The wolf’s rumbling laugh disappears under the boom of my father’s voice.
“Now, here’s the tricky part, pumpkin competitors. You’re not simply finding your way out. You have a goal.” Papa taps his nose, eyes twinkling, and I think he could have done well as a TV game show host. “Inside the maze, deep in the twisting alleys of corn, are two scarecrows. They sit equal distance from this entry point.” He waves at the break in the stalks in front of us. “To win, you must find a scarecrow and bring it with you on your exit journey. The winner is the first to return here with your scarecrow companion. However long that takes.”
“Take your time!” Owen calls out from his spot by the cider keg. “We’ve got plenty to drink while you’re away.”
A cheer goes up from the crowd as they raise their glasses in a toast.
“I’m sure Manny would give you time to kick a keg. But I’m planning on getting back before the next round is poured,” I shout back, grinning at the cackles from my witchy supporters.
Manny scoffs. “Think you can outrun me, Bud?”
At first, I was sure I couldn’t. The man is part wolf after all.
But now, my magic thrums to life as my gaze glides over the field of corn before me.
This isn’t some paved road in the middle of the city. I’ll be running over dirt and roots and the living earth that sings to the power under my skin.
“We’ll see.” I crouch down to untie my shoes. The soles of my sneakers suddenly feel too thick and clunky on my feet. I need my skin against soil. My wood witch magic wants to touch the growing things of the world.
“Contenders,” Papa bellows, “please approach the starting line.”
There’s a white line spray-painted on the grass ten feet from the entrance to the maze. Manny and I step up to the marker. I can feel the wolf’s eyes on me, but I refuse to look his way.
“On your mark … get set … GO!” The shout is accompanied by the blare of a horn.
We dive forward. Manny reaches the entrance a step before me and immediately veers right. I choose the left route, wanting distance from him. Besides, there are two scarecrows to find. No reason for us to stay close.
With the sun starting to dip low in the sky, I have a good sense of direction, heading northeast toward what I believe is the middle of the maze. Sometimes, I have to make a series of quick turns, and sometimes, there’re long, straightaway stretches. I prefer the latter because I can let my muscles loose and fly.
My hands dance in the air, calling out magical greetings to the corn. It’s as though the very earth is moving my legs for me, powering me forward at a speed I’ve never reached before.
This—a wild running—might be what I’ve missed most about Folk Haven.
Living among the human population means adhering to certain social standards. Likedon’t run barefoot in the woods. I’ve had to train myself not to loathe jogging down a neatly paved path. One where everything is curated on either side, as if nature was always meant to be organized.
But when I run like this, there is no structure. Only exhilaration.
As much as the sensation threatens to intoxicate me, I maintain my focus on the branching paths, always on the lookout until—there! From the corner of my eye, I spot a flash of red. I turn my eager feet toward the break in the stalks where I spied the color, leaping into the small clearing to find a hay-filled scarecrow, dressed in a red flannel shirt.
“Got you!” I lunge forward and yank the straw-filled man off its wooden post before turning back the way I came.
There’s no sign of Manny. Which could mean that he’s still wandering aimlessly in this tangle of corn-strewn walkways.
Or maybe he found the other scarecrow and is already on his way back to the entrance.
Unwilling to let him claim victory, I gesture with my free fingers, seeking out the teasing magic within my soul, drawing on more of nature’s power to give my feet gas. Sprinting, I choose paths that lead me southwest, my eyes on the sun and the gaps in the corn ahead of me.
Then, I hear it.
The steadythump, thump, thumpof pounding feet.
I round a corner and almost collide with a sweaty Manny. The wolf is breathing hard, pieces of corn sticking to his glistening skin, long brown hair tangled around his chin.
And in his right hand, he clutches a floppy scarecrow of his own.
“Hey, Bud.” When his eyes drop to my inanimate companion, a grin takes over his mouth. “Well, look at that. You’re keeping up.”
“Get out of my way.” I dodge around his hulking form and push my legs to go faster.
