Whisper of the Woods by D. G. Driver

Author:D. G. Driver
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: urban fantasy, environmentalism, mermaids, earth magic, native american mythology, mythological creatures, tree spirit, teen girl magic, teen magic romance, tree magic

Chapter Ten

It was very quiet in the woods after everyone left to take Ronnie to the hospital. Dad went with them. It was his nephew, after all, and I think he felt mildly responsible in the whole he-sired-me-and-I-failed-him kind of way. Except for asking me what happened, he didn’t say anything else to me. He didn’t even tell me when he’d be back as he gathered up his broken tent, chair and the walkie-talkie and followed the paramedics out of the woods.

I knew my dad wouldn’t leave me completely alone. Randy or someone from the protest group had to be back at camp. Although that hardly mattered because I knew no one could hear me through the walkie-talkie at the camp. I realized now that they were all gone that no one had brought me anything to eat. My stomach grumbled, and I wondered if the little pinecones growing around me were edible. I scrounged through my limited stash of belongings in the pail and found the last granola bar, the cinnamon oats flavor. It tasted awful and dried out my mouth. I had only a couple swallows left in my water bottle, not nearly enough to quench my thirst.

Hours passed slowly as I waited for someone to come and tell me Ronnie was going to be all right. It seemed to me that if his injuries weren’t too horrible, I’d have heard something quickly. Dad would be back, maybe with Mom, once again conniving how to yank me out of this tree. No one came and no one came. That meant Ronnie must’ve been bad off. He was stabbed twice, banged against the tree, dropped and kicked. There had to be broken bones, internal bleeding, and all those other scary words they used in hospital shows. I bet he had to have surgery. I prayed he wasn’t paralyzed.

I spent a lot of the day yelling at the tree, trying to get it to respond to me. “We’re alone,” I told it. “No one will see but me. If you’re trying to be secretive or mysterious, don’t bother. I already know what you can do.” That got one of those rumbles that felt a little like the tree was laughing at me. The meanness of it shut me up.

Late in the day, when the sun had already begun to dip below the tree line where I couldn’t see it anymore, Wilson appeared below and called up to me. This member of the protest team was the last person I expected to show up. I barely knew the guy and hadn’t spoken with him much. He had a heavy plastic bag in his hand and binoculars around his neck. This guy was shorter than me, with thin, dark blonde hair that he kept brushed neatly to the side. From above I could see he was balding a bit at the top. I’d never noticed that before. Wilson had to be in his early thirties, but he seemed fragile like an old man.

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