Chapter 26 #2
They startled and released the arrow. It flew from their bow with a twang, and if the dog had been corporeal, Aven would have shot it right between the eyes. As it was, the arrow passed through it and embedded in a tree deeper in the forest.
The dog growled, louder this time, and hunched down, coiled as if ready to attack.
Trees of the forest shook around us, bending toward us, the spindly branches reaching out as if to pull us off the path.
Vines crawled along the ground, closer to Aven’s legs.
Howling erupted in the distance. The beat of leathery wings filtered down from above.
The rolling mist gathered, muted my already-dim torchlight, and hid the path in front of us until only the barghest was visible.
“What’s happening?” Zig shrieked in the distance.
“Ellinore!” Farrah yelled.
I craned my neck, and the two torches were barely as bright as glow bugs. “Stay together! It’s okay!”
The forest was alive… literally. And Aven had been correct—we were going to be sucked into the earth, and our corpses would be eaten by trees or bats or whatever else called the woods home. Unless I did something.
Aven staggered back as roots pulled from the earth and lurched toward them.
I jumped in front of Aven, my arms outstretched, the tip of my sword pointed toward the ground. The roots recoiled but remained ready to attack.
“They didn’t mean to do it,” I said to the ghost dog. “It was a mistake. We’re very sorry. We ask for your forgiveness.”
The dog didn’t rise from its attack crouch, but it didn’t jump and rend our flesh, either. My heart thumped hard in my ears, but I had an idea. If I was wrong, it would end in my very messy death, but that might happen anyway.
I took a breath and I bowed. I’d done weirder things in my life. But if the dog was the ghostly guardian of the forest, that meant it garnered respect. It was only manners.
I kicked Aven in the shin, and they hastily followed. “I’m sorry,” they murmured. “I meant no harm. Honestly.”
After a year-long minute, the dog barked.
I straightened, and though the ghost dog was still as terrifying as before, it wagged its tail. The mist receded. The trees swayed back to their original positions. The echo of bat wings faded as they flew away.
“We would like to pass through your forest,” I said as politely as possible. “We want nothing from you or your friends. Only safe passage to the other side.”
The dog tilted its head, red eyes assessing us. It yipped in what I could only conclude was agreement.
It stepped from the path, and the forest reshaped around its paws. Trees bent and twisted, bracken parted and cleared, vines slipped away. It peered with glowing eyes over its shoulder, and the ghost dog yipped again.
“You want me to follow you?”
It moved forward, the woods parting, the route opening and widening substantially, allowing the others to join us at the front and the mounts to traverse the wood comfortably. Well, that seemed to be a good sign.
“We’re moving,” I called to the group behind us.
They maneuvered themselves and the mounts so they could walk with us. Zig was at my side instantly. “Are we following a ghost dog out of here?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Oh, thank the ancients. I think I speak for all of us when I say I would like to be out of the creepy forest now.”
The dog walked on, the forest bending to its will with every step it took. In what felt like no time at all, I spied the light of day peeking beyond the perimeter of the wood, though I imagined that had more to do with how time warped in the haunted wood, rather than how far we were from the edge.
But before we reached the exit, the dog stopped at the bottom of a tall flowering tree. It tilted its head and looked up toward the branches and whined. I stepped closer and peered upward, and spotted a large leather ball.
“You want us to get down your ball?” I asked.
The ghost dog wagged its tail.
“Why can’t you just get the tree to shake it out?”
At my question, the tree wiggled, but the ball was firmly stuck between the trunk and two thick branches.
“Okay. I guess I can—”
The dog butted its head against my leg, which nearly knocked me over, and barked. It grabbed the edge of my trousers with its teeth and pulled me away from the tree trunk.
Then it barked at Aven.
Ah. This was Aven’s penance for shooting the arrow.
“Oh,” they said. “I don’t know if I can climb a tree.”
The tree offered a low branch and Aven sighed. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” they grumbled as they hopped on the branch and grabbed another for support as the tree assisted them with climbing.
“Are we really watching your rival-slash-situationship climb a tree and retrieve a leather ball for a ghost dog in a haunted forest?” Zig asked. He rubbed his eyes. “Or am I dreaming?”
“No,” I said with a laugh. “This is happening.”
“This has been so fun,” Farrah said, clapping her hands. “In hindsight. While I was living it, it was too scary. But now? It’s great!”
Rylan scratched the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t say ‘fun,’ ” he said. “But it will be amazing for the song.”
Within a few minutes, Aven was able to wiggle the ball loose and toss it down, much to the dog’s delight. It wagged its tail and hopped after the ball, like a puppy at play. The tree assisted Aven with their descent, and once their feet hit the forest floor, they cleared their throat.
“Let’s just get out of here,” they said, tone low, sounding defeated.
It was almost sunset when the edge of the forest came into view and we could see the sky beyond the shadows.
The forest guardian paused a few feet from the demarcation, and I stood next to it as Aven and the others crossed the barrier into the light.
Farrah curtsied in her wide trousers as she passed.
Zig gave me an incredulous look, his hand tangled in Carrot’s reins. Rylan smiled widely and waved.
“Thank you again,” I said to our new friend. “I appreciate your help.”
The dog whined and leaned into my side, its head knocking against my shoulder. I laughed and scratched behind its ear, its fur surprisingly soft for a ghost. It licked my hand, then picked up its ball and bounded into the trees. Huh. Well. We’d survived the Haunted Forest.
Good job, us.