Page 13 of Lakesedge

I stand up, groaning at how much I ache. “I’m fine.”

We go on. I keep my gaze fixed on the path ahead, searching for a way through the trees. Every now and then I pause, straining to listen, all my muscles wound up into an ever-tightening coil with each moment that passes. The woods are full of strange noises: night birds, the creak of wood, the rustle of leaves.

And beyond that—indistinct and angry—comes a voice. The monster, calling Arien’s name.

Behind me, Arien falters, staring back toward the sound. I pull at his arm. “Don’t stop!”

We go farther and farther. The forest is endless. Our breathbecomes labored, and my lungs burn. The light starts to fade from gray, to soot, to pitch-black as the trees close in. Even the faint moonlight that illuminates the pale branches has gone.

Arien trips, then catches himself against me. “You should have stolen a torch,” he whispers, irritated.

A feverish laugh snags in my throat. “I’ll remember that next time we’re running away from a monster.”

Then the monster’s voice, harsh and furious, echoes through the trees, and we fall into a desperate silence. I tug on Arien’s arm, guiding him forward between two pale trunks. We go on swiftly through the dark.

The air is hot, the summer heat trapped by the latticed branches. Sweat soaks my dress and tracks down my spine. I swipe my sleeve over my forehead and lift the heavy weight of my hair from my neck. Surrounded by the trees and the heat and the dark, I can’t see, can’t catch my breath. But we have to keep moving.

I run with my hand outstretched, grasping at the air in front of me. There’s a crunch of leaves, a wrench on my arm. Arien staggers back, his hand torn loose from mine as I fall forward.

“Arien?” I turn in a circle, searching. “Where are you?”

“I’m here!” He sounds muffled, far away. “Leta? I can’t see anything!”

Then his voice is cut off, an absence that’s filled with the night. I hold my breath, trying to listen for him through the dark. “Arien!”

My fingers strike against another trunk. But rather thancold and smooth, the bark is wet, smeared with a thick, oozing liquid. I snatch my hand back and scrub it against my skirts. The ground is damp, too. Mud catches my boots as cold moisture seeps in through my stockings and over my feet.

I’m in a clear space, ringed by trees. Skeletal roots jut from the forest floor. In the canopy above there’s a bare piece of sky—star specked, lit by the moon.

And at the center of the clearing is a single, tall tree. Its bark isn’t pale but an oily, midnight black.

The grove is blighted. The magic in the earth—the Lady’s light that flows through the world—is poisoned with darkness from the world Below, and it’s spread through the ground, the roots, the trees. It happened in the almond orchard near Greymere once, but never as bad as this. Here, even the air feels wrong.

My feet cut through the sodden earth as I pace the clearing, but whatever path led me here has now vanished. I’m caged by trees. Arien weaves back and forth on the other side, trying to find a way through. He looks at me, his face a frightened sliver between the trunks, before he’s swallowed up by the gloom.

Then a low growl cuts through the air.

“Arien?”

He doesn’t answer. Everything is still. I can’t even hear the monster.

The growl comes again.

I press back against the edge of the grove, my pulse thudding hard. Behind the poisoned tree there’s a blurred movement. Acreature comes out from the darkness, hunched close to the ground.

It takes form. Long legs, a tail, pointed ears.

Sharp teeth.

A wolf.

Head lowered, it stalks forward. I’m frozen by fear, captured by the intent sharpness of its eyes. It gathers itself, teeth bared, a growl in the depths of its throat.

I shout over my shoulder. “Run, Arien! You have to run, you—”

The wolf leaps. I throw myself down and curl forward, closing my eyes as I wait for those teeth to tear through my skin.

Then a bright wave of heat flares past my face. I look up hurriedly. The monster is there, tall and dark andfurious, with a pine torch clutched in one hand. Arien is behind him, wielding a broken branch.

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