Altered Destiny by Shawna Thomas

devoid of foliage and as colorless as sun-bleached bones. As she watched, the pattern in the mists changed in such a way it appeared they had become aware of her and now beckoned. Come closer .
    Selia stepped back, though the desire to walk into the meadow grew. She glanced down the road as it veered sharply to the west, leaving the meadow between it and the White Forest.
    She retraced her steps, feeling oddly vulnerable, like she shouldn’t turn her back on the mists. After finding one of her snares occupied, she returned to camp to clean and cook her catch.
    The camp lay away from the road, far enough so a fire wouldn’t be seen, even through the thinning trees. Tonight, she needed the warmth and light of a fire. As she chewed on a stale piece of bread waiting for her rabbit to cook, an idea formed, one so ridiculous that she dismissed it at once. She knew the road turned west, looping around the White Forest and taking at least three or four days to travel. But by all accounts, though long, the White Forest wasn’t deep. It stretched like a finger from the Wastes into the green lands. She could save time by going through it.
    No one crosses the White Forest and lives.
    The voice echoed in her head as if the trees around her spoke the warning, but she’d heard the assertion from one of her customers at the tavern. Living close to the Wastes taught one there were strange things in the world, and sometimes the strange things had teeth. But she was also practical. Part of the fear the White Forest inspired in her was probably due to the legends. Her nerves had been stretched tight for so long, she was jumping at shadows. Jaden had proven many of the rumors about Svistra wrong; perhaps the gossip about the White Forest was equally unfounded. They were just trees. And trees, even strange white trees, couldn’t hurt anyone. It would take no more than a day to cross and, if she hurried and kept her bow ready and an arrow nocked, she should be okay.
    Her stomach tightened and rolled, apparently trying to dissuade her. But the sooner she reached Oren, the better. Selia rolled up in her blanket and pulled the staked rabbit out of the fire, refusing to debate the issue. In the morning, she’d set off and let the Trickster decide.
     
    The White Forest stretched out from horizon to horizon. The sun’s early light failed to penetrate the mists. Grasses in the meadow crunched beneath her boots as though the blades were frozen or dead. Selia didn’t stop to determine which; her gaze didn’t waver from the tall bleached trunks surrounded by the swirling pale, almost silvery mist.
    Her curiosity grew with each step. She understood why they said the forest was dead. The trees resembled bones more than branches, but their nakedness was only an illusion. Thin, almost transparent pale leaves shuddered on the white branches. Unlike the trees in winter that shed their leaves and wore a mantle of snow for a season, these trees didn’t bear the promise of life. Yet the forest felt far from dead. As she drew closer, a sensation of expectation increased. It waited for her.
    There was no moment when she crossed from the open air into the forest, at least not one she could perceive. It was a seamless transition. One moment she was under the blue sky, clouds skating along between the mountain ranges. The next she walked between the chalky tree trunks, shrouded in a perpetual mist eddying between gnarled branches or drifting down to linger among brittle-looking waxy flowers peppering the forest floor. The ground gave under her footstep, like thick moss, but as pale as the trees.
    After a while, she could differentiate shades of white. The flowers grew on stalks a slightly darker shade than that of their petals and scented the air with a delicate sweet fragrance. The mist held a hint of silver in its cool breath and swirled among the trees, though she perceived no breeze and the leaves of the trees remained static.
    Twice she spun around, sensing