Wayfarer by R.J. Anderson Page B

go back to your proper size. But…” Linden’s brows furrowed as she considered the problem from every angle. At last she said with more confidence, “Yes. We’ll have to try it. It’s the only way.”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Timothy, though he soundedreluctant to admit it. “Bringing a human into the Oak—isn’t it going to get you in a lot of trouble? It might be easier if I just took a train to France or something.”
    â€œI’ll hide you from the others,” she said. “At least until we’ve had a chance to talk to the Queen and tell her our story. She’s very wise; I’m sure she’ll understand. Especially once she hears about the Empress wanting to kill you.”
    And perhaps, if the Oakenfolk did Timothy this favor, he might even be willing to repay them by helping Linden search for more faeries. After all, two travelers were safer than one, and surely the Empress wouldn’t keep hunting for them forever?
    Timothy looked out across the station, eyes distant as he considered her offer. Then he stood up, reaching for his guitar case.
    â€œAll right,” he said. “Hop into my pack, and we’ll go.”
    Â 
    By the time Timothy stepped off the train at Aynsbridge, the sun was just visible over the treetops, like a white hole punched through the sky. The air smelled clean here, damp and earthy, and as he walked down the steps from the platform into the parking lot the breeze that chased him felt surprisingly mild. Still, he was glad for his extra layer of clothing, and he could only hope that the Oak would be warm.
    â€œLinden?” he said. “You can come out now.” But she didn’t answer. Carefully Timothy slid the backpackoff his shoulders, lifted the flap to look—and there lay Linden, fast asleep. Her wings were folded against her back, and she had curled herself up in a nest made from one of his shirts.
    So small, thought Timothy. Even now, it seemed impossible that the girl who had rescued him from Veronica could also be a faery tiny enough to stow away in his backpack. Not to mention how strange it was that in the space of just one night, this same faery had somehow become a friend.
    Yet Linden was so different from anyone else he’d met in the last few months that Timothy couldn’t help liking her. She didn’t judge him by the shoes he wore, or what music he enjoyed, or who his parents were; she hadn’t insisted that he share her beliefs or live by certain rules to please her. She’d just accepted Timothy as he was—even more than that, she’d risked her life to help him. How could he not be grateful for that?
    Timothy slipped his arms back through the straps of the backpack and set off again, treading softly so as not to wake Linden. Aside from the occasional passing car the road before him was deserted, and he dared to hope that Rob had been right: They’d escaped the city before the Empress and her servants could find them, and if they could just make it to the Oak, they’d be safe.
    Half an hour later, Linden was still asleep, and Timothy had left the village well behind. The familiar wood rose upon one side of the road as he walked; he came around the bend and there, in the near distance, stood Oakhaven.
    Time to get off the road, before Paul or Peri saw him. Turning off just short of the stone bridge, Timothy followed the footpath along the riverbank, dodging in and out among the trees until he reached the wood’s northeast corner. He could see the Oak now, stark and majestic against the pallid sky—but in between lay open meadow, and how could he get across without being seen?
    Timothy set down his guitar and lowered his pack to the ground. “Linden, wake up.”
    He heard a rustle, and then Linden emerged from beneath the flap, stretching and yawning. “What is it?” she asked, and then, “Oh!” as she saw the Oak. She