Chapter 21
It took longer than she expected to corral the creature to the main trail, even with Thornwood dragging the whip behind them.
The horn sounded, the piercing notes resounding with less time between each blow. The tiger did not dart away at the noise.
Mouse could not shake the feeling that the sound was like a clock chiming, emphasizing each moment she lost to the Tapestry Hunt.
Finally, they reached the path. It was deserted. Thornwood shook the lash once more before he let the magic crackle and die. They waited for the tiger to leap out of the dark onto the path, but it did not. It merely watched them as the horn’s cry split through the air.
It flexed its claws.
“I do not think this will work,” Thornwood said.
“I will go further down the path,” Mouse said. “Hide. Wait for the first hunters to ride by you.”
“On your signal,” he sighed, waving her off. “Yes, yes. Go before they catch up and we must wait for another cycle to start. And, Mouse…please try to act sensibly. I do not want to have to heal you again.”
Mouse nodded before creeping down the path, her eyes never leaving the tiger. It remained in its hiding spot, facing the direction of the horn.
When she was far enough away to allow the parade of hunters ample space between her and Thornwood, she stepped slightly off the path.
She rubbed a bit of dirt and greenery over her face and yanked on her left sleeve where it had ripped during the tiger’s attack.
It came away and hung loosely to her elbow.
Before she could try any other adjustments, the golden hunters appeared.
They were as overwhelming a sight the second time as the first. Their banners trailed out behind them, waving in a nonexistent breeze. Some wore helmets that sparkled like the sun, while others had embroidered hats that flopped along the sides of their heads in elegant puddles.
The horses were glorious, too, resplendent with carved leather that highlighted their riders’ boots. Their manes were either tied in elaborate braids or left loose to flow down their backs. The Dewhurst coat of arms decorated their flanks.
When the last rider passed her, Mouse stumbled onto the path. She held one hand out to them while she clutched her waist with the other.
“Help,” she cried.
The entourage stopped and turned to her at once, as though every hunter was one living organism with dozens of limbs. All their eyes fixed to her, and Mouse realized that they were pure gold, with no pupils or irises. Their blank expressions chilled her.
“Please, there was a creature on the trail. It attacked me,” she cried. She held out her ripped sleeve. The rider in the front drifted to her, leaning down from his horse to inspect her. His movements were jerky, more automaton than man.
“Where was it?” he asked. His voice was paper-thin.
“Further up the path,” Mouse said, pointing behind her in the opposite direction from where Thornwood and the tiger hid. “I was not sure what to do, but then I saw you. Can you help me?”
The rider ignored her question, turning back to his entourage. “This way.”
The others jostled back to life, wheels on a train moving in tandem. Thornwood and the tiger were in the perfect place to attack the group from the side, but she still wanted to give them more time. Mouse rushed out in front of the first rider, her hands outstretched.
“Please,” she said before something sharp stung her cheek from her chin to her eyebrow. She gasped, putting her hand to her face. The first rider raised his horsewhip again.
“Stand aside,” he said.
She straightened. “Bloody Dewhursts,” she whispered under her breath.
With a sneer, the rider struck at her again. Mouse caught the switch in her hand, and the sting radiated through her arm. When the rider tried to pull it back, she held on, gritting her teeth against his strength.
A bellowing roar rocked the woods behind the hunters. The horses bayed, rising on their invisible hind legs before falling back down again. The men on the ground dove aside to avoid them, only to fall directly into the path of other horses.
Mouse yanked the whip from the first rider’s hands, taking advantage of his distraction.
He turned on her, but before he could lunge, Mouse brought the switch down on his horse’s rear.
It charged forward, and the rider doubled over onto his back, barely holding on to his mount.
She threw the whip aside and bolted into the trees just in time to see the tiger pounce from its hiding place next to the party.
It took down two riders at once. The creature pinned one down by the chest and took hold of his neck in its jaws.
The tiger turned on another just in time to avoid a spear.
It morphed into its wolf form, biting down on one of the hunter’s arms. The entire limb came off.
Another spear flew. This time it hit its mark, embedding itself in the wolf’s back.
A lifeless cheer went up from the hunters.
The celebration only lasted a moment before the creature shifted again.
Its bear form was even larger than it had been before.
One of the footmen scrambled back. The bear caught sight of him, reached out with its paws, and cut a gash as wide as a tree trunk along his chest. He crumbled.
The front rider flew back into the fray, his weapon held at eye level.
His war cry reverberated through the woods.
The bear rose to its hind legs with its arms outstretched.
Its gaze narrowed in on the rider. It lifted its arm as though to swing, its claws gleaming with blood.
When the rider was close enough to touch, the bear diverted course and caught the horse in the shoulder.
The horse screamed and bucked wildly. It threw the rider, and he landed with a crunch on the path.
As the rider rose to his feet, his horse dashed off the path into the woods.
The bear circled, and the rider snatched his spear from where it had landed.
Eyes locked, they charged at each other.
Mouse shut her eyes just before they met.
When she opened them, all the riders were gone.
Instead, a fine layer of golden dust coated the bark, leaves, and stone.
The creature stood in the middle of the path, flashing quickly from tiger to wolf to bear. A spear jutted out from its shoulder.
Mouse went to meet it. It cried out when it saw her, flashing through its forms even faster.
Thornwood rushed up the path. “I think that did it.”
“Help me pull this out,” Mouse said, gesturing to the spear.
He took a step back from her. “Did you see what that creature just did to those spirits?”
“Yes, of course I did. How could I miss it?”
“You are not going anywhere near it.”
“The animal has suffered long enough because of the Dewhursts. I’m not going to stand by and do nothing.”
Thornwood rolled his eyes. “You and your mortal sense of morality.”
Still, he remained at her side as she approached the creature, his lips pressed into a distrusting line.
The creature growled. Its tongue trailed along its new wound as it morphed into its different forms. Deer and boar emerged in its transformation cycle, as did the slight outline of a fox. The lines around Thornwood’s frown deepened.
Mouse crept closer. The creature eyed her warily. It shifted back to a tiger.
“Wait,” Thornwood said. He held his hand out. New shoots of grass and wildflowers emerged from between the cobbles, growing around the creature’s body. The tiger sank into the bed the plants created. “It is Nepeta cataria. Catnip.”
“You have full access to your power again?”
“It’s coming back slowly.”
Mouse kneeled next to the tiger. Taking hold of the spear shaft, she pulled. It squelched, and Mouse could feel the sickening release of pressure through the wood as it left the wound. The creature sank further into the grass.
“It is all right,” she said. “There are no more hunters.”
The animal sighed a final time. Then its stripes unspooled like thread, and it was gone.
“You are unlike any human I’ve ever met,” Thornwood said after a beat of heavy silence.
Mouse brushed her sleeve across her eyes. “You’ve just met unkind humans.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. When Mouse turned to him, there was a look in his eyes that she could not pin down. “That’s not it.”
He shook his head again. “We need to get to the guest path.”
Mouse stared up at him, uncomprehending.
“We have not returned to Thistlemarsh’s entrance hall yet. Our best chance to get out of here is where the caster and their guests would have been. As the spell unravels, that may be where an exit will open.”
“What?” Mouse’s emotions and thoughts were muted, detached, as though she was observing them through a microscope.
“We need to go!” he shouted, wrenching her up below her shoulder. At his touch, she felt a shock run through her, bringing her emotions back to the forefront.
“What was that? I felt as though I was underwater,” she asked as they ran.
“The spell is dying. It is trying to find something to fill in for the hunters and the creature latched onto you. Keep moving. It will try it again.”
Around them, the edges of the enchantment unraveled. Trees tumbled into piles of green and brown thread. Branches caught and snagged behind them, ripping and collapsing into scraps.
“No matter what happens, do not slow down,” Thornwood bellowed into her ear.
He moved faster than any human could, and his hold on her shoulder slid down to her waist. He hauled her behind him, taking large sections of the path in strides. Mouse’s feet were nearly off the ground when they tumbled onto the guest path.
Before Mouse could register what he meant to do, Thornwood lifted her into his arms. She squeaked, her arms twisting around his neck.
“I can run,” she said, hyperaware of spots where her fingers met the skin of his neck. His hair brushed against her wrists.
“You are too slow,” he said softly. “Hold on.”
The world whizzed by them, and they were at the end of the path in seconds. The branches of the tree transformed from sturdy oak to the soft canopy of a willow tree. The bark pulled apart and fell to the ground like a waterfall.
When Thornwood ducked under the cascade of thread, a small door appeared on the floor. Thornwood lifted the single circular handle after depositing Mouse next to the opening. Below, she could make out Thistlemarsh’s entry hall, but turned sideways. Thornwood groaned.
“At least it is not upside down. It will likely hurt when we go through, as we will have to slide across the floor. Brace yourself.”
The crooks in the branches dipped low enough to rest on Mouse’s shoulders. She sat on the edge of the hatch, then pushed herself through.
It felt as if she had been falling for a long time, but it could not have been more than a few seconds before she felt her stomach twist, as though she was somersaulting through the air.
Then, she hit the floor, sliding along on her back until she ground to a halt.
The skin exposed on her arm stung. A second later, Thornwood arrived the same way, crumpling in a heap next to her.
He looked as bedraggled as she felt, with his hair tangled and dirt smudged on his nose.
As soon as the first bite of pain faded, an overwhelming feeling of wrongness invaded her senses. Her stomach rolled. The air was different, and it felt like the press of poison on her tongue. She turned to ask Thornwood if he sensed it, too, but he was already moving.
He sprang to his feet, and magic swelled in his hands. The gem on his ring was shining, the crack only a thin white vein on its surface. Mouse remembered him saying he would need an excess of power to fix it himself.
Mouse wondered how she’d missed the return of his strength so completely, considering how much time they’d spent together and how limited he’d proclaimed to be when first confronted with the spell on Thistlemarsh.
His magic billowed outward like a thunderstorm growing between his palms, filling the room. And just like that, the vines of gold magic connecting the walls and the thin spiderweb lines between paintings vanished.
Thornwood turned on his heel, grinning. Pulling Mouse to her feet, he swept her into a swift dance. The hall swirled around them, and she gasped.
“The spell is gone,” he laughed.
The sound was contagious, and Mouse joined in, despite the unease growing in her gut.