I acted before I thought, bending down into the river and scooping up one of the sharp shale rocks at the bottom. I didn’t have time to unwind my bandage; I simply raked the rock across my palm as hard as I could where I had previously cut myself.
Pain seared up my arm, but I ignored it and shoved my hand against the ancient’s strange face. The thing gave an anguished cry as green bloomed where my blood touched it. It screeched, an ungodly sound, as it tried to reel away, but as it did, its skin sloughed off like bark into the water, and the green moss ate up its face and burrowed into its yellow eyes, daisies blooming as it did.
As it tried to flee, dark roots burst out of its chest, swirling around its thin arms and legs, digging deep into the riverbed, until it stood frozen in the river, arms now limbs, legs now trunks, a nightmarish tree covered in moss and flowers.
A rivet of blood swirled down my arm and dropped into the river. I quickly pressed my hand against my shirt to stanch the bleeding.
My knees felt like pudding, and I sank down into the shallows of the river. My heart thundered in my ears, black spots dancing in my eyes.
Vala ambled up to me and pressed her shoulder against my face. I curled my good hand into her fur and let myself cry into it. Hot tears burned in my eyes. I was scared. I hated the wood. And I didn’t want to be here at all.
I almost died. I almost died and—and—
“Is it gone?”
The voice of Fox came from behind me, and I turned.
He stepped out of the trees, picking leaves out of his hair. I wondered how far he’d fled, where he’d hidden. I wondered if he watched the whole thing, waiting to see if the ancient was going to rip me asunder. A hot anger bubbled in my stomach.
“You left me!” I cried, pulling myself to my feet. “You went and hid!”
“Of course I did!” he snapped, untangling a particularly gnarled limb from his long orange hair. “What else was I supposed to do? That was an ancient! You think that I would’ve been a match for that? I could’ve been woodcursed!” I was frozen in anger, and when he caught the look on my face, he rolled his eyes. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of me, Daisy, but trust me when I say I would’ve only made things worse. Besides, you handled yourself pretty well. I told you that you weren’t a useless gardener’s daughter.”
I rubbed the tears out of my eyes. “It isn’t about being useless, or about my magical blood. I thought we were in this together, Fox. I thought we were friends. But I guess I was mistaken.”
“No, Daisy, that’s not what—”
“Forget it,” I said, and headed back to camp, not caring if he followed.
14
Forsaken Forests
Fox
IT WASN’T WHAT she thought.
I wanted to help her—but the moment I saw that monster, something deep down beneath my rib cage, hidden and forgotten beneath my heart . . . broke open. Something I didn’t understand. I had never seen an ancient before, and the sight of it filled me with the sort of fear I couldn’t fight against. It was the kind of fear that came from looking at a nightmare you had seen in your dreams your entire life, finally made flesh and bone. That fear flooded me, and a voice as clear as day said, somewhere in the back of my head—
Run and hide.
Besides, it wasn’t like I could have helped. That thing was twelve feet tall! Even as a human I was still small compared to it.
Though Daisy was smaller. I remember when I barely came up to her knees, and now she barely came up to my shoulders.
. . . And she had faced the ancient. While I cowered.
What was wrong with me? Running and hiding always worked when I was a fox. It was how I survived. I didn’t fight. She couldn’t fault me for that.
Daisy sat quietly by the fire, knees curled up to her chest. She held the crown in her hands, and the firelight caught the leaves, spinning pinions of light across our camp. The crown was humming very softly, but I wasn’t sure if she could hear it or not. She just ran her fingers along the thorns and gold-foil leaves.
Vala slumped down on the other side of the fire, tossing a fish up and swallowing it in one gulp.
“How did it find us?” Daisy asked, startling me from my thoughts. Her voice was soft, and it sounded brittle around the edges. “The ancient, I mean. What are they?”
I glanced at Vala, who snorted a Humans do not know.
“They’re old gods,” I started, “back from when the world was not as dark, and magic lived everywhere. They used to be the sentries for the Lady of the Wilds, but when the crown was given to the first King Sunder, they grew corrupted, and now they spread the woodcurse. As for how that one found us, my guess is that it was attracted to the crown.”
Surprised, she looked down to the golden circlet. “Really?”
“You don’t think that sort of magic is silent, do you?” I folded my arms behind my head and reclined back onto the bear, who just grunted. She made a rather comfortable chair. “You put it on, so I think you understand the temptation.”
She hesitated as she stared down at the crown. “I wouldn’t have ever taken it off if you hadn’t knocked it off me.”
I looked up into the night. I guessed this was as good a time to tell her as any. “You were screaming. You were screaming because it hurt.”
Her eyes widened. “I . . . don’t remember that.”
“Well, I can’t forget it.” Sighing, I massaged the bridge of my nose. There was a needling sort of pain behind my eyes, but I wasn’t sure if it was from a lack of sleep or the stress of this situation. I closed my eyes and rolled away from her. “Go to sleep, Daisy. Maybe you’ll unpack some of those bags under your eyes.”
“You’re the worst, Fox.”
I felt the same.
She curled up on her mat of grass, and soon her breath evened out as she fell into a deep, soft sleep. I sat up and rubbed my face. Someone had to keep watch tonight, and it was going to be me.
The bear flicked her ears toward me. She wore the crown?
“For a moment,” I muttered, remembering the way her honey braid began to ignite at the ends, the smell of burned hair flooding my nostrils. Her eyes had rolled up behind her eyelids, roots crawling up her legs, a scream tearing from her mouth, bloodcurdling and horrible. I remembered it so viscerally, it made me shiver, though I told myself it was from the cold. “I took it off her before anything could happen.”
How did you know what it would do?
I pulled my long orange hair over my right shoulder, began to meticulously pick out the knots, and frowned. “I don’t know. I just know not everyone can wear it.”
How? How do you know?
I opened my mouth to tell her, but I realized I had no idea how I knew. “Aren’t all animals from the wood? Don’t we all know, in our bones, how the crown works?”
I only know it calls to us.
I picked another knot out of my hair. “Why does it matter? She’s not going to put the crown on again.”
The bear gave me a look, her eyes dark and unreadable. And if she does? Will you be here again to take it off, or will you slip off and hide, like you did today?
“I can’t protect anyone, bear,” I told her. “I just make things worse. I mean, look at me now. I saved her from the crown, and she turned me human.”