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Authors: Christina Henry
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herself to stop being foolish. Sheâd faced and defeated the Jabberwockyâ
(Alice)
âand surely this hob would be nothing compared to that.
(Iâm still here, Alice.)
There might have been a dark laugh emerging from the roll of dirty clothing at the very bottom of her pack, but Alice refused to hear it.
Hatcher crouched to the ground, inspecting the place where the creature had stood. Alice saw no obvious sign of its presence, nor of the way it had retreated. She remembered her brief glimpse of its long, oversized feet and the protruding blackened toenails. There ought to be footprints or some other kind of mark in the ground from those appendages. But there was nothing. Alice saw Hatcher glance around, then stand and scrub his face in frustration.
âI donât know what a goblin is, but it sure disappeared bloody quick,â Hatcher said. âIf both of us hadnât seen it I would say we hadnât seen it.â
He slapped the blunt end of his axe in the palm of his left hand, his eyes searching around the forest. Alice could see the longing in his eyes, the desire to hunt the thing that had slipped away from his blade.
âCome on, Hatch,â she said, with a certainty she did not feel. âIf it appears again you can have another go.â
She knew he wouldnât move unless she did, because hewouldnât let her walk through the woods unprotected. So she did the thing she did not want to do. She held her chin high and pretended she didnât feel like a scurrying mouse, like she didnât want to find the nearest hole and dive into it. She pretended that her heart wasnât a faint little flutter in her chest, trying to make itself small and unnoticeable. She pretended she wasnât terrified to look back over her shoulder and see not the carved bones of Hatcherâs face but the distorted ones of the goblin. She pretended, and she led the way.
A moment later Hatcher fell in step beside her and patted her shoulder. âIâll get it next time. You donât have to worry.â
âIâm not worried,â Alice said. But she was. Because Hatcher never missed, and this time he had.
They trudged along, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Alice noted the return of birds and chipmunks and little noises from the brush. She even saw a flash of antlers through the trees. Another time she might have pointed in amazement at the sight of a wild deer, but not now.
The fear had suffused her, like a poison that spread from the place where the goblin had almost touched. She felt cold all over, cold in her bones, and her hands shook so hard she closed them in fists in her pockets so that Hatcher would not see.
Alice could not have explained why the goblin scared her so, scared her more than anything else she had seenâmore than Cheshire, more than the Walrus, more than even the thing that she was not supposed to think about because she was going toforget it. All she knew was that as the shadows lengthened and the faint sunlight disappeared, she wanted to hide under her cloak until the sun rose again.
Hatcher, however, had a different idea. The darkness drew out the predator in him, and as the creatures of the forest settled into their nests and burrows, his teeth gleamed like a wolfâs.
Alice heard Lieslâs voice in her head, that nurserymaid from long ago who came from the high forests.
Grandmother, what big teeth you have.
Hatcher was no wolf in an innocentâs clothing. He was a wolf in a manâs form, a killer forced to pretend that he was civilized. And now, in this raw and uncivilized place, his nature could finally find its full bloom.
She sensed the shift, felt the expectation that built in him. And then she saw the goblin, and felt her heart stutter and her blood halt.
It was just ahead of them, on the path, a silhouette that did not quite fit into the shape of the trees. Alice was faintly surprised she could recognize anything
(Alice)
âand surely this hob would be nothing compared to that.
(Iâm still here, Alice.)
There might have been a dark laugh emerging from the roll of dirty clothing at the very bottom of her pack, but Alice refused to hear it.
Hatcher crouched to the ground, inspecting the place where the creature had stood. Alice saw no obvious sign of its presence, nor of the way it had retreated. She remembered her brief glimpse of its long, oversized feet and the protruding blackened toenails. There ought to be footprints or some other kind of mark in the ground from those appendages. But there was nothing. Alice saw Hatcher glance around, then stand and scrub his face in frustration.
âI donât know what a goblin is, but it sure disappeared bloody quick,â Hatcher said. âIf both of us hadnât seen it I would say we hadnât seen it.â
He slapped the blunt end of his axe in the palm of his left hand, his eyes searching around the forest. Alice could see the longing in his eyes, the desire to hunt the thing that had slipped away from his blade.
âCome on, Hatch,â she said, with a certainty she did not feel. âIf it appears again you can have another go.â
She knew he wouldnât move unless she did, because hewouldnât let her walk through the woods unprotected. So she did the thing she did not want to do. She held her chin high and pretended she didnât feel like a scurrying mouse, like she didnât want to find the nearest hole and dive into it. She pretended that her heart wasnât a faint little flutter in her chest, trying to make itself small and unnoticeable. She pretended she wasnât terrified to look back over her shoulder and see not the carved bones of Hatcherâs face but the distorted ones of the goblin. She pretended, and she led the way.
A moment later Hatcher fell in step beside her and patted her shoulder. âIâll get it next time. You donât have to worry.â
âIâm not worried,â Alice said. But she was. Because Hatcher never missed, and this time he had.
They trudged along, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Alice noted the return of birds and chipmunks and little noises from the brush. She even saw a flash of antlers through the trees. Another time she might have pointed in amazement at the sight of a wild deer, but not now.
The fear had suffused her, like a poison that spread from the place where the goblin had almost touched. She felt cold all over, cold in her bones, and her hands shook so hard she closed them in fists in her pockets so that Hatcher would not see.
Alice could not have explained why the goblin scared her so, scared her more than anything else she had seenâmore than Cheshire, more than the Walrus, more than even the thing that she was not supposed to think about because she was going toforget it. All she knew was that as the shadows lengthened and the faint sunlight disappeared, she wanted to hide under her cloak until the sun rose again.
Hatcher, however, had a different idea. The darkness drew out the predator in him, and as the creatures of the forest settled into their nests and burrows, his teeth gleamed like a wolfâs.
Alice heard Lieslâs voice in her head, that nurserymaid from long ago who came from the high forests.
Grandmother, what big teeth you have.
Hatcher was no wolf in an innocentâs clothing. He was a wolf in a manâs form, a killer forced to pretend that he was civilized. And now, in this raw and uncivilized place, his nature could finally find its full bloom.
She sensed the shift, felt the expectation that built in him. And then she saw the goblin, and felt her heart stutter and her blood halt.
It was just ahead of them, on the path, a silhouette that did not quite fit into the shape of the trees. Alice was faintly surprised she could recognize anything
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