“We’ll rest here,” the woodcutter said when they reached a small clearing surrounded by hunched black evergreens. “Gather some kindling, and we’ll build a fire.”
Midday had shifted to afternoon, and Hayden had no idea where they were in the vastness of the forest. He only had one stone left in his pocket. If their father led them any deeper into the woods, they’d be hopelessly lost.
“Well?” The woodcutter gestured sharply. “There’s plenty of sticks at hand. Go fetch them. I’ll make a fire ring.”
Exchanging a look, Gracie and Hayden began to scavenge for small branches. He kept an eye on his father, who’d unearthed a few rocks and was arranging them in a circle. Maybe the woodcutter had changed his mind, and wouldn’t be leaving them, after all?
A few moments later, Hayden turned with his arms full of kindling, and his heart sank.
The clearing was empty, the fire ring abandoned. While their backs had been turned, Bergen had soundlessly disappeared into the shadowed depths of the forest. His woodcraft skills were unsurpassed, despite the years that had turned his once-black hair to gray.
“Father?” Gracie whispered, though her voice held an undertone of hopelessness.
Hayden dropped his wood to reach over and take her mittened hand. “He's gone.”
She let out a muffled sob, and he pulled her into a hug, trying to give them both comfort.
“Don't worry,” he said softly. “I have a plan.”
Sniffling, his sister listened, and when he finished telling her what they were to do next, she pulled in a ragged breath.
“Back to the cottage? Do you really think our stepmother will simply let us gather our belongings and go?”
“She wishes to be rid of us. And Father won't stop us leaving.”
Still holding Gracie’s hand, Hayden turned and scanned the forest floor. A telltale gleam of white marked the ground beneath the trees and he went toward it. The first stone. He bent and pocketed it, then kept going, scanning the shadows for the waystones he’d left behind.
In this manner, they picked their way back through the somber trees. Sometimes it took both of them casting about for several minutes to find the next stone. Night had fallen, black and frigid, by the time they returned to more familiar trails.
“We’ll be there soon,” Hayden said, noting how Gracie shivered with cold.
Sometime later, he glimpsed the warm glow shining from the cottage windows. Slowly, he and Gracie approached.
“Wait,” he said quietly when she headed for the door.
Instead, he led them around to the side window. He boosted Gracie up, and they peered in through the glass. She sucked in a sharp breath, and Hayden narrowed his eyes at the sight within.
Their father and stepmother were seated at the small table, a feast spread out before them. Roast turkey, buttered potatoes, and a dish of orange carrots filled the table. Hayden’s mouth watered at the sight.
“She killed Tom,” Gracie whispered.
He nodded. That plump fowl upon the table could only be the pet their stepmother had cosseted for so many years. He wondered if it had shrieked when she’d butchered it. But where had the rest of the bounty come from?
Two creamy new candles shed warm light over the scene. Hayden’s heart turned to ice as he watched his father guzzle his tankard of ale, then smile over at his wicked wife.
Gracie was the first to understand what had happened.
“Mama’s platter is gone. And the box with the necklace.” She looked at Hayden, her eyes wide in her thin face. “Even our clothes chests. Did she sell everything that belonged to us?”
He scanned the room, realizing his sister was right. Their mother’s legacy was gone, along with anything that could not be used by his father and stepmother. Even the little collection of carved animals he'd made for Gracie over the years had disappeared. It was as if he and his sister’s presence had been completely erased.
There was no point in going inside. There was nothing left in the cottage for them to claim. Hayden was grateful for the foresight that had prompted him to bring along his weapons and throw on his extra cloak.
Shoulders slumped, Gracie dropped down from the window.
“Do we make for the road now?” she asked.
Hayden shook his head. “We'll rest in the woodshed a few hours, then leave before dawn.”
It wasn't much shelter, being open along the front, but it blocked the frigid wind, and huddling in the shed was better than braving the freezing road in the darkness. Besides, he’d noted that the wood box inside the cottage was piled high. Neither his father nor stepmother would venture out to gather more wood for the fire until morning.
By then, he and Gracie would be on the road to the city. A hard journey, to be sure, but they had no other choice.
They made a rough nest beside the split logs, and Hayden spread his extra cloak over them. The stars shone down, merciless and uncaring, but beautiful in their silver light. He traced the constellations and watched the small curve of the moon rise, until his eyes were heavy enough to close.
When the barest hint of pewter shone in the east, Hayden woke his sister. Silently, they stepped out of the shed and passed the dark cottage. No light shone from the windows, and only a thin trail of smoke emerged from the chimney. He left it behind without a backward glance.
Their boots crunched over the rime of ice on the road as they went through the sleeping village, barely illuminated by the lowering moon. A dog barked at them from inside a stable, and here and there they heard the muffled sounds of households awakening. Then they were past, and gradually the world around them grew more visible as night retreated.
The bare, white fields outside the village were replaced by dark evergreens encroaching upon the road. Gracie shivered, shooting a wary look at the trees looming on either side.
“Something’s watching us,” she whispered, her voice edged with fear.
He set his hand to his dagger and scanned the forest. Gracie had shown a growing woodsense over the past few years, and he’d learned to listen to her. From the corner of his eye, he caught a gray shadow ghosting through the underbrush. Eyes glinted from the shadows.
“Wolves.” Gracie caught his elbow.
“Keep walking. Slowly.” He pulled his bow from his shoulder and nocked an arrow to the string, his nerves taut.
Then, out of the underbrush, a snarling figure lunged, fangs and fur and yellow eyes that promised doom.
“Run!” Hayden cried, even as he loosed his arrow.
The point lodged in the wolf's flank, and the creature yelped and sheared away. Heart pounding, he grabbed another arrow and set it to his bow. The wolf was gone, but a moment later a series of long, wavering cries filled the air.
“This way.” Gracie grabbed his arm and tugged him into the trees on the other side of the road.
“Are you sure we should go into the woods?” He didn’t release his hold on the arrow.
“They’re on the road,” she said. “Look.”
In the graying light between the trees, Hayden saw a half-dozen wolves slip onto the packed snow, a ragged semicircle cutting off their retreat.
They’d no choice but to take to the forest. Blowing out a breath, he eased his grip on his bow, keeping it at the ready. Quickly but carefully, he and Gracie hurried through the underbrush. The back of his neck prickled, and he expected a leaping attack at any moment.
But though he caught glimpses of the wolves skulking behind them, they seem content to simply trail their prey. For the moment.
“We'll circle around,” he said softly. “Get back to the road.”
She nodded once, shivering.
But every time they turned in that direction, the wolves were there first, skulking between them and their chosen way. When their steps slowed, the beasts howled behind them, near enough to make his blood race. It felt as though he and Gracie were being herded deep into the forest.
They were both staggering with weariness and hunger when at last the sun began to warm the woods. The sounds of pursuit behind them dwindled, and then were gone. He turned, but the wolves at their heels had evaporated like mist. Gracie looked at him, dark smudges of weariness beneath her eyes.
“Now what?” she asked.
“We find water, and then we rest.”
The hunger cramping his belly was a familiar companion, but the thirst burning through him was new. There were no snowdrifts nearby, but he spotted a thin game trail off to their left. It should eventually arrive at one of the many streams threading through the forest.
“This way,” he said, leading his sister to the narrow opening in the underbrush. He kept his tone light, setting his teeth against the knowledge that they were hopelessly lost.
Their father hadn’t managed to abandon them in the forest, but now they were equally lost, with no stones to guide them out. At least the bitter chill of night had faded.
He wasn’t sure if it was weariness, or his imagination, but between one step and the next, Hayden’s skin prickled. An emerald glow seemed to fill the air for a heartbeat, then was gone. He shot Gracie a quick look.
“Did you feel that?”
She nodded somberly. “There's magic here. Look.” She reached up and gently grasped a thin alder branch. “Buds.”
“It’s not spring yet.” He peered at the branch, seeing the first swellings of green. “Are we in any danger from it?”
She cocked her head, as if listening intently. “I don’t think so. Not now, at any rate. And I don’t sense the wolves at all.”
Trading a mysterious enchantment for the creatures that had been hunting them seemed, at first glance, a good thing. But the deepest part of the forest held strangeness. When they were young, their father had told them stories of impossible creatures half-glimpsed through the underbrush, and the villagers whispered tales of a witch that lived deep in the forest and ate any ill-behaved children who crossed her path.
“Do you think we'll see her?” his sister asked as they continued along the game trail. “The Witch of the Woods?”
“That’s just a story to frighten children into obedience. Even if there was once a witch dwelling in the forest, she’s long gone by now.”
Gracie made a doubtful sound; but encountering some mythical witch was the least of their worries.
Every step took them deeper into spring. Now the trees sported yellow-green leaves, the evergreens tipped with new growth. The underbrush thickened, a few pink flowers shining through the green.
The babble of running water pulled them on, and soon they reached a stream surrounded by brushy willows. Watercress carpeted the bank, and the water ran clear and lucent over brown stones. He and Gracie went to their knees and stripped off their mittens, hastily scooping the water into their cupped palms and drinking deeply.
Once his thirst was slaked, Hayden sat back on his heels and surveyed the forest. Gracie offered him a handful of cress and he chewed it slowly, savoring the peppery taste.
They needed food and shelter—something to protect them when night fell.
At least the harsh edge of winter was no longer biting at their heels. Though it was unsettling, perhaps stumbling into enchantment wasn’t all bad.