Winterwood

by Shea Ernshaw

  He holds the silver lighter out in front of him, and Lin exclaims, “What the hell are you doing!” But Jasper flicks the lighter and it sparks to life in his hands.

  I can feel the trees inching closer; the ground shudders, roots pushing upward. “What’s happening?” Suzy asks, glancing back at me. A tendril of spiky roots has begun to circle around her ankles, slithering up her calves.

  I’ve never seen the forest like this—violent and angry. Awake.

  Suzy hasn’t yet noticed the root rising up from the soil—she’s staring at me, pleading for me to do something. And in the next second, Jasper drops the lighter onto a nest of leaves and pine needles near the base of a tree.

  “No!” I shriek, stepping toward Jasper, as if I could stop him. But it’s too late.

  “You idiot,” Lin cries out. “You’ll burn us alive with it!”

  I don’t expect the flame to catch, to ignite. The woods are too damp, too cold—but the fire licks through the pine needles quickly and expands to a nearby bearberry bush, the sudden burst of light illuminating the forest for the first time. And I see what I couldn’t before. The Wicker Woods have lowered over us, forming a cage of branches and limbs and roots. A web to ensnare us.

  This is how it kills. It traps and suffocates. It smothers the life from living things who have intruded where they shouldn’t have. This is why no deer pass through the Wicker Woods. No rabbits or mice or birds. They fear this length of forest. They know what hides inside it: death.

  The forest shivers with the rupture of firelight. The trees howl—a sound unlike anything I’ve ever heard.

  The flames move swiftly now, spiraling up a dead tree into the night sky. The roots that had entwined themselves around Suzy’s ankle slither back down beneath the soil, retreating. “Nora?” Suzy asks, looking like a small child, terrified.

  “We have to run,” I say. Fire leaps from one tree to the next, roaring, creating its own wind, sparks catching on limbs and scattering across the forest floor. Fury igniting them, malice and anger more flammable than any fuel.

  “Which direction?” Suzy asks.

  I don’t know. I don’t know.

  Rhett is squeezing his hands against his hat, Jasper’s eyes are too wide, and Lin is looking back at me, waiting for me to tell them what to do.

  Ash already begins to flit down from above, burnt remains of pine needles, some still lit and smoldering. And then, between the particles that fill the air, I see the subtle flicker of wings.

  White wings beating.

  White wings that won’t leave me alone.

  White wings zigzagging through the strange air—sparks and burning trees and the night sky opening up above us.

  My moth. A bone moth.

  It hovers a few feet ahead of me, then quivers away in the direction of the old creek bed. Death wants me to follow.

  So I do—what choice do I have? Any of us?

  I start down the shallow creek and Suzy follows. The moth moves quickly, fleeing the smoke and the growing flames—white shredded wings thumping nervously. It wants free of these woods just like we do. It wants out.

  I break into a run, and I can feel the trail of boys behind me—everyone sprinting now. No one worried about finding Oliver or gathering lost things, we just need to get out. Now.

  The air turns hot and ashy, smothered by smoke, and my eyes water—stinging with each blink. I try to see the terrain in front of me, but I trip on rocks and clumps of snow and roots woven above the earth. I blink and I run. I run. I had felt chilled only moments ago, but now sweat beads from my skin, slips down my spine, and trickles into my eyes, making things worse.

  I lose sight of the moth. It gets lost in the growing smoke, in the thick brush, but then it reappears again. The dry creek bed fades to nothing. I can’t be sure we’re going the right way—deeper into the mountains or back toward the lake. The ground slopes down, but at times we climb up. Higher, farther into the wilderness.

  The fire expands, groaning and popping and wailing, like a beast chasing us, spurred on by its own cyclone of wind. The heat is unbearable, the smoke suffocating.

  “We should be out by now,” Rhett calls from behind me. But I ignore him.

  Every breath grates against my throat like sandpaper. Smoke fills our lungs. The entire forest is burning and we are lost inside it.

  “Then don’t follow us,” Suzy snaps. She’s had enough of him.

  Lin keeps pace with Suzy and me, but Rhett and Jasper are slower, second-guessing every turn.

  I pause at a place where the forest is divided in two. Pine trees on one side, a grove of hemlocks on the other. And I’ve lost sight of the moth again.

  “Where the hell are you taking us?” Jasper shouts when he catches up. He steps closer to me, like he’s going to reach out and grab my arm, but I move away.

  “Leave her alone,” Suzy says to him. “She’s the only chance we have of getting out of here.”

  “Unless she wants us to die in here,” Rhett says. His eyes have taken on the shadow of someone who is desperate, willing to do whatever it takes. Someone who will fight to survive. “She is a witch after all,” he says. “Maybe she has something to do with this.”

  “Jasper started the fire,” Suzy says, meeting his gaze. “Not Nora.”

  Flames tear through the trees behind us, cyclones of hot, ashy wind whipping closer, right at our heels. We need to move.

  “Maybe she cast a spell to make the forest angry,” Jasper says, his mouth flattening into an unbroken line. “Maybe she doesn’t want us to find our way out, and it’s all a trick.”

  “Maybe I did,” I spit, eyeing him now, anger coursing like black ribbons through every vein. “Maybe I’ll make sure you never leave these woods.” It’s a lie, but I don’t care. I want him to think I could conjure up death with the curl of my index finger.

  Jasper moves toward me but Suzy steps between us, pushing her small hands against his broad chest. “Don’t fucking touch her,” she says.

  Jasper shakes his head but keeps his eyes on me. “I vote we sacrifice her to the forest, let her burn in here like the witch she is.”

  “Shut up, Jasper,” Lin interjects now, his face flush, the flames working their way up the pines only a few feet away from us.

  “You’re both assholes,” Suzy says, her gaze flicking from Jasper to Rhett.

  I wipe at my forehead, smearing away the gritty layer of ash sticking to my skin. Maybe I was wrong to follow the moth. Maybe it’s only leading me toward death. Into the fire. But my eyes catch on the line of hemlocks, parted by a row of pine trees. The ground slopes down where the trees come together: a ravine. A familiar shape in the ground.

  I bolt away from the group—before Jasper can reach out for me—and I run down the row of pines. I only go a few more strides when I know it’s the right way.

  Ahead of me is a break in the trees.

  I sprint to the edge of the forest, my heart hammering, eyes weeping from the smoke. I slow once I reach the boundary—pausing to look back. Suzy catches up to me first. Her eyelids blink mutely, out of breath, and I think she’s going to say something, but she can’t find the words, so she steps past the threshold and out into the open. Free from the Wicker Woods.

  Lin is next, and he jogs straight past me, his gaze meeting mine quickly before he ducks through the row of trees.

  I don’t see Rhett and Jasper, only a wall of smoke and flames reaching up into the sky, spirals of fire licking from the tops of trees, trying to burn the stars. But maybe Rhett and Jasper deserve to die in here, to meet their end. Penance for everything they’ve done.

  But then they come into view, breaking through the smoke.

  Rhett is stumbling, coughing, and Jasper looks no better.

  Then something happens.

  I see Jasper trip. He staggers a moment—as if struggling against something—then falls forward, landing hard on his side, a stunned gasp escaping his lips.

  I move away from the edge of th
e trees—unsure what’s just happened—but then I see, he didn’t trip. He was pulled down.

  Something has woven its way around his foot—the ground moving beneath him.

  “What the fuck?” Rhett asks, now standing beside me. But Jasper is strangely silent, his hands clawing at the charred soil—in shock.

  A root is wrapped around his ankle, and it’s drawing him back into the woods.

  I hesitate, the boundary of the forest so close—only a foot away. I know I shouldn’t care, I should just flee with the others and leave Jasper behind. But I can’t. I can’t see the terror in his eyes and walk away.

  I can’t let Jasper die in here, like this.

  I scramble forward and drop to my knees, grabbing Jasper’s arms. The tree root has spiraled tightly around his left ankle and is tugging him back, retreating into the soil. His hands grasp at the forest floor, at twigs and moss, nothing that will help him. His eyes wide.

  “Rhett!” I call behind me. “Come help me!”

  But Rhett doesn’t move. He’s standing at the edge of the forest, his expression slack.

  “I can’t pull him up by myself.” Still, Rhett refuses to react.

  I dig my feet into the ground, bracing myself, and pull back on Jasper’s arms. But the roots are too strong, his legs sinking into the soft, ashy ground. “Shit,” he starts saying, over and over in disbelief.

  Even for everything he’s done, I don’t want to see him die out here. Not like this.

  “You have to help me!” I shout back to Rhett, but it’s useless, whether out of fear or stupidity, he won’t move from his place beside the boundary trees, so close to freedom. He watches as his friend is being pulled under.

  “You have to empty your pockets!” I yell to Jasper. “Whatever you took from the forest, you have to give it back.”

  His eyes stall on mine, then he releases one hand from my grip, reaching around to his coat pocket. Clumsily, he pulls out whatever is inside, scattering the items across the forest floor. Silver buttons, a hair barrette that looks like it’s made of white pearl, the belt buckle tarnished and covered in dirt.

  And then I see it.

  A single thing among the others.

  Metal glinting up at me. A gold band, a stone at the center.

  It can’t be.

  I want to reach out for it, but I can’t release my hold on Jasper. I squint, bending forward, and then I know for sure: The moonstone glimmers a pale milky white, even in the darkness.

  My grandmother’s ring.

  The one that fell into the lake when I broke through the ice. An offering to the forest, just like Mr. Perkins had said.

  Jasper found it on the forest floor, among the dirt and rot and patches of snow, inside the Wicker Woods. Returned.

  Lost things found.

  My head throbs and I look away from it, back to Jasper.

  But it’s already too late—he’s up to his waist, twisting, thrashing. The nose on his stupid reindeer sweater is already beneath the soil, patches of snow filling in around him. The forest is swallowing him up.

  I’m not strong enough, and I meet his eyes, blinking wide—panic in them. The forest doesn’t want us to leave.

  More dirt caves in around him, and he gasps for air—he’s sunk up to his chest now. He blinks up at me one last time, like he’s still unsure of what’s happening, like he’s still a little buzzed—and he thinks maybe this isn’t real. Only a dream, an awful, awful nightmare.

  He doesn’t speak, doesn’t cry out, and I hold on to his arms until they are the only thing still aboveground. But then they too are swallowed up by the cruel, dark soil.

  Gone.

  Gone.

  Gone.

  I sink back onto the earth, staring at the space where Jasper had been, my own lungs heaving. What the fuck, I want to scream, but no sound comes out. Only the absence of air.

  Above me, trees are burning, sparks raining down. And I scramble back, pushing myself to standing, afraid I will be next—just like Jasper. But the roots don’t come for me. Jasper was the one who started the fire. Jasper stole lost things after I told him not to—when the forest was awake. He was the only one who placed things in his pocket to take home, to keep.

  The trees were never going to let him leave.

  I wipe at my face, dirt and soot coming away, and brush my hands against my knees. Wanting to be rid of the dirt, any memory of what just happened. Of what I just saw. Jasper is dead. Jasper is gone.

  On the ground, only a foot away, is my grandmother’s ring. My heart swings wrongly in my chest. Something isn’t right—why is the ring here, inside the woods? But I don’t bend down to touch it, I don’t lift it from the soil. I won’t take it from the Wicker Woods, not now, when the forest is awake—I won’t give it reason to hunt me.

  The trees wheeze and croak, flames growing larger, and I push myself up, stagger a moment, then turn and run to the edge of the Wicker Woods.

  “I—” Rhett stammers when I reach him. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t—” But I don’t let him finish. I shove my hands hard against his chest, hard enough that it knocks him back and he slams against the tree behind him. He doesn’t say anything else. His mouth flat, eyes to the ground.

  I step over the threshold and out of the Wicker Woods.

  The Black River churns ahead of us, water roiling beneath the layer of ice. Suzy and Lin stare at me—like they heard what happened, like they know Jasper isn’t going to appear from the trees. But then I realize they aren’t looking at me; they’re staring up at the woods, at the way we came.

  I turn and see. Against the backdrop of the night sky, fiery red sparks rise in dizzying circles, flames ripping apart the forest. The Wicker Woods are burning.

  We watch, mute, as the flames expand, moving toward the Black River.

  It’s spreading.

  It isn’t contained inside the Wicker Woods. And it’s hurtling down toward Jackjaw Lake.

  “We have to go!” I say, grabbing Suzy by the arm to get her attention. “We can’t stay here.”

  Suzy nods and I glance back at the woods one last time. Perhaps for the very last time.

  A brick sinks into my stomach.

  The place I have known my whole life—where Walker women rose up from the soil so long ago no one can remember the year—won’t survive the night. I’ve feared these woods, but under a full moon, I have felt at home inside them too.

  I turn away, unable to watch it burn.

  I have to find Oliver.

  OLIVER

  The night sky is electric.

  The mountains to the north, the Wicker Woods, set alight.

  I stand on the shore of the lake watching the flames raze down through the trees, a sound like thunder.

  I know it’s my fault. I couldn’t face her—I left her room while she slept. I snuck out like a coward because I couldn’t tell her the truth and now I feel the dark pulling me under. The forest always there—clawing at me, bones and teeth, trying to draw me back in. She was my only remedy, and I left her alone.

  She doesn’t deserve what I did. She doesn’t deserve the lies I told. But what else could I do?

  Fuck.

  I might be the villain. I might be all the awful things I didn’t want to be. I might have fury inside me I can’t contain. Revenge resting just behind my eyelids.

  I am not who she thinks I am.

  I squeeze my palms against my temples. I rake my fingers through my hair.

  I left her alone. I hurt her. But not as bad as it will hurt when she learns the truth.

  I thought I would leave and never see her again. But now I stand at the shore, watching the fire tear down through the snow-covered pines, and I can’t seem to make my legs move.

  My heart beats only in broken measure now—hardly at all.

  I have to find her.

  I won’t let her die out here. Alone.

  NORA

  We run, cutting trails through the snow, the fire chasing us down the Black Rive
r. The fire a monster at our backs.

  I don’t look behind us—I don’t need to. I can feel how close it is. I can feel the sparks burning my skin, my hair, catching on my lashes.

  We reach the shore, the frozen lake already reflecting the eerie glow of the fire. The sky turned the color of blood, of smoke. Of not enough time.

  The four of us exchange a quick look, but no one speaks. Even Rhett looks as mute as a tomb.

  Jasper is dead—a death none of us will be able to explain.

  “The fire’s moving too fast,” Lin says. He pushes back the hood of his coat and I see his full head, his shorn hair, for the first time. The air finally hot enough that he doesn’t need his hood. Ahead of us, the trees are already beginning to burn on all sides of the lake. There’s no time. Lin looks to me and then Suzy, his breathing ragged, and says, “Good luck.”

  I nod to him, understanding what he means: We’re each on our own now. We’ve reached the lake, and now we each make our own path. So run.

  Rhett breaks away first, turning west toward the boys’ camp. And shortly after, Lin follows, two figures sprinting around the lake as the trees catch flame only a few yards away, closing in.

  Suzy looks unsure, like she doesn’t know where to go. Who to follow. Which fate she will choose—with me, or the boys back at camp.

  “Come on,” I say, when her eyes start to water, when she looks like she might sink down into the snow and give up. I grab her hand and she looks relieved.

  Together, we hurry toward my house.

  The fire hasn’t reached the row of summer homes yet, but it’s growing closer, devouring the forest along the shore. It’s only a matter of time.

  We sprint through the pines, and before I’ve even climbed the porch steps, I see that the door has swung open, slapping back against the wall. It was never fully shut when Jasper closed it—the knob and hinges broken. And now Fin is gone.

  I yell into the trees, calling out for him—my heart beating too fast, my throat gone dry—but he doesn’t come. He’ll be okay, I tell myself, my eyes starting to sting with the threat of tears. He knows the forest. He’ll outrun the fire, he’ll escape these woods long before we do.