Page 69 of Sequel to the Easter Bunny

Would that I could. Blowing out a misting breath, I let my eyes lose their focus. The trail in front of me is dim in this light, but when I close my eyes….

The entire forest radiates pink in a very clear direction.

I push through the undergrowth. There’s no actual path to follow, and I don’t have time to look for one that won’t scratch at my legs and bare feet, but the woods get colder the further I go.

The ground feels less solid.

There is a danger here I can’t pinpoint.

One I’m not even sure is real.

It’s like the godswood is trying to push me away… trying to punish me for not heeding the warning that raises the hair on my arms and tugs at my heart.

Go back…

The whispers on the wind aren’t real.

I ignore them.

But the underbrush only gets denser, tendrils of vines and branches heavy laden with flowers and thorns snag at my clothes, trying to slow me.

Unless there’s more of the old gods’ influence in the mortal realm now that there was—is? No. Will be—that’s just a trick of my imagination.

But maybe it’s not.

The air is thin and yet clogged with magic that tickles at my nose and lungs, more irritating than any pollen.

Through the branches above, I can see the sky brightening, despite how little light makes it to me here. My time ticks by at human speed…. But I already know I’m moving too slowly.

I can’t stop.

The whole forest seems to sigh and a moment later, the ground disappears.

Fronds and branches both scratch at my skin, and for the second time this morning, I’m falling without a hope of stopping myself.

I crash onto a path and all sense of dread leaves me.

That’s almost worse.

It’s marginally warmer here too. Not enough to keep me from shivering when I stand.

My first step stings and I suffer through two more before that dull throb reminds me: I have to stop thinking I’m the same woman I was two months ago.

I snap, knowing the gesture isn’t truly necessary, and in an instant, all my cuts are gone. The torn fabric has mended itself.

“Back to normal.”

The soft pebbles paving the way aren’t harsh on my feet and no matter which direction I turn, I don’t feel any dread.

But I know which way the nunnery should be and, hoping the path has some sort of protective spell to stop that repulsive magic, I start along it in that direction.

Now, it feels like I’m moving faster than I should be. The forest on either side blurs as I walk, smearing in my vision until I stop and it sways as though it was moving the opposite direction.

I hate this.

But just when I think I’ve made the wrong choice, and need to turn around, the grey-blue stones of a wall loom.

Some new magic tugs at me, drawing me to the nunnery instead of away from it. The air around me crowds close.

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