Winterwood

More dirt caves in around him, and he gasps for air—he’s sunk up to his chest now. He blinks up at me one last time, like he’s still unsure of what’s happening, like he’s still a little buzzed—and he thinks maybe this isn’t real. Only a dream, an awful, awful nightmare.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t cry out, and I hold on to his arms until they are the only thing still aboveground. But then they too are swallowed up by the cruel, dark soil.

Gone.

Gone.

Gone.

I sink back onto the earth, staring at the space where Jasper had been, my own lungs heaving. What the fuck, I want to scream, but no sound comes out. Only the absence of air.

Above me, trees are burning, sparks raining down. And I scramble back, pushing myself to standing, afraid I will be next—just like Jasper. But the roots don’t come for me. Jasper was the one who started the fire. Jasper stole lost things after I told him not to—when the forest was awake. He was the only one who placed things in his pocket to take home, to keep.

The trees were never going to let him leave.

I wipe at my face, dirt and soot coming away, and brush my hands against my knees. Wanting to be rid of the dirt, any memory of what just happened. Of what I just saw. Jasper is dead. Jasper is gone.

On the ground, only a foot away, is my grandmother’s ring. My heart swings wrongly in my chest. Something isn’t right—why is the ring here, inside the woods? But I don’t bend down to touch it, I don’t lift it from the soil. I won’t take it from the Wicker Woods, not now, when the forest is awake—I won’t give it reason to hunt me.

The trees wheeze and croak, flames growing larger, and I push myself up, stagger a moment, then turn and run to the edge of the Wicker Woods.

“I—” Rhett stammers when I reach him. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t—” But I don’t let him finish. I shove my hands hard against his chest, hard enough that it knocks him back and he slams against the tree behind him. He doesn’t say anything else. His mouth flat, eyes to the ground.

I step over the threshold and out of the Wicker Woods.

The Black River churns ahead of us, water roiling beneath the layer of ice. Suzy and Lin stare at me—like they heard what happened, like they know Jasper isn’t going to appear from the trees. But then I realize they aren’t looking at me; they’re staring up at the woods, at the way we came.

I turn and see. Against the backdrop of the night sky, fiery red sparks rise in dizzying circles, flames ripping apart the forest. The Wicker Woods are burning.

We watch, mute, as the flames expand, moving toward the Black River.

It’s spreading.

It isn’t contained inside the Wicker Woods. And it’s hurtling down toward Jackjaw Lake.

“We have to go!” I say, grabbing Suzy by the arm to get her attention. “We can’t stay here.”

Suzy nods and I glance back at the woods one last time. Perhaps for the very last time.

A brick sinks into my stomach.

The place I have known my whole life—where Walker women rose up from the soil so long ago no one can remember the year—won’t survive the night. I’ve feared these woods, but under a full moon, I have felt at home inside them too.

I turn away, unable to watch it burn.

I have to find Oliver.

OLIVER

The night sky is electric.

The mountains to the north, the Wicker Woods, set alight.

I stand on the shore of the lake watching the flames raze down through the trees, a sound like thunder.

I know it’s my fault. I couldn’t face her—I left her room while she slept. I snuck out like a coward because I couldn’t tell her the truth and now I feel the dark pulling me under. The forest always there—clawing at me, bones and teeth, trying to draw me back in. She was my only remedy, and I left her alone.

She doesn’t deserve what I did. She doesn’t deserve the lies I told. But what else could I do?

Fuck.

I might be the villain. I might be all the awful things I didn’t want to be. I might have fury inside me I can’t contain. Revenge resting just behind my eyelids.

I am not who she thinks I am.

I squeeze my palms against my temples. I rake my fingers through my hair.

I left her alone. I hurt her. But not as bad as it will hurt when she learns the truth.

I thought I would leave and never see her again. But now I stand at the shore, watching the fire tear down through the snow-covered pines, and I can’t seem to make my legs move.

My heart beats only in broken measure now—hardly at all.

I have to find her.

I won’t let her die out here. Alone.

NORA

We run, cutting trails through the snow, the fire chasing us down the Black River. The fire a monster at our backs.

I don’t look behind us—I don’t need to. I can feel how close it is. I can feel the sparks burning my skin, my hair, catching on my lashes.

We reach the shore, the frozen lake already reflecting the eerie glow of the fire. The sky turned the color of blood, of smoke. Of not enough time.