Page 80 of Kingdoms of Night

These must have just hatched.

Suppose they’ll be gone soon, too.

Still, there was a rabbit.

Yes. And if there’s one, there’s another one.

Anouk and Annette were like that at home, nearly incapable of savoring a quiet moment. Endlessly, Anouk told stories and Annette made up her own, and while Anouk would sing as she sewed, Annette would play with her dolls and prattle to herself. As much as he loved the quiet, when it was Anouk and Annette, he loved nothing more than their endless noise.

The sun slid along in the sky, turning a deeper golden yellow as the afternoon progressed. By the time they reached the forest, he dripped with sweat and gladly welcomed the shade. Idalno, despite maintaining immaculate posture, had droplets rolling down her neck and obvious streaks of sweat dampening her heavy garments. So much fabric, so many layers. Even in the harsh Guillory winters, he’d never clad himself in so much.

The air cooled as they passed into the forest of birches, elms, and oaks. Mostly birches here, their bark papery and few thick branches less than thirty feet off the ground. Sometimes they clustered so close together that it would have been impossible to pass between them. The brick road guided them through, meandering now.

Normally, he would’ve tried to cut a straight path to save time. Considering this realm was deceptive and Idalno had no fewer layers than a full bolt of fabric, however, attempting to cross through the trees seemed unideal.

The air took on a thicker quality, more dreamlike, with a floral scent he couldn’t place. Less bitter than the magic before.

The wolves panted, their mouths frothy. He remained on alert, but if they didn’t seem worried, then that was a good sign.

The wind changed. The scent changed with it, carrying the scent of fresh water. A river, most likely. He halted.

“What?” Idalno wiped her hand over her forehead, frowning.

“We need water. And rest.”

“It is getting pretty warm.” She started to remove her shawl but stopped. “Don’t suppose your wolves know where there’s a river.”

There’s one close by.Hawthorn looked about.Best be careful, though.

Always be careful, Buttercup said.Forests aren’t safe for stopping long. Not for humans, anyway. There’s a river that goes all the way through this forest.

They wouldn’t be stopping long. But if they didn’t get some water, they wouldn’t get very far.

He stilled, straining his hearing for any farther sounds. A faint burbling of water flowed, its fresh, clear scent making his dry mouth water.

“Smells like there’s one over there.” He pointed to the left, then glanced down at the wolves. “Is it safe?”

Safe as anything here.Buttercup trotted forward with Hawthorn at her side.

More dangerous not to drink, Hawthorn responded.Then we run again.

Yes! We run and run.

They couldn’t waste too much time, but going without water was bad. They’d need to figure out food later as well. It did mean they’d have to leave the path.

He took in the setting, noting the large moss-covered rock with a deep gouge in its side that resembled anM. Near it were two birches that almost formed aV. Looking through them, at the center was a large earthen mound with silver and lavender mushrooms, fallen leaves, and patchy bits of yellow-green grass.

Idalno removed her dagger and cut strips of bark from the trees.

He gave a slight nod. Smart. The inner bark of birches was edible, and it’d be useful if they couldn’t find other sources of food.

He followed the wolves, taking in every detail about the forest. More and more mushrooms grew on the fallen logs and earth mounds, most lavender, pink, or silver but a few blue. Most likely poisonous. His maman had always known which ones were safe and which ones were deadly. If Annette were here, she’d probably try to convince him they needed to collect all of them. They were in such pretty colors, after all, and mushroom soup was something they all enjoyed. Especially when the morels were in season. These didn’t smell familiar, however, lightly musty and a little sweet.

The ground grew a bit hillier as they continued, but the babbling sound and fresh scent of water intensified. Eventually the hills evened out and the river flattened into what looked to be relatively shallow waters. The trees didn’t grow nearly so close here. There was almost enough space to build a cabin and maybe grow a small garden if the pebbly soil wasn’t as poor as it looked. Even the grass didn’t grow as plentifully here.

But that didn’t matter. What did was the fresh, cold, clear water rushing over the round gray and brown stones. Large clumps of rushes and brown-topped reeds lined the river at random intervals. A turtle sunned itself on a fallen log. As soon as the wolves clambered into the water, it scooted away.

A few faint bird calls wove a song above, similar to larks and wrens. Almost like home, but not quite. Something in the notes was off. Perhaps because there were so few. Although they hadn’t seen any other people besides Puck, they hadn’t seen many animals either.

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