Page 174 of Cherish

Let Sleeping

Bears Lie

We only have to run about fifty yards through the thick jungle before we skid to a stop at the edge of a giant meadow. In the center is a massive tree, hundreds of long, thick branches stretching out from the base of a trunk wide enough to rival one in Giant City.

We’ve found it.

We’ve found the Bittersweet Tree.

“Holy shit!” Flint crows as the others come running up. “We did it. We actually found the tree!”

“Who would have thought we’d come all the way to Ecuador to find the Bittersweet Tree, and it would turn out to be a simple elm tree?” Heather says, shaking her head in wonder.

“Is that what it is?” I ask. “An elm tree?”

“I’m pretty sure,” she answers. “It’s taller than a lot of elms I’ve seen, but the shape of it is straight elm. Look at how low and wide the branches are. Not to mention the leaves are super distinctive. See how they’re shaped like a lopsided oval, with one side bigger than the other? It’s definitely an elm.”

Hudson walks up to me, sliding an arm around my waist as we take it in.

There’s a small waterfall crashing into a crystal-clear blue lake a few feet away from the tree, and several of its long branches dip and sway into the water with the breeze. Behind the tree appears to be a small, rocky cave, and to the left of that is more thick jungle. But dotting the meadow in every direction are mound after mound of earth, with the most beautiful wildflowers in every color imaginable reaching up toward whatever spot of sunlight they can find under the thick tree’s branches.

The entire spot is idyllic, and a sense of calm brushes along my skin with the gentle wind. I take a deep, centering breath as I realize everything is going to be okay. We just have to collect the—what did my grandmother call it?—Celestial Dew, or nectar from the tree…

“Do elm trees have sap?” I ask Heather.

She doesn’t answer. She’s too busy staring up at the tree. And up and up and up.

In fact, everyone seems mesmerized by the tree, their eyes wide, mouths parted in wonder. And I get it. This place is magical.

A soft smile lifts a corner of my mouth as I turn back to the tree myself, leaning against Hudson as I take in all of the long branches curving down to the meadow, weighted down by— I straighten up.

“Do all elm trees have so many honeycombs on them?” I ask, moving forward to get a better look. “There have to be hundreds of them here.”

“More like thousands,” Macy tells me.

She’s right, I realize as I walk out into the meadow. There are hundreds upon hundreds uponhundredsof honeycombs hanging from every available spot on the tree’s branches. And while the tree and its branches are absolutely huge, the honeycombs are all sizes.

Some are as tiny as a berry. Others are bigger than a beach ball, hanging off the longest, thickest branches. And every size in between.

I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.

“I hate to be the naysayer,” Jaxon drawls as he, too, stares at the huge tree. “But are we sure this is the Bittersweet Tree? Elms aren’t exactly native to this country.”

“Exactly,” Hudson tells him. “The Curator said it’s never in the same place twice—which means it’s likely not from this forest, yes?”

“And now it wants to be here,” Heather breathes. “Surrounded by wildflowers of all colors on the bank of this amazing waterfall. That’s kind of beautiful, when you think about it, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Eden answers. “But I’m thinking we need to hurry before the tree decides to relocate again.”

“Do you think the nectar we need is really honey?” Flint asks, crossing his arms across his broad chest as he takes in the sheer number of honeycombs to choose from.

“I thought it was sap,” I admit. “But I think you’re right and it’s actually honey.”

“Why did the Curator tell us that we need a vial to collect it?” Jaxon wonders. “Can’t we just break off a piece of the honeycomb?”

“Maybe it’s fragile,” Eden answers. “Besides, how much will leak out if you’re just carrying it in your pocket all the way from here back to the Shadow Realm?”

“It can’t actually be this easy, can it?” Flint asks, pointing to an especially large honeycomb hanging barely a foot off the ground. “The honeycomb is right there, waiting for anyone walking by to grab it.”

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