Hushwood

iii. ill omens

Arienne could tell that dawn had come, but the forest remained shrouded in a pale, cold gloom. She took a deep breath of the scented air. I survived the night, she thought, relieved.

Where was Bindi? At the heart of the Hushwood? Or had the forest taken her only to its brink before marking her wrist and leaving her to fend for herself?

Bindi. She'd be terrified. The reflections alone were bad enough, but what of the monsters?

Ari kept walking, and was glad not to chance upon any more mirrors. Her feet dragged with exhaustion; she longed to stop and lie down, but she didn't let herself. Surely she could make it until nightfall. I've got to, she told herself. Every moment wasted is a risk. Bindi's worth losing sleep over.

She wasn't sure which direction she was going—just forward. There were no landmarks, and that worried her, but she soon found a sharp stone with which she occasionally carved her initials into trees that she passed. The trees' smooth, ashen bark shone gold where she scarred it, and its touch almost felt angry. She didn't linger.

The day was wearing on when Ari heard a soft sound, not quite a whisper, more like a hiss.

She froze.

Nothing. Was it her imagination?

She started to move again. There it was—a terrible, wordless voice, seeping towards her from the trees. It seemed to come from all around her, like a gust of cold wind, or a creature breathing. She halted, and this time the voice did not go silent.

Arienne counted thrice to seven.

"Aaaarriiiiieeeeeeenne," whispered the voice. Ari's blood turned to ice. "Aaaaarrriiiiieeenne."

She whirled around, but there was nothing there.

"Sh-show yourself!" she stammered.

There was no reply, only a dark trembling that reminded her of laughter.

"I'm not afraid of you. The forest welcomed me."

Three forms appeared like ghosts from the mist, their fangs bared in malicious smiles. Their black eyes stared at her, through her, and Arienne took a deep back, counting frantically to seven. No. That shan't save me now.

"I am the forest," rasped the three reflections in unison.

Arienne's voice shook. "You're not real."

"Come now, Arienne, what makes you so sure that you are?"

Snarling, the creatures raised their clawed hands and lunged.

Arienne screamed, dropping to the ground. The reflections flew through the air where she'd stood, hissing and dissolving into dark spasms of mist. She slowly got to her feet, turning around—and staggered back when she saw the three standing next to her, their faces contorted with rage and malevolence.

"Hännah's lark," she gasped, her eyes rimmed with white. She whirled around and fled, dodging the spindly trees. Fear swarmed in clouds of red at the corners of her vision; she felt as if she were running blind.

"Aaaarriiieeeeeeeeeenne."

She could feel their bitter breath on the back of her neck. Their voices were like red-hot chains, binding her tightly and striving to hold her back, but she fought past them and didn't look back.

"You cannot run from me, child." The three materialized before her, and the air around them shimmered. Arienne smelled sulfur. "Come to me...join us..."