Page 37 of Soul of Shadow
“That’s askogsrå,” Elias whispered. “A wood wife. Mistress of this entire forest—except the ash trees, which are considered the most sacred and each have their own ash wife that lives within them. Anyway. It’s very rare to see a wood wife. They usually disguise themselves by turning into trees or animals.”
At last, he loosened his grip on Charlie’s mouth, which allowed her to whisper, “Is she dangerous?”
“Extremely,” he said. “Like all spirits of nature, she can either help you do great things or curse you to a life of misery, depending on her mood.”
“Depending on hermood?”
“Yes. If you piss off a wood wife, she’ll distort your vision so that you’re forced to wander in circles around the forest, never finding your way out.”
“Jesus,” Charlie whispered.
“But if you win her favor…” Abruptly, Elias released Charlie and grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, yanking it up and over his head and revealing a tightly muscled abdomen underneath.
Charlie hissed, “What the hell are you—”
“Quick,” he whispered. “Turn your shirt inside out.”
“Dowhat?”
“I’m serious.” He gestured impatiently with one hand. “Hurry.”
“But why—”
“Justdo it.”
“Fine. Then turn around.”
Elias rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Charlotte. Just take—”
She shoved his shoulder, warm to the touch, until he finally gave in and turned around.
Sensing that this was a task of great importance, Charlie obliged. She lifted her shirt over her head and turned it inside out. As she worked, her eyes couldn’t help but stray to Elias’s bare shoulders. She was keenly aware that they were standing less than a foot apart—him shirtless, her in nothing but a bra. She worked as quickly as possible to pull the now-inverted shirt back onto her body.
“Done,” she whispered. “You can turn now.”
As he turned, he finished putting on his own T-shirt. The hem drifted back down to cover the V of muscle just above his belt.
“Now,” he said. “We’re going to speak to her.”
“We’re going to…what?”
But her protests went unheeded, because Elias had already pushed his way through the branches and out into the clearing where the wood wife sat astride her reindeer.
“Shit,” Charlie muttered as she hurried after him.
“Mistress of the wood,” Elias said when he arrived before the spirit. He dropped to one knee, bowing his head. “My name is Elias Everhart.”
Charlie hovered awkwardly a few feet behind him, unsure if she should bow as well. She stepped from side to side, alternating between looking at the wood wife and the forest floor.
When the wood wife spoke, her voice sounded like the creaking of old branches, the whisper of wind through falling leaves. “I know who you are, child.” She didn’t smile or frown. Her expression was entirely neutral. “You are the mare of night who lives within my forest.”
“That’s right,” he said. Still, he didn’t look up or rise from his knee.
“I know everyone who comes and goes from these woods,” she said. “I am the forest, and the forest is me. Walking her dirt is akin to treading on my own chest.”
“I am aware of the depths of your power, mistress.” At last, Elias looked up at the wood wife, who towered over him from her place on the reindeer. “And I seek your assistance in a matter concerning this forest.”
The falcon on her shoulder ruffled its feathers. “You are in search of information.”
