Arthur hadn’t gotten far, however, when the trees thickened.A few yards later, they took on menacing shapes. This one twisted like a man looking over his shoulder. That one had a cavity open in a silent scream. A third reached for him with fingerlike branches. He skittered away, but another clawed into his back.
He yelped, trying to break free. Everywhere he turned were more horrible, humanlike trees, each frozen in an aspect of terror. His heart hammered. Branches grabbed at his coat, dragging him deeper into their midst. Whispers sounded in his ears. Arthur slapped branches away, but they smacked him in the face. His cheeks and forehead stung.
Snow crunched nearby. “Arthur!”
“Over here!”
Arthur’s breathing was ragged. Trees groaned. His eyes played tricks on him; he caught a glimpse of Charlotte’s face in a trunk. He squeezed his eyes shut, clutching the cat so tightly she hissed.
“Sorry.”
She headbutted his face.
Ira’s steps slowed as he neared. Arthur had grown used to their sound in the last day and a half, the softness of his paws’ padded steps, the limp that increased if Ira had been on his feet too long. Arthur had never heard his steps so fast as they’d just been, however. When Ira drew up beside him, he was breathing hard. Calyx slithered after him, winding into a nearby tree.
“Are you all right?” Arthur asked.
“I couldn’t find you,” Ira snapped.
Arthur flinched but said, “There’s nowhere for me to go, apparently.”
He glanced at Calyx as if it might lash out at him for speaking to its lord that way. Perhaps he should have worried more about the Lord of the Wood himself. Ira’s face was white, his jaw tense. His eyes blazed.
“What were you doing back here?”
“Trying to find a way out.”
“I told you,” Ira growled, “there is no way out.”
He dragged Arthur back through the trees, the same way he’d hauled him out of the house the night they’d met. Calyx followed, slinging itself from tree to tree.
Arthur twisted. Ira’s fingers clawed into his shoulder. Freya swatted him. Ira didn’t seem to notice, but Calyx clicked at her.
“Let me go,” Arthur squeaked, but Ira didn’t. Yanking free, Arthur stumbled back. He was grateful to be clear of the twisted trees, but the Lord of the Wood’s white face and angry eyes scared him.
Ira’s gaze flickered over him. Chest heaving, he turned away, dragging a hand through his hair. Calyx crept out of the trees and wound up his body, draping over his shoulders like a cape.
After a long moment, Ira’s posture loosened. He turned back to Arthur, calmer and less pale, but Arthur stayed where he was.
“I was afraid,” Ira said evenly, “the forest had done something to you.”
Arthur hugged the cat gently. “I thought I was safe here.”
“You are. I think you are.” Ira let out a breath. “It let you into the vale. It wouldn’t have let you in if it had thought you were a threat. But...”
His eyes flickered toward the trees. Thinking of Hamish, Arthur felt sick.
“Were they...” he asked, not sure he wanted to know. “Were they people? Did it do something to them?”
“They were hunters who tried to get at me here. The forest didn’t let them.”
Arthur shivered. He was glad Ira had not been killed, but the idea of the forest doing whatever it had done to them...
“It hardly recognizes friend from foe anymore,” Ira said. “But you have the acorn. It knew that as part of itself. I thinkthat’s why it let you in. You should be safe here, but... Don’t take it off. Ever.”
Arthur repressed an urge to make sure the acorn was around his neck, though he’d worn it continuously since leaving the cottage.
He glanced at Calyx. “It hasn’t seemed to stop your companion from watching me.”
