I adjusted Kassie in my arms, cradling her into my chest as we glided down further into the trees to a place where we won’t be disturbed. Because anyone who ventured here would have much difficulty, and I would know when they were approaching.
Chapter Thirty
Kassie
Ascratching sound pulled me from sleep. It came in bursts of tiny claws or feet skittering across something rough and uneven, like an animal moving across tree bark.
I summoned what little strength I had and rolled onto my side. Instead of the hard branch I expected, I felt something springy beneath me. A silky blanket cocooned my body, and as my heavy eyelids finally lifted, I discovered a canopy of tree limbs stretching across the sky above me.
That’s new.
The scratching came again. I turned my head and spotted the culprit—a small squirrel perched at the edge of my strange bed, its tiny paws testing the thick white webbing that held the leaf bed together.
The squirrel cocked its head from one side to the other, examining me and the strange suspended nest I occupied among the branches. I shared its confusion with this death trap; it was unlike anything I'd ever seen before.
What was this?
The squirrel tested the strange material with one tentative paw, then another. I rolled my eyes. "If it can support a human, it can definitely hold a tiny thing like you," I thought. Apparently convinced, the little creature finally hopped onto the webbed surface and began darting around the perimeter, always staying just beyond my grasp.
Unlike the adventurous squirrel, I hesitated to move. When I finally gathered my courage to sit up, I realized someone had dressed me while I slept. Gone was my nakedness, replaced by a fitted white nightgown that clung to my body in all the right places and somehow managed to support my chest without feeling restrictive.
Did he?
I lifted the white blanket, which was also made of silk and yup, he made me a pair of panties, but there was an easy access hole for himself.
What a perv.
I love it!
I gently moved around on the trampoline, just in case anything came loose. I don’t know how he got silk to attach it to a tree and stick a bunch of leaves together to make this. Silk is supposed to be the strongest fabric when woven together, but I wasn’t taking any chances. What if it wasn’t silk?
I crawled across the silky surface toward the sound of rushing water. The suspended bed stretched so wide that it took a full minute of careful movement before I reached the edge, where I could see the stream below.
When I stopped at the far edge, I clutched a branch to steady myself and realized what I'd been hearing wasn't merely a stream. About twenty feet away stood a waterfall, not towering or majestic, but somehow commanding attention, as if it held secrets older than the forest itself.
Something about the falls made my breath catch. They seemed older than the forest itself, as if they'd witnessed the passing of centuries while everything else crumbled and changed around them. On the far bank, the rocks were nearly black, while those nearest me gleamed pale and luminous, catching fragments of light that filtered through the canopy above.
This side of the falls was alive with emerald grass, velvet moss, and leaves that trembled on the branches above. Beautiful, yes, but not the enchanted woodland from storybooks—something darker lingered in the shadows between trees. Even in its lushness, this forest felt watchful, unsettling in ways I couldn't name. But compared to what waited across the water, this side might as well have been paradise.
The other side of the stream was a nightmare realm. Skeletal tree limbs reached like gnarled fingers into a perpetual twilight. Thorny brambles choked the ground, and what I first thought were pale stones along the water's edge revealed themselves as actual bones… femurs, ribs, even a few unmistakable skulls. All my hours of gaming through digital horror couldn't prepare me for the primal fear that crawled up my spine at seeing actual death scattered so casually before me.
Why was there such a difference?
And where was Atlas?
Movement below caught my eye. Atlas knelt by the water's edge, methodically running his hands over his arms, face, and neck in a careful ritual. I watched, fascinated, as he repeated the motions with such focus that I suddenly understood. He was grooming himself, unable to bathe in the stream like I would.
He can’t get in the water…
“Hey, Atlas?” I whispered, trying not to startle him. He was still startled because he let out a squeal and fell over onto the grass.
I snorted and shook my head as he stood back up and dusted himself off. Still no jeans or the infamous plaid shirt, just in all his Mothman glory.
“Good morn— I mean good afternoon, my soul.” Atlas flapped his wings several times until he rose into the air.
I scooted back from the edge as Atlas descended, his wings folding elegantly as he perched on the rim of my silk suspension nest where it connected to the branches.
“Did I wake you?” He tilted his head and rubbed his hands together nervously.
