The Iron King by Julie Kagawa Page B

forest filled with briars, bushes, and tangled undergrowth, you’ll know how impossible it is. I lost track of the times Grimalkin vanished from sight, and I’d spend a few heart-pounding minutes searching for him, hoping I was going the right way. I always felt a desperate relief when I’d finally catch a glimpse of him slinking through the trees ahead, only to go through the same thing minutes later.
    It didn’t help that my mind was occupied with what could’ve happened to Puck. Was he dead, shot down by the dark fey boy and ripped apart by the hounds? Or had he really fled, already resolved that he wasn’t coming back for me, and I could take my chances on my own?
    Fear and anger welled, and my sullen thoughts shifted to my present guide. Grimalkin seemed to know the path we should take, but how did he know where Puck would be? Why should I trust him? What if the devious feline was leading me into some sort of trap?
    As I was entertaining these bleak thoughts, Grimalkin disappeared again.
    Dammit, I’m going to tie a bell around the stupid thing’s neck if it doesn’t stop that. The light was fading, and the forest was even more gray. I stopped and squinted at the bushes, searching for the elusive feline. Up ahead, the bushes rustled, which surprised me. Grimalkin had been completely silent up until now.
    “Human!” whispered a familiar voice, somewhere above me. “Hide!”
    “What?” I said, but it was too late. Twigs snapped, bushes parted, and a slew of creatures spilled into view.
    They were short, ugly things, standing two to three feet high, with knobby yellow-green skin and bulbous noses. Their ears were large and pointed. They wore tattered clothing and carried bone-tipped spears in yellow claws. Their faces were mean and cruel, with beady eyes and mouths full of broken, jagged teeth.
    For a moment, they stopped, blinking in surprise. Then the whole pack of them screeched and swarmed forward, jabbing at me with their spears.
    “What is it? What is it?” snarled one, as I cringed away fromthe stabbing points. Laughter and jeers filled the air as they surrounded me.
    “It’s an elf,” hissed another, giving me a toothy leer. “An elf what lost its ears, maybe.”
    “No, a goat-girl,” cried yet a third. “Good eatin’, them.”
    “She ain’t no goat, cretin! Lookit, she ain’t got no ’ooves!”
    I trembled and looked around for an escape route, but wherever I turned, those sharp bony points were thrust at me.
    “Take ’er to the chief,” someone suggested at last. “The chief’ll know what she is, and if she’s safe to eat.”
    “Right! The chief’ll know!”
    A couple of them rushed me from behind, and I felt a blow to the backs of my knees. With a shriek, I collapsed, and the whole pack of them swarmed me, hooting and hollering. I screamed and kicked, flailing my arms, thrashing under the weight of the creatures. A few went flying into the bushes, but they bounced up with shrill cries and pounced on me again. Blows rained down on me.
    Then something struck me behind the head, making lights explode behind my eyes, and I knew nothing for a time.
     
    I WOKE WITH THE MOTHER OF ALL headaches doing a jig inside my skull. I was in a sitting position, and something that felt like broom handles pressed uncomfortably into my back. Groaning, I probed around my skull, searching for anything cracked or broken. Except for a massive lump just above my hairline, everything seemed to be intact.
    When I was sure I was still in one piece, I opened my eyes.
    And regretted it immediately.
    I was in a cage. A very small cage, made of branches lashed together with leather bindings. There was barely enough room for me to raise my head, and when I moved, something sharppoked me in the arm, drawing blood. I looked closer and saw that many of the branches were covered in thorns about an inch long.
    Beyond the bars, several mud huts sat in no particular arrangement around a large fire pit. The squat, ugly