Into the Twilit Gloom (2022)

4. Delving Into The Shadows

A gaping silence settled over the two of them as they scrambled up the path. The sweet scents of flowers still wafted over them with every step, new blooms sprouting a rainbow around them. Some of them Frankie recognised from Professor Alnwick's bizarre Potions and Botany lectures, like the white trumpets of bindweed twisting above them, and the drops of lavender petals snaring at her feet that must be ground-ivy. Somewhere, beyond the sheets of leaves, there was a delicate tinkling sound, not unlike a tittering bell, but Frankie ignored its call, focusing on the trail. The moss was draped over steps of stone, forming a cushioning layer that would turn slick with a few drops of rain. She could feel Meg a few paces behind her, unspeaking as her boots sunk into the blanket of moss. Maybe it was best to leave her to her own thoughts for a while, before she decided to turn around and make her way back to the thicket, taking the map with her. Frankie knew her words hadn't always helped in the past.

The path rounded a towering, shadowy hedgerow edged with sprouts of tiny white bells, and then it wound into a clearing. Grass sprung under their feet, stretching upwards to where moonlight filtered through the canopy above. Frankie glanced up – huge boughs cast them into shadow, twisting back towards a massive trunk that drilled into the earth. The roots spread everywhere, inching out to the border of brightly coloured bushes. Up in the swishing leaves, if she squinted, she was sure she could see tiny figures jumping between the twigs.

"Guess that's the oak," came Meg's dour voice from behind her.

Frankie glanced back at her. Her friend's mouth was pulled into a hard line in the dappled moonlight as she unfolded the map. "I mean, yeah, it's pretty sizeable, huh." She halted. More exquisite trills echoed from above, the jangle of a soft bell accompanied by a flurry of rustling. A quick peek showed the figures dancing about amongst the leaves above their heads. Were they more of the puppet-like faeries? She took a deep breath. "So – uh – which way was it, you said?"

Her friend was still bent over the page. "Left." A short silence. "Well, it's less an accurate representation and more of an artist's impression, but the path bends left." Her tone was still sullen, but at least she was talking.

"Well, okay. Left it is." The sooner they weren't stood under that disconcerting rustling, the better. One more divebombing faerie might be the end of it. Frankie set off, leading the way across the clearing, sinking into the mixture of grass and spongy soil. There was a break in the border of bushes, bending away into the darkness. Her hand reached for her belt, for where her Dark-Sight Specs were wrapped up tightly in a pouch.

Something drifted down from above, brushing against her cheek. Frankie glanced up. A glittery substance danced on the breeze, glinting silver in a band of moonlight, spiralling into her face.

It itched. The powder tickled at her cheeks, prickled in her nostrils, stung in her throat. She was suddenly overcome by the overwhelming need to sneeze, to blink, to shed the strange powder, and tried to do all those things at once.

"Uh, bless you?" came Meg's unsure voice from behind her.

Frankie rubbed the back of her hand against her nose. "Some sort of dust – pollen, maybe? I just walked into it."

"Dust?" Meg was picking at something in her dark hair. Her fingers came away smeared in a silvery substance, almost like a child playing about in their mother's eyeshadow palette. "Uh – you're covered. Not gonna lie, you look like you've gone a bit grey."

Oh. Frankie shook her hair out, shedding more of the powder and puffing clouds of it back into the air – she caught Meg stepping back smartly. "Huh. Well, this is Faerieland, and they do have some whacky plants here."

A shadow crossed Meg's face as she glanced upwards. Something carried downwards on the breeze, a tiny tinkling that almost sounded like a giggle. "Let's get moving before we run into any more," she said darkly. "And I'm going first. I don't need my common sense sigil to tell me that." And with that, she marched onwards, already pulling her own spectacles free.