We walk in silence, our shoes crunching through the underbrush for what feels like ages.
Up ahead, the trees glow like something from a dream. It’s difficult to tell if they’re lit from within or if it’s a trick of the light, and it sets my teeth on edge. “What is that?” Marion asks for all of us.
Rhion shoots a glare at Faith. “The seasons are changing. The trees are annoyed.”
“I didn’t realize they could hear me!” she protests.
“Hush, the both of you,” Lydia scolds. “The trees aren’t annoyed, they’re... concerned.”
As we approach, it’s like we’re stepping through time. In a blink, the dark, crisp autumn gives way to damp spring, ablaze with midday light.
I shield my eyes from the sun, so disoriented it’s like the world has tipped beneath me.
Rhion is silent for a moment, like he’s listening to a message on the breeze. “It’s just a trick. We should carry on.”
Our moods are noticeably tenser as we continue. My slippers quickly grow damp with dew, rotting fruit, and crushed pink flower petals that litter the ground. The sun on the back of my neck is making me sweat. It plays over the leaves, casting patterns like light on water.
And then there’s the weight of Emmett’s gaze on me.
After an hour or so of walking, we come across a silver babbling brook, and above it, a quaint little bridge in the shape of a crescent moon.
“We’ll go over one by one,” Rhion explains. “Does everyone have their button?”
I brush the cool metal where it rests in the pocket of my cloak. We all nod.
“Good,” Rhion says. “There’s a spirit who lives under the bridge. Drop the button into the water while you think of a memory associated with it.”
“With the button?” Faith clarifies.
“Yes, the button.”
“How do we know it’s not a trick and you’re not just bargaining away our bones to the creature or something?” Emmett asks.
“Yourbones?” Rhion asks, his blue eyes wide with disgust. “Emmett De Vere, you have a horrifying imagination.”
“But, like, just the bones?” Faith asks.
“We’d be gooey but otherwise unharmed?” Marion adds.
“Ew.” I swat Marion’s arm. “Don’t use the wordgooey.”
“Floppy?” Marion asks.
“Nothing is going to happen to your bones!” Rhion shouts.
Lydia laughs.
“I’ll go first, how about that?” Rhion offers. “You’ll see that my bones and I are completely unharmed.”
Emmett bites the inside of his cheek. “We’ve come this far. I suppose that’s fair.”
The bridge looks as if it could have been constructed yesterday. The wood is shiny and free of rot. There are even two baskets of fresh pansies hanging cheerily off its posts.
“Follow quickly,” Rhion instructs, and we all arrange ourselves into a single-file line behind him. “I don’t want you in this part of the forest without me.”
With one last, longing glance at Lydia, he steps onto the bridge. His footsteps echo as he crosses the wooden planks, but right as he reaches the crest, he disappears. Gone. Like he was never there at all.
“Rhion!” Lydia calls. She’s so panicked her voice cracks around his name. “Rhion!”
