Forsaken by the one person who was supposed to love her unconditionally, Red must brave the magic and monsters of the Wylds to find her true place in the world.
*****
Plague...
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The light diminished with every step we took into the woods, swallowed slowly but surely by great swathes of webbing in the canopy. I tried not to look too closely at the furry, bulbous sacks that clung to every furrow and crevice in the tree bark, chanting to myself that it was just some kind of fungus -- certainly not multitudes of egg sacks, which in turn would host countless little eggs. What was inside those little eggs I refused to fathom, because it was just fungus, just fungus...
Something brushed against the bare skin of my ankle and I let out a little squeal. Rana whirled around, the flaps of her bathrobe billowing with the sudden motion. I suddenly wished that Gretchen had given us something a little more durable than silk to wear; where was Rana's scaly armour when we needed it?
"What is it?" she hissed, dark eyes flaring.
"Just a cobweb," I realised aloud, scowling at the wispy threads streaming off the shrub to my left.
"Goddess above, don't do that to me," she muttered, clutching at her chest. "I don't eat well enough to afford that kind of scare."
I rolled my eyes at her dramatic claim, doubting the wyvern had ever once come close to the heart attacks I'd suffered in my youth. "I think you'll manage," I said, looking over my shoulder to share a commiserating glance with the Wraith -- only to remember he wasn't there. He'd agreed to stay behind with Gretchen, to help revive Eddy.
Sebastian was convinced the tranquilliser coursing through the foal's veins was actually a weaker manifestation of Nya's Grace. He'd theorised that the lycan poacher had channeled it through their claws, which was why Eddy had collapsed after being scratched. His understanding of such things transcended my own by a long shot, and was somewhat surprising given his open distaste for the Goddess and spirituality in general. I had a feeling there was a lot more to Sebastian than the stoic rogue he portrayed himself to be; a tangled history that I was only beginning to unravel. After all, I hadn't even learned why he'd tried to assassinate Rogan yet. The act alone had won Rana's trust, but I wanted to know what desperation had driven him to steal an ashwood weapon from Gretchen's sister in the first place. He must have known his own life would be on the line.
"I'm pretty sure we left him around here somewhere," Rana said, scratching the back of her head as she peered into the canopy. She was using her dominant arm again; the scratches on her shoulder were already scabbing. I could only assume her system had burned through the last remnants of Nya's sedative.
"When you said you brought him up instead of down, I didn't realise you meant it quite so literally," I said, following her gaze.
The draping folds of spider silk reminded me eerily of the fabric pinned to the ceiling of the iron cottage. They smothered the sky and the trees, choking off the light and life of any foliage or ground-dwelling plants. There was only packed earth beneath our feet, scattered with dry twigs and the sagging grey remnants of ancient webs. I didn't particularly like how they felt between my toes; didn't particularly like walking barefoot through this place at all. I would have given anything to have my boots back, worn soles and all.
