by Brandon Mull
to the trail.
The undergrowth isn’t as bad here, Seth said.
Seth, it would take all day to track it twenty paces.
I don’t mean to track it. Just to walk in this direction
for a while. Maybe it will intersect a trail and we can pick
up tracks again. Or maybe it lives not much farther ahead.
Kendra put a hand in her pocket, feeling for salt. I
don’t like the idea of leaving the trail.
Me neither. We won’t go far. But this thing seems to
like trails. It followed one all this way. We may be close to
a discovery. It’s worth going a little ways just to check.
Kendra stared at her brother. Okay, and what if we run
into a cave?
We take a look.
What if we hear breathing coming from the cave?
You don’t have to go in. I’ll look myself. The point is
finding Grandpa.
Kendra bit her tongue. She almost said that if they
found him out here, it would probably be in pieces. Okay,
just a little ways.
They walked in a straight line away from the path.
They kept scanning the ground, but noticed no more holes.
Before long they crossed a dry, rocky streambed. Not far
beyond, they wandered into a little meadow. The brush and
wildflowers in the meadow grew nearly waist high.
I don’t see any other trails, Kendra said. Or any
monster houses.
Let’s take a good look around the meadow, said Seth.
He made a complete search of the perimeter of the
meadow, finding neither holes nor trails.
Let’s face it, Kendra said. If we try to go any farther,
we’ll be wandering blind.
What about climbing that hill? Seth suggested, indicating
the highest point visible from the meadow, less than
a quarter-mile away. If I were going to make a home
around here, it would be over there. Plus, if we get up
there, we’ll have a better view of the area. These trees
make it hard to see.
Kendra pressed her lips together. The hill was not
steep; it would be easy to climb. And it was not too far
away. If we don’t find anything there, we go back?
Deal.
They marched toward the hill, which was along a different
line from the course they had originally taken from
the path. As they picked their way through denser underbrush,
a twig snapped off to one side. They paused,
listening.
I’m getting pretty nervous, Kendra said softly.
We’re fine. Probably just a falling pinecone.
Kendra tried to push away images of the pallid woman
with the swirling black garments. The thought of her made
Kendra freeze. If she saw her out in the woods, Kendra worried
she would just curl up in a ball on the ground and let
herself be taken.
I’m losing track of which way we’re going, she said.
Back under the trees, the line of sight to both hill and
meadow was disrupted.
I have my compass.
So if all else fails, we can find the North Pole.
The trail we followed went northwest, Seth assured
her. Then we left it going southwest. The hill is to the
west, the meadow is east.
That’s pretty good.
The only trick is paying attention.
Before long, the trees were thinning and they were
walking up the hill. With the trees farther apart, the underbrush
grew higher and the bushes bigger. Kendra and Seth
wound their way up the moderate slope toward the crest.
Do you smell that? Seth asked.
Kendra stopped. Like somebody cooking.
The smell was faint but, now that she noticed it, distinct.
Kendra studied the area with sudden alarm. Oh my
gosh, she said, crouching down.
What?
Get down.
Seth knelt beside her. Kendra pointed toward the crest
of the hill. Off to one side rose a feeble column of smoke ——
a thin, wavering distortion.
Yeah, he whispered. We may have found it.
Again she had to bite her tongue. She hoped someone
wasn’t cooking Grandpa. What do we do?
Stay here, said Seth. I’ll go check it out.
I don’t want to stay alone.
Then follow me, but stay back a bit. We don’t want to
both get caught at the same time. Keep salt ready.
Kendra did not need that reminder. Her only worry
about the salt was that her sweaty hands were going to turn
it to paste.
Seth crept ahead, staying low, using the bushes for
cover, gradually making his way toward the meager line of
smoke. Kendra imitated his movements, impressed that his
hours of playing army were finally paying off. Even as she
followed him, she struggled to come to terms with what
they were doing. Sneaking up on a monster cookout was
among the activities she could do without. Shouldn’t they
be sneaking away?
The trembling shaft of smoke grew nearer. Seth waved
her up to him. She huddled beside him behind a wide bush
twice her height, trying to breathe quietly. He put his lips
to her ear. I’ll be able to see what’s going on when I get
around this bush. I’ll try to yell if I get captured or anything.
Be ready.
She put her mouth to his ear. If you play a trick on me,
I promise I will kill you, I really will.
I won’t. I’m scared too.
He slunk forward. Kendra tried to calm herself. Waiting
was torture. She considered moving around the bush to
take a peek, but could not muster the courage. The silence
was good, right? Unless they had stealthily dropped Seth
with a poison dart.
The pause stretched mercilessly. Then she heard Seth
coming back less carefully than he had left. When he came
around the bush, he was walking upright, saying, Come
here, you have to see this.
What is it?
Nothing scary.
She went around the bush with him, still tense. Up
ahead, in a clear area near the summit of the hill, she saw
the source of the thin smoke-a waist-high cylinder of
stone with a wooden windlass and a dangling bucket. A
well?
Yeah. Come smell.
They walked to the well. Even up close, the rising
smoke remained vapory and indistinct. Kendra leaned over,
staring down into the deep darkness. Smells good.
Like soup, Seth said. Meat, veggies, spices.
Am I just hungry? It smells delicious.
I think so too. Should we try some?
Lower the bucket? Kendra asked skeptically.
Why not? Seth replied.
There could be creatures down there.
I don’t think so, he said.
You think it’s just a well full of stew, Kendra scoffed.
We are on a magical preserve.
As far as we know it could be poisonous.
It can’t hurt to take a look, Seth insisted. I’m starving.
Besides, not everything here is bad. I bet this is where
fairy people come for dinner. See, it even has a crank. He
began turning the windlass, spooling the bucket down into
the darkness.
I�
��m staying on lookout, said Kendra.
Good idea.
Kendra felt exposed. They were far enough from the
summit that she could not see anything on the far side of
the hill, but they were high enough that she commanded
an expansive view of trees and terrain when she looked
down the slope. With little cover surrounding the well, she
worried that unseen eyes might be spying from the foliage
below.
Seth continued unwinding the rope, sending the
bucket ever deeper. Eventually he heard it wetly hit bottom.
The rope slackened a bit. After a moment he began
winding the bucket back up.
Hurry, Kendra said.
I am. This thing is deep.
I’m worried everything in the forest can see us.
Here it comes. He stopped cranking and pulled the
bucket up the last few feet by hand, setting it on the lip of
the well.
Kendra joined him. Inside the wooden bucket, bits of
meat, cut carrots, potato fragments, and onion floated in a
fragrant yellow broth. Looks like a normal stew, Kendra
said.
Better than normal. I’m trying some.
Don’t! she warned.
Lighten up. He tweezed out a piece of dripping meat
and tried it. Good! he announced. He plucked out a
potato and offered a similar report. Tipping the bucket, he
slurped some of the broth. Amazing! he said. You have
to try it.
From behind the same bush they had used as their final
hiding place when approaching the well, a creature
emerged. From the waist up, he was a shirtless man with an
exceptionally hairy chest and a pair of pointy horns above
his forehead. From waist down he had the legs of a shaggy
goat. Wielding a knife, the satyr charged straight at them.
Both Kendra and Seth turned in alarm at the sound of
his hooves racing up the slope. Salt, Seth blurted, dipping
into his pockets.
As she fumbled for salt, Kendra dashed around the well,
placing it between herself and the attacker. Not Seth. He
stood his ground, and when the satyr was a couple of steps
away, he flung a fistful of salt at the goatman.
The satyr stopped short, obviously surprised by the
cloud of salt. Seth threw a second handful, groping in his
pockets for more. The salt failed to spark or sizzle. Instead,
the satyr appeared bewildered.
What are you doing? he asked in a hushed tone.
I could ask you the same question, Seth replied.
No you can’t. You’re spoiling our operation. The satyr
lunged past Seth and slashed the rope with his knife. She’s
coming.
Who?
I’d save the questions for later, the satyr said. He
wound the rope until it was tight around the windlass,
seized the bucket, and started down the hill, spilling soup
as he went. From the far side of the hill, Kendra heard
foliage rustling and branches crunching. She and Seth followed
the satyr.
The satyr slid into the bush Kendra had crouched
behind earlier. Kendra and Seth dove in alongside him.
An instant after they ducked out of sight, a bulky,
hideous woman lumbered into view and approached the
well. She had a broad, flat face with saggy earlobes that
hung almost to her hefty shoulders. Her misshapen bosom
drooped inside a coarse, homespun tunic. Her avocado skin
had a ridged texture like corduroy, her graying hair was
shaggy and matted, and her build bordered on obese. The
well barely came to her knees, making her considerably
taller than Hugo. She waddled from side to side as she
walked, and she was breathing heavily through her mouth.
Bending over, she pawed at the well, stroking the
wooden frame. The ogress can’t see much, the satyr
whispered.
When he said it, the ogress jerked her head up. She
yammered something in a guttural language. Shambling a
couple of steps away from the well, she squatted down and
sniffed at the ground where Seth had thrown his salt.
There been peoples here, she accused in a husky,
accented voice. Where you peoples be?
The satyr placed a finger against his lips. Kendra held
perfectly still, trying to breathe softly despite her alarm.
She tried to plan which direction she would run.
The ogress lumbered down the slope toward their hiding
place, sniffing high and low. I heared peoples. I
smelled peoples. And I smell my stew. Peoples been at my
stew again. You come out now to apologize.
The satyr shook his head, slitting his throat with a finger
for emphasis. Seth slid a hand into a pocket. The satyr
touched his wrist and shook his head with a scowl.
The ogress had already closed half the distance to the
bush. You peoples like my stew so much, maybe you take a
bath in it.
Kendra resisted the urge to bolt. The ogress would be
on them in moments. But the satyr seemed to know what
he was doing. He held up a hand, tacitly signaling for them
to keep still.
Without warning, something began crashing through
the bushes about twenty yards to their right. The ogress
pivoted and stumbled toward the ruckus with a quick,
awkward gait.
The satyr nodded. They scrambled out of the bush and
started down the hill. Behind them, the ogress skidded to
a halt and changed direction, coming after them. The goatman
pitched the bucket of stew into a tangled patch of
thorns and bounded over a fallen log. Kendra and Seth
sprinted after him.
Propelled by her downward momentum, Kendra found
herself taking larger steps than she wanted. Each time her
foot touched the ground became a fresh opportunity to lose
her balance and tumble forward. Seth stayed a couple of
steps ahead of her, and the swift satyr was gradually increasing
his lead.
Heedless of obstacles, the ogress pursued them noisily,
trampling bushes and tearing through branches. She
breathed in damp, wheezing gasps and cursed periodically,
reverting to her unintelligible native tongue. Despite her
cumbersome size and apparent exhaustion, the misshapen
ogress was rapidly gaining.
The slope leveled out. Behind Kendra the ogress fell,
branches and deadfalls snapping like fireworks. Kendra
glanced back, catching a glimpse of the burly ogress surging
to her feet.
The satyr led them into a shallow ravine, where they
found the wide entrance to a dark tunnel. This way, he
said, dashing into the tunnel. Although it looked spacious
enough for the ogress to enter, Seth and Kendra followed
without question. The satyr appeared confident, and he
had been right so far.
The tunnel grew darker the deeper they ran. Heavy
footsteps followed them. Kendra glanced back. The ogress
filled the subterranean passageway, blocking out much of
the light filtering in from the opening.
It became hard to see the satyr up ahead. The tunnel
was growing narrower
. Close behind Kendra, the ogress
gasped and coughed. Hopefully she would have a heart
attack and collapse.
For a space, the darkness became complete. Then it
began to brighten. The tunnel continued to shrink. Soon
Kendra had to crouch, and the walls were within reach at
either side. The satyr slackened his pace, looking back with
a mischievous grin. Kendra checked over her shoulder as
well.
The panting ogress crawled and then scooted forward
on her belly, wheezing and choking. When she could worm
no farther, she roared in frustration, a strained, throaty cry.
After that it sounded like she vomited.
Up ahead the satyr was crawling. The passage slanted
upward. They emerged through a small gap into a bowl-shaped
depression. A second satyr stood waiting for them.
The second had redder hair than the first and slightly
longer horns. He motioned for them to follow.
The two satyrs and two children charged recklessly
through the woods for a few more minutes. When they
arrived at a clearing with a tiny pond, the redheaded satyr
stopped and faced the others.
What was the idea, ruining our operation? he asked.
Clumsy work, the other satyr agreed.
We didn’t know, Kendra said. We thought it was a
well.
You thought a chimney was a well? the redhead complained.
I suppose you sometimes mistake icicles for carrots?
Or wagons for outhouses?
It had a bucket, Seth said.
And it was in the ground, Kendra added.
They have a point, the other satyr said.
You were on the roof of the ogress’s lair, explained the
redhead.
We get it now, Seth said. We thought it was a hill.
Nothing wrong with pinching a bit of soup from her
cauldron, the redhead continued. We try to be free with
our assets. But you need to use some delicacy. A little
finesse. At least wait until the old lady falls asleep. Who
are you, anyhow?
Seth Sorenson.
Kendra.
I am Newel, said the redhead. This is Doren. You
realize we’ll probably have to construct a whole new rigging?
She’ll rip the old one down, Doren explained.
Almost more work than cooking our own stew,
Newel huffed.
We can’t make it come out like she does, Doren
mourned.
She has a gift, Newel agreed.
We’re sorry, Kendra said. We were a little lost.
Doren waved a hand. Don’t worry. We just like to
bluster. If you spoiled our wine, that would be another
