Page 192 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

It’s a trap.

I stumble backward, away from the frozen animals. I pick a random direction and burst into another run.

Then, abruptly, an oak appears in my vision.

I do not know why I am here or what I am doing, but I remember one certain truth: oaks are friendly to humans.

I collapse beneath it beside a clear stream I dare not drink from.

I pant hard, pressing my palm to my heaving chest.

There are two things that can happen now. I will wander for the rest of my life in this Wood, until I am driven mad, devoured by evil forces, or caught and enslaved by a fae.OrRahk will find me and kill me.

The latter sounds far better, but I cannot give up too quickly. I have to give those people time to escape the forest.

I’ve got to give Rahk a good chase.

I remembered.

It hits me with the force of a thunderclap. Iremembered.I know why I am here. I came here. To lead Rahk away from the people I am trying to rescue.

I notice the mud next to the stream. My mind returns to the story at the beginning of my Fool’s Circle strategy book. I set to work grabbing handfuls of mud. Small grabby hands stick out of the pool, reaching for me. I move quickly to keep them from latching on. Then I smear the mud over my body and bare feet.

I get up, ready to pick a random direction and plunge deeper into the insanity.

But just then, a voice booms from behind me: “Stop where you are!”

I freeze. My hood is pulled low.Howdid he track me? Did I leave footprints behind?

Slowly, I peer over my shoulder beneath the shadow of my hood. Rahk stands a stone’s throw away, an arrow notched in the bow he holds, pulled taut and ready to pierce my heart.

“Don’t move,” Rahk orders, as he begins approaching me.

He must know it’s me. Running away after he explicitly told me to stay had to be condemning enough. So if he knows it’s me, he won’t shoot.

I burst into a sprint.

“Stop!” roars Rahk.

Absolutely not.

I slam my arm on some obstacle I didn’t see. The pressure builds, yet I keep running.

I don’t know if it is the mud, or the twining madness of the Wood, but eventually I look back. There is no sign of Rahk. I have no breath to spare for a sigh. I press my hand against a tree trunk. The second I do, I remember not to trust trees here. I yank my hand away. A piece of bark falls off.

The tree screams.

I cover my ears and burst into another run. Finally, when I am certain I am going to collapse, I find another oak tree.

Or is it the same one?

A clear pool lies just beside it with a muddy bank. There is no sign of me scraping mud away from it. I stare at the place suspiciously. Then, exhausted, I give up. I drop between the safe roots of the enormous tree.

I look down. The blood drains from my entire body.

A sharp stick has pierced straight into my left arm. At first, I think it is one of Rahk’s arrows, but when I inspect it, there is no way it was an arrow. It is rough, crooked, and it has not cut all the way through my flesh. It must have just been a sharp branch I ran into while sprinting.

Blood drips down my muddy arm.

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