The Whispering Trees by J. A. White Page A

air. It struck the boulder next to them and exploded into a thousand droplets, most of which ran down the rock and vanished into the hidden ground below.
    â€œI’m such a fool,” Mary said. “The rain. Why didn’t I think of it?”
    From all around them, as far as Kara could see, watercreatures were pulling themselves out of the crevices between the boulders. Some looked like the millipede that had attacked Taff; others were spiderlike with spindly legs. And then there were those creatures cursed with no shape at all, slinking toward Kara like puddles with teeth.
    Lightning flashed, revealing a sky awash with water bats and translucent ravens that swooped and darted above their prey.
    No longer heeding Mary’s warning to travel cautiously, Kara leaped from boulder to boulder. The storm had risen to a torrent and it was difficult to see more than a few feet in front of her, but even through the pounding storm she could hear the tinkle-tinkle of Mary’s bag and used that to guide her instead.
    The water creatures attacked them from every side—from below and above as well. With each bite Kara felt a mild shock shoot through her body; this rain, born from thunderclouds, had inherited some of its properties. Shekept moving, doing her best to dodge the shapes that skittered across the rocky surfaces. There was no use fighting the creatures; for every one she stepped on or clapped between her hands, countless more took its place. The crevices between the boulders became jammed and swollen with new creations, anxious to escape and join the hunt.
    And the rain kept falling.
    Kara stumbled and landed on her knee, wincing in pain. Before her, less than an arm’s length from her face, a translucent jellyfish splayed across the boulder on dozens of tentacles. The inside of the creature glowed faintly, and within its interior ocean creatures moved and swam and gnashed at one another with bestial violence. By instinct Kara reached out to the jellyfish’s mind, hoping to build a mind-bridge, but this was a simulacrum and there was no connection to be made.
    A single tentacle rose in the air and tensed like a python, but before it could strike, Taff sailed over Kara’shead and landed on the jellyfish, smashing it into oblivion.
    Pulling his sister to her feet he shouted, “We’re almost there!”
    Sure enough, through shards of rain Kara glimpsed the canopy and dark trees of the Thickety, the familiar shapes that had terrified her throughout her childhood now a welcome beacon of shelter and safety. Her knee throbbed with pain, but she knew she couldn’t slow down.
    Just a little farther. . . .
    They neared the end of the Draye’varg, and the creatures began to attack with even greater fervor. A raven with rippling wings like waterfalls landed on Taff’s back, pushing him to the ground. Kara punched it with an open hand. It was like passing her hand through a spout of icy cold water, leaving an angry red welt across her palm.
    When Kara looked up, they were surrounded.
    Banding together, the simulacra had tightened their forces around the children so that there was no escape in any direction. Boulders swelled with waves of falselife, far too many to dodge, a glistening sheen of jaws and teeth and mandibles. Above the children looped waterbirds, tiny bolts of lightning snapping between their open beaks.
    Kara knelt next to her brother, her injured knee making a disheartening popping sound. Taff’s blond hair hung down in dripping tendrils across his forehead.
    â€œStay close to me,” Kara said.
    She listened .
    They were close enough to the trees that she could once again hear voices whispering FEED and HIDE and other common thoughts. Kara threaded her way through this storm of sounds, searching not for a particular animal but a particular need . When she found it she clenched her hands into tight fists and sent a message: Come! I have what you seek! Hurry!