think we should turn the carriage around and go back the other way,” Braeden said sharply, obviously perturbed by his comment about the dog.
Mr. Crankshod agreed, but at that moment, a loud cracking sound filled the forest air. Serafina crouched, prepared to spring. A great shattering of wood erupted into an explosive crash as a
large tree fell across the road behind them.
The horses squealed in panic and went up rearing and striking, pulling on their leather harnesses and dragging the carriage across the ground even though the brake was engaged and the wheels
wouldn’t turn. Their instinct was to run, whether they were free of the harnesses or not.
Braeden ran forward to help them.
“No, Braeden!” Serafina cried as she reached to stop him. The boy seemed determined to get himself killed by a horse kick.
Braeden leapt in front of the horses. He was able to calm them with a few soft words and quickly got them under control. Seeing that he was safe, Serafina scanned the forest in the direction of
the fallen tree. That’s when she realized that the worst had happened: the carriage, its four horses, the four humans, and the dog were now trapped on a section of road between two trees.
Mr. Crankshod, gripping the ax, stomped to the back of the carriage and shouted furiously into the darkness, “Who’s out there? Show yourselves, you rotten, filthy swine!”
Serafina looked into the darkness waiting for an answer to come, but Mr. Crankshod’s words drifted out into the black nothingness without reply.
“Mr. Crankshod,” Braeden said firmly, “we need to go back to cutting the tree in front of us. The safest course now is to press on to Asheville.”
“I just hope we can get there,” Mr. Crankshod carped beneath his breath, stomping back.
As Mr. Crankshod, Braeden, and Nolan worked on the tree, Serafina couldn’t help but look behind the carriage where the most recent tree had fallen. Gidean was looking in that direction as
well, his eyes black in the starlight.
“What do you think, boy?” she whispered as she crouched beside him and peered into the darkness. “Is there something out there?” She and the dog were on the same side
now.
She wondered about the second fallen tree. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Someone was deliberately blocking them in so that they could not escape.
She scanned the forest. She had good senses, but she knew she couldn’t smell nearly as well as Gidean, and he seemed to smell something right now. He wasn’t barking anymore, but was
staring intently into the forest, waiting for something to appear. For all his faults as a dog, he was a brave defender.
But she hated this: the looking, the waiting, feeling like a trap was slowly surrounding them. She couldn’t stand it. She didn’t know how to defend; she knew how to
hunt
. And
right now, it felt like they were the ones being hunted, and she didn’t like the feeling one bit.
She took a few steps forward into the trees to see how it felt. Her skin crawled with equal parts fear and excitement. She was drawn into the forest. Her instinct was telling her to go
deeper.
She took a few more steps.
Gidean looked at her and tilted his head as if to say,
Are you crazy? You can’t go in there!
But then she padded quietly into the trees and ducked into the underbrush. She wanted to move, to prowl, to see what was out there, whatever it was. She wanted to be the hunter, not the
hunted.
Leaving Gidean to guard the carriage, she crept deeper and deeper into the darkness of the forest, the very same black forest that her father had told her never to enter, the very same dark
forest that Crankshod had said was filled with ghosts and demons.
But she was calm. She was in the right place. She figured if her mother could move through the forest at night, then so could she.
Suddenly, she heard the sounds of footfalls in the brush in front of her, as clear as a rat’s footsteps in the basement, but much louder, much
larger
,
Mr. Crankshod agreed, but at that moment, a loud cracking sound filled the forest air. Serafina crouched, prepared to spring. A great shattering of wood erupted into an explosive crash as a
large tree fell across the road behind them.
The horses squealed in panic and went up rearing and striking, pulling on their leather harnesses and dragging the carriage across the ground even though the brake was engaged and the wheels
wouldn’t turn. Their instinct was to run, whether they were free of the harnesses or not.
Braeden ran forward to help them.
“No, Braeden!” Serafina cried as she reached to stop him. The boy seemed determined to get himself killed by a horse kick.
Braeden leapt in front of the horses. He was able to calm them with a few soft words and quickly got them under control. Seeing that he was safe, Serafina scanned the forest in the direction of
the fallen tree. That’s when she realized that the worst had happened: the carriage, its four horses, the four humans, and the dog were now trapped on a section of road between two trees.
Mr. Crankshod, gripping the ax, stomped to the back of the carriage and shouted furiously into the darkness, “Who’s out there? Show yourselves, you rotten, filthy swine!”
Serafina looked into the darkness waiting for an answer to come, but Mr. Crankshod’s words drifted out into the black nothingness without reply.
“Mr. Crankshod,” Braeden said firmly, “we need to go back to cutting the tree in front of us. The safest course now is to press on to Asheville.”
“I just hope we can get there,” Mr. Crankshod carped beneath his breath, stomping back.
As Mr. Crankshod, Braeden, and Nolan worked on the tree, Serafina couldn’t help but look behind the carriage where the most recent tree had fallen. Gidean was looking in that direction as
well, his eyes black in the starlight.
“What do you think, boy?” she whispered as she crouched beside him and peered into the darkness. “Is there something out there?” She and the dog were on the same side
now.
She wondered about the second fallen tree. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Someone was deliberately blocking them in so that they could not escape.
She scanned the forest. She had good senses, but she knew she couldn’t smell nearly as well as Gidean, and he seemed to smell something right now. He wasn’t barking anymore, but was
staring intently into the forest, waiting for something to appear. For all his faults as a dog, he was a brave defender.
But she hated this: the looking, the waiting, feeling like a trap was slowly surrounding them. She couldn’t stand it. She didn’t know how to defend; she knew how to
hunt
. And
right now, it felt like they were the ones being hunted, and she didn’t like the feeling one bit.
She took a few steps forward into the trees to see how it felt. Her skin crawled with equal parts fear and excitement. She was drawn into the forest. Her instinct was telling her to go
deeper.
She took a few more steps.
Gidean looked at her and tilted his head as if to say,
Are you crazy? You can’t go in there!
But then she padded quietly into the trees and ducked into the underbrush. She wanted to move, to prowl, to see what was out there, whatever it was. She wanted to be the hunter, not the
hunted.
Leaving Gidean to guard the carriage, she crept deeper and deeper into the darkness of the forest, the very same black forest that her father had told her never to enter, the very same dark
forest that Crankshod had said was filled with ghosts and demons.
But she was calm. She was in the right place. She figured if her mother could move through the forest at night, then so could she.
Suddenly, she heard the sounds of footfalls in the brush in front of her, as clear as a rat’s footsteps in the basement, but much louder, much
larger
,
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