Where the Woods Grow Wild by Nate Philbrick

Author:Nate Philbrick
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2016-12-10T05:00:00+00:00

9. Flight to the Minnowchuck

Elodie wandered down a gradual slope into a shallow valley. Fog rose from the damp ground, which was soft and thick with moss. The trees groped at each other with twisted branches, and tangles of thorny thickets gnawed at their roots. Lizards scuttled across the path without a care in the world.

Elodie was lost. Once on the other side of the river, she had tried to keep her course straight in the hopes of eventually breaking free of the woods, but it didn’t take long for her to conclude that she had crossed a different river altogether. Instead of backtracking to the forest boundaries, she had delved deeper in.

Elodie knew that, when lost, the best way to be found was to remain in one place and wait for people to come to you. Here, however, she didn’t think that rule applied. No one was looking for her except Martin, and she didn’t see how sitting still would speed up the process.

She tried to go back to the river. Risking a second encounter with dryads seemed better than spending the rest of her life drifting through an endless forest. By that time, however, her sense of direction had gotten thoroughly muddled. She couldn’t find the river anywhere. Blisters stung on her feet, her legs ached, and she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast with Nub.

To make matters worse, the sun was going down. Daylight was fading, and if she didn’t find help quickly, she would have to spend the night out in the cold. At least in the dryad palace she had had a room to keep her warm. There was no telling what further misfortune awaited her in the woods.

Elodie kept moving, seeking a shelter for the night. Fog rose from the ground. It swirled at her feet, then her legs, and finally around her middle. It didn’t part and float away when she walked through it, as she expected fog to behave, but instead it wrapped around her so snuggly that she couldn’t see her own feet.

She wouldn’t have been surprised to find a giant ladling thick billows of mist like soup from a pot. A bird with black feathers alighted on a branch nearby and squawked. Elodie jolted and put her hand to her drumming heart.

She glared at the bird. “Don’t do that.”

The black bird squawked once more in defiance and flapped away. Elodie waited until it was gone before moving again. Now she eyed the trees around her warily, expecting something worse than a bird to jump out.

At last she gave up and sat with her back against a tree and pulled her knees to her chest. The sun blinked out. Walking around at night sounded like a terrible idea, so Elodie tried to sleep. Though she was physically exhausted, her mind kept her awake with thoughts of Martin, clean clothes, and her warm room. She wanted to be home.

For a long time she hugged her knees, staring at the ground between her feet. Clouds covered the sky and rain broke the fog.

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