Children of the Gates by Andre Norton Page A

arm hurrying her along, intent on regaining the safety of the house with all possible speed. But now he realized that he was not sure of the direction. Though it was much lighter than when he had set forth, he could sight nothing here as a landmark he remembered. As he studied the ground he hoped for some mark there to guide them.
    Yes! His momentary uneasiness passed—here—and there—He need only follow those quite distinct marks and they would lead them back to safety.
    Odd, he would not have believed they were so far from the house. It had seemed, remembering, that he had not been too long under the trees before he had caught up with Linda. But the tracks were plain enough to keep him going.
    Until they pushed under the last tree, past the last bush to face not the building, but an open meadow with knee-high grass and tall spikes of yellow flowers. There were more trees a distance away, but to Nick all of this was totally unfamiliar.
    He had retraced their own tracks—then how—Their tracks? A small chill grew inside him—whose tracks? Or had those been tracks at all? As the lure of the singing, and the whistling that had drawn Lung, had those been signs deliberately made to draw them on, away from safety?
    “What are we doing here, Nick?”
    Linda was caressing the now subdued Lung. Perhaps she had not even paid attention to where they had headed.
    “I thought we were headed for the house. We must have been turned around back there.”
    The only thing to do, of course, was to return in the opposite direction. But he had the greatest reluctance to do that. Fear of the ill-omened glade made him unwilling to voluntarily enter it again. What was happening to him that he was afraid—actually afraid—of the woods?
    “We’ll have to try to go through it.” He spoke his thoughts aloud, more than to her. Nick was determined not to yield to that growing aversion to the necessity for retracing their way.
    “No, Nick!” Linda jerked back when he would have drawn her with him. “Not in there.”
    “Don’t be silly! We have to get back to the house.”
    She shook her head. “Nick, are you sure, absolutely sure, that you can?”
    “What do you mean? This is no forest. We got through it one way, and that didn’t take us hours. Sure we can go back.”
    “I don’t believe it. And I won’t.” It was as if she braced herself against his will. “I won’t go back in there!”
    Nick was hot with exasperation. But he could not drag her, and he was sure he would have to if they went in that direction.
    “We’ve got to get back to the house,” he repeated.
    “Then we’ll go around.” Linda turned her back on him and began to walk along the outer fringe of the brush and trees.
    Nick scowled. He could not leave her here alone, and short of knocking her out and carrying her—
    Kicking at a clod of earth, though that hardly relieved his feelings, he set out after her.
    “We’re going to have to go a long way around.”
    “So we’re going the long way around,” Linda snapped. “At least we can see where we are going. Nothing is going to get behind some tree to pick us off as we go by. Nick, the woods—had things in it besides her! I could feel them, if I couldn’t see them.”
    “The tracks.” He brought into words his own fear. “They led us out here—perhaps to trap us.”
    “I don’t care! I can see anything that comes here.”
    But she was willing to hurry, Nick noted. And they followed the edge of the woods, heading south, at a pace that was close to a trot. He hoped this detour would not take long, he was hungry and he was also worried as to how the others would accept their absence. The English might believe that he and Linda had cut out on their own.
    No, they had left their bags, everything they owned now. A little reassured at that thought, Nick decided that the others would not clear out and leave them. Maybe right now they were in a search party, hunting. Suppose he called?
    But he could not.