleep just below her. He is so close, yet worlds away.
A bush shakes on her right. She turns her head, squinting into the dark shrubbery and twisting branches. Her heart pounds furiously against her ribcage, like driftwood caught between a strong current and the rocky shore.
Eyes steadfast on the bushes, she feels the ground for the plant that has been blocking sunlight to the archives, grabbing it by its roots. She tugs it loose, losing her balance as it springs out of the ground. Regaining her center, Serena sprints for the tree line, away from the noise. Heading for a dense grove, she jumps into thick plant life.
Is that a growl? she asks herself, straining to hear the sound again—the noise is difficult to discern amidst the thundering rain.
I know these woods better than any Undine, Serena thinks. But as she runs through the trees, sharp branches lash out at her, slowing her down. Her foot lands in a patch of thick moss, sinking in. Stumbling out of it, she grows less confident. Pushing hard for the tree ahead, Serena grits her teeth and squeezes the plant in her hands. A few feet away, she leaps, catching onto the lower branch. Her legs swing forward and she uses the momentum to kip up, pushing her upper body above the branch. She steadies herself, pulling up one leg, then the other. As her last foot scrapes against rough bark she feels a whoosh of wind just below her toes, like something is attempting to grab at her feet.
A paw?!
She wavers on the branch, feet gripping it as her arms wave in wide circles, trying to maintain her balance. A vision of the blood-covered maiden, dead under glowing, red wolf eyes assaults her as Serena hunches under the chills that brush her shoulders. Pivoting on the balls of her feet, she steadies herself, backing up against the firm trunk. She throws her arms behind her, wrapping them around the tree, and peers over the branch below.
There is nothing.
Just soggy ground.
Her eyes flutter closed.
Serena breathes hard and leans her head back against the tree. It could all be her imagination, but she doesn't want to risk crawling down out of the tree. Neither does she want to risk waiting out the night and being caught at sunrise by an Ungainly hiking through the forest. Serena squats down on the large branch and crawls forward, studying the ground. It is blurry from so high up and the dark soil blends in with the even darker shadows of plants. Harsh rain gives way to a soft dribble.
Serena closes her eyes, picturing where she is and where she needs to go. The wolfsbane flower patch is straight ahead, the ocean to the rear. Either one would mean safety if creatures are patrolling the forest tonight.
The plant she still holds is crushed, caught between her hand and the branch when she climbed up. She throws it up and away from where she stands. When it lands, there is a quick scuffle and the bushes rattle. Serena scans them for a pair of red eyes.
Silence.
Seconds pass, stretching into minutes. Serena’s heart resumes a steady beat, keeping time to the crash of waves in the distance. Above, a flock of birds take flight, causing bits of leaves to flutter down from the upper canopy. A smile tugs at the corner of Serena’s mouth.
Numerous branches twist and turn, providing steady footholds that guide Serena up the massive trunk, easing her higher into the sky. She seeks out a strong branch on the next tree over and leaps to it before she has a chance to talk herself out of it. The air is as fresh and crisp as when the currents surge and shift. She lands hard in the next tree, gripping the trunk so she doesn't fall.
Serena makes her way to the other side of the tree and leaps again, arching into the sky, the pull of the moon fighting against gravity to keep her airborne. The Earth wins, and Serena sails back down. This time, her feet slip and she doesn't get her arms out fast enough to catch herself. She falls to the branch below, and it cracks beneath her weight and Serena is in free fall.
Scales emerge on her back, up her neck, and even on her scalp, protecting her fragile bones from several hard hits against the tree. F
inally, one branch holds and Serena has a chance to catch her footing. Realizing how close she is to the ground, Serena scrambles up the tree again, out of the reach of any potential predators lurking below. There’s no use in becoming immortalized as a dead maiden between the pages of a book.
Back on track, Serena thinks, hearing the sound of the ocean growing louder. Just a few more.
Her hands shake knowing the next leap will be the hardest—needing enough momentum to take it with her straight into the sea. She backs up to the trunk, bends her knees slightly, and runs with sure, steady steps.
Another leap. No longer concerned with the moon or the waves, Serena’s eyes lock on the landing branch. It bows under her weight, but she is already moving across it. Leap, arc, land. A flutter of feet. She can't distinguish sounds on the ground from the noise she is making in the air.
Leap and arc. This time the waves appear between the trunks of the trees. Land. One more tree to traverse. There is no arc with the next jump. She aims for a lower branch, preparing for her descent to the ground. Adrenaline pushes her across the final tree and in a flash her bare feet hit powdery sand.
Serena urges her tired body on. If there was anything in the forest tonight, she made more than enough noise to attract its attention. Scores of scales emerge along her legs, driven by sheer terror coursing through her veins. Between her thighs the scales grab onto each other forcing her legs to mold into a tail. Her stride constrained, Serena stumbles and falls forward into the shallow reach of the ocean, her body already completing the transformation, instinct overtaking necessity.
Her hands scramble, trying to pull her fins forward but only coming up with useless clumps of disintegrating sand. Out of choices, Serena opens her mouth and sings, pleading for help. The sea answers, building momentum for a strong swell. Her tail gives wild flops and her voice grows louder—more urgent. When the wave reaches her, she is all but blind with fear.
She curls into a fetal position as the water crashes over. When the ocean retreats, Serena goes with it, her fins leaving faint marks imprinted into the sand that disappear with the next wave.
The Rising Page 7
