the dead trees in their creaking graveyard. If he was there, she would send Sylvie to sniff him out.
Helen walked further round the clearing, glancing into more black entrances. No one. Nothing. No one. Nothing.
She sighed. There was only one root cave left on her sunwise circle. He probably wouldn’t be there. She glanced briefly into the last hole.
James yawned at her.
He was sitting against the root wall, dim, shadowy and very far away. He had the same brown hair and freckles as the boy in the cottage, but a sleepy smile and worried eyes.
“Hello,” Helen said gently. “Are you James?”
He nodded.
“I’m Helen. I know your mum and Emma, and I know you like jam sandwiches with no butter. Would you like some?”
He nodded again.
She slipped the rucksack off one shoulder, unzipping the side pocket as it swung round. She held the bag of jam sandwiches out to him.
He didn’t move towards her, so she walked towards him. But her feet were terribly heavy and once she’d set them down, she couldn’t lift them again.
James said something she couldn’t hear.
She said to Lavender, as if the words were too big to get her mouth round, “How do I get this to him?” She felt a tickle by her ear, but she couldn’t hear anything. Not Lavender. Not the sounds of the forest. Not her own breathing.
Nor could she move her feet. Actually she could. She could move them backwards, away from the boy. She took a short step back and heard the whisper of leaves behind her. Another step backwards and she heard Lavender say, “Don’t go any nearer!”
But she had to. She had to get closer to James. Dreading the heaviness and silence, Helen went forward again, hearing Lavender’s voice fade, sliding her feet as close as she could to James before bumping up against a piece of clearing that just wouldn’t give. Was this window to the faery world see-through but unbreakable?
The boy’s mouth was still moving, but she couldn’t hear him. Was he there at all? She couldn’t reach him. How was she supposed to feed him?
She wanted to trust Lee and he had said this was a window through which she could feed James. So she lifted the packet of sandwiches through the thick air. It weighed as much as the rucksack but she threw it into the root cave.
The picnic didn’t travel in a smooth arc, but jerked through the air as if it were bumping through a series of invisible barriers before it reached James. But finally he caught it.
Then she threw the brick-heavy bottle of water. James didn’t let go of the sandwiches in time to catch it, so the water landed in the dark earth in front of him. He smiled and Helen saw his lips say “thank you.”
She croaked, “Enjoy your picnic. Don’t eat anything else until I come back tomorrow.”
She turned to leave. It should have been easier to walk in the other direction. The air wasn’t so thick. Her feet were lighter.
But walking away was made more difficult by the spears. The half circle of a dozen spear points aimed at her chest.
Noise crashed in around her. Lavender’shiccupping panic. The creaking of branches round the clearing. Her own breathing, fast and hard.
And laughter behind her. Not a child’s laughter.
Helen didn’t look round to see who was laughing; she recognised the voice that had controlled the hounds last night.
She looked at the troop of faeries behind the spearheads. Male and female, in flowing clothes like Lee’s, though not as richly decorated, with faces as hard and threatening as the spears.
Helen glanced to where Lee and Sylvie had been standing. They were gone; vanished into the safety of the trees.
She fought her own panic. Yann would never have left her. Why had she trusted these new friends? Lavender was still here, but she was the same size as the spear points. What could she do to help?
Helen whispered, “Lavender, please do that flower fairy magic the faeries are afraid of.”
“Em … I’m starting advanced magic next term. I’ve been
Helen walked further round the clearing, glancing into more black entrances. No one. Nothing. No one. Nothing.
She sighed. There was only one root cave left on her sunwise circle. He probably wouldn’t be there. She glanced briefly into the last hole.
James yawned at her.
He was sitting against the root wall, dim, shadowy and very far away. He had the same brown hair and freckles as the boy in the cottage, but a sleepy smile and worried eyes.
“Hello,” Helen said gently. “Are you James?”
He nodded.
“I’m Helen. I know your mum and Emma, and I know you like jam sandwiches with no butter. Would you like some?”
He nodded again.
She slipped the rucksack off one shoulder, unzipping the side pocket as it swung round. She held the bag of jam sandwiches out to him.
He didn’t move towards her, so she walked towards him. But her feet were terribly heavy and once she’d set them down, she couldn’t lift them again.
James said something she couldn’t hear.
She said to Lavender, as if the words were too big to get her mouth round, “How do I get this to him?” She felt a tickle by her ear, but she couldn’t hear anything. Not Lavender. Not the sounds of the forest. Not her own breathing.
Nor could she move her feet. Actually she could. She could move them backwards, away from the boy. She took a short step back and heard the whisper of leaves behind her. Another step backwards and she heard Lavender say, “Don’t go any nearer!”
But she had to. She had to get closer to James. Dreading the heaviness and silence, Helen went forward again, hearing Lavender’s voice fade, sliding her feet as close as she could to James before bumping up against a piece of clearing that just wouldn’t give. Was this window to the faery world see-through but unbreakable?
The boy’s mouth was still moving, but she couldn’t hear him. Was he there at all? She couldn’t reach him. How was she supposed to feed him?
She wanted to trust Lee and he had said this was a window through which she could feed James. So she lifted the packet of sandwiches through the thick air. It weighed as much as the rucksack but she threw it into the root cave.
The picnic didn’t travel in a smooth arc, but jerked through the air as if it were bumping through a series of invisible barriers before it reached James. But finally he caught it.
Then she threw the brick-heavy bottle of water. James didn’t let go of the sandwiches in time to catch it, so the water landed in the dark earth in front of him. He smiled and Helen saw his lips say “thank you.”
She croaked, “Enjoy your picnic. Don’t eat anything else until I come back tomorrow.”
She turned to leave. It should have been easier to walk in the other direction. The air wasn’t so thick. Her feet were lighter.
But walking away was made more difficult by the spears. The half circle of a dozen spear points aimed at her chest.
Noise crashed in around her. Lavender’shiccupping panic. The creaking of branches round the clearing. Her own breathing, fast and hard.
And laughter behind her. Not a child’s laughter.
Helen didn’t look round to see who was laughing; she recognised the voice that had controlled the hounds last night.
She looked at the troop of faeries behind the spearheads. Male and female, in flowing clothes like Lee’s, though not as richly decorated, with faces as hard and threatening as the spears.
Helen glanced to where Lee and Sylvie had been standing. They were gone; vanished into the safety of the trees.
She fought her own panic. Yann would never have left her. Why had she trusted these new friends? Lavender was still here, but she was the same size as the spear points. What could she do to help?
Helen whispered, “Lavender, please do that flower fairy magic the faeries are afraid of.”
“Em … I’m starting advanced magic next term. I’ve been
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