Chapter 30
Helena! Liz! Joni!” she cried.
She lurched on, panting, with no idea if she was moving toward the others or sinking deeper into the wilderness. Every direction looked the same. Trees crowded close, blocking out the light. The air was weighted, hard to breathe.
“Helena!” she called again.
The forest answered with its murmur of creaks and whispers.
Fear swam hot and spiked through her body. She made herself keep moving. She was coated in sweat, breathing unevenly.
Thick, gnarled roots reached from the dark earth. A bird screeched urgently. Her foot snagged against a root and suddenly she was shot forward, the weight of her pack propelling her. She felt a jolt of pain in her spine as she twisted, landing hard on her front, cheek slammed into the dirt.
She lay still, the taste of soil in her mouth. Tears were hot in her eyes. She whimpered, pinned beneath the weight of her pack.
There was no one to hear her. No one to help.
She lay in the dirt, scared, alone.
If Phoebe fell, Maggie would come to her side, tell her, “Up you get! That’s it. Dust yourself off, you brave girl.” The image of her daughter gave her a shot of strength.
Wincing at the pain in her back, she pushed herself onto her hands and knees, then staggered to her feet. Her vision swam. She took a breath, slowed her exhale.
Took another.
Think.
She stood still for a moment, listening. Just trees. Forest. Nature. She heard the rush of the river.
Then she remembered something: all rivers ran downhill. The Svelle trail led them up a mountainside, so Maggie needed to follow the river uphill, which would lead her up and out of the woods.
She pushed on, tears drying on her cheeks. A new pain had emerged in her back, a hot twist of it around her lower spine, but somehow it was better than the fear, so she leaned into it.
She kept close to the river whenever she could, calling intermittently for her friends.
The river weaved and curved in places, drawing her in strange patterns.
She began doubting herself: Did rivers always flow downhill, or were there exceptions?
What if it didn’t bring her out of the tree line but led her deeper into the wilderness?
She had to concentrate on where she placed her feet—it would be so easy to turn an ankle in high, stiff boots. Her muscles burned as she lugged herself onward, further and further through the forest, eyes wide in her search for a cairn or flash of red paint to mark the trail.
Time passed. The earth softened beneath her boots, a cushiony spring to it, layers of decaying plants making for rich soil. Orange and gray mushrooms sprung from the dank ground. Had she been here before?
Maggie could feel herself growing weary.
She stopped to drink water, emptying her bottle.
The light felt like it was at a different angle than earlier.
She’d lost her sense of how long she’d been separated from the others.
Was dusk coming? Her heart rate spiked at the thought of darkness encroaching.
She couldn’t spend the night alone in these woods.
She turned slowly on the spot, desperate to see a path. As she did so, the hairs began to prickle across the back of her neck. She had the unnerving sensation that the forest was watching her.
Goose bumps spread down the backs of her arms.
There was the slightest shift in the air.
Vilhelm’s warning crept up, dark and insidious. That feeling of unease, of not being alone, that isn’t immediately explicable.
Something moved between two trees.
She froze, her mouth dry.
Every fiber of her being tensed. She narrowed her vision, searching.
There, beside a gnarled tree trunk, a man was standing alone, watching her.