And the Trees Crept In(10)

When the train stopped it was dark; I couldn’t see anything, and I could feel that something was different. There were tall trees outside, black in the throes of midnight, and I felt the absence of the London smog and buildings fiercely. Then came the storm and a walk longer than I have ever done and I nearly lost my foot skin. What a joke, all that effort to end up here.

La Baume is a big, sprawling manor. I could tell that even in the dark. I felt it. A big, empty place, half falling down, and it was all for Cath. It must have been lonely all by herself in that house the color of blood. She must have been afraid to be alone.

But we’ve come to her now, to the place where there’s space and food and joy and light. The place where Mam grew up, too. Only nothing lasts forever, does it? Which is the only perfect truth.

We liked it at first, but then the thing in the woods came, the people left, and now we are alone in a ghost town.





Nori sees him first.

By the time I look up from the ashy soil, she’s almost at the boundary with Python Wood.

“NORI!”

My screams should echo across the field, but they don’t. Nothing has buoyancy anymore, not even my terror.

“Nori, stop! STOP!”

Her hand signs reach across the distance. I’m playing!

“Come back here right now!”

But she’s already turned away, skipping toward trees that loom before her like sentinels.

Nonononononono. I don’t know if Cath is right about the thing in the woods or not, but I remember her terror before she went mad, and I have felt… something about Python. And I can’t risk losing Nori, too.

“Nori, damn it, stop right now, I mean it!”

She doesn’t stop, and I run. I’m faster, but not by much, and when I reach across the distance that separates us to grab at her shoulder, her dress, her hair—anything to get her to stop—we are right at the boundary. I feel the coldness of the wood like a fridge door just opened. A breath. A puff. So eerie.

I shake her roughly, and the crooked bone of her right arm shocks me, even now. It’s so weak, thin, warped. Her mouth opens in an O that should have sound, but never has.

“You stop when I call you, do you understand me?”

She begins to cry. It occurs to me that I’m still holding her arms tightly, so I force my grip to soften, and then let go completely.

She signs: But the boy is hiding and I have to find him.

“What boy?”

He’s going to win!

I should ignore her. Take her hand and march her back inside. But something stops me. It’s always the same, so close to the wood. A feeling of being seen. Not just watched, but really looked at. I still remember, three years ago, when Cath screamed like that… her terror at the idea of Nori going into the woods. Maybe her fear is infecting me, too. Now that she’s not really here anymore.

Staring out at the ancient boughs, all of them dripping moss, I whisper, “Nori, tell me right now. What boy?” My skin is crawling.

She wears a pout, unaware that a certain sense of darkness is growing up behind her, deep within the trees. It’s as though the day is somehow later in the wood than it is out in the field. Impossible.

Look! Her hands yell. There he is! I told you!

And someone is coming. I maneuver Nori behind me and wait, muscles tense and ready to fire. What can I do? Run? With Nori? I look around for a weapon, but the only thing of use is a fallen branch, and I don’t want to touch any part of Python Wood. I’m not even sure I know why.

Don’t be like Cath, I berate myself. But I still don’t touch the branch.

The figure gets closer, and I step back, pulling Nori with me. But then I see it’s just a boy, stalking out from between the trees, hands in his pockets. Dark hair, dark eyes. Like me.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says. He crosses into the field like it’s nothing. Like he’s not the first person we’ve seen in months. “We were playing hide-and-seek. I think I was losing.” He winks at Nori, but stops smiling when he looks back at me. “Or maybe I’ve already lost.”

“Who are you?” My voice is gravel. “What kind of perv are you? Trying to get my sister to go into the woods. She’s seven!”

“That’s not… I’m—I think you have the wrong…” The boy half smiles, then thinks better of it. “My name’s Gowan. I was just… I used to live here, ages ago, when it was an orphanage? I took care of the garden.” He nods down to the house.

Some vague memory of Cath running an orphanage pricks the edges of my mind. Must have been ten years ago at least. Did she ask him to come back because of what’s been happening with the garden? Possible, but improbable. There’s no phone. The postman hasn’t been in ages. So, unless Cath left the attic at night, in secret, and crossed Python to get a letter to town, then this boy—this Gowan—is lying to me.

“Where did you come from?”

He laughs, then frowns. “I live on the other side of the woods. About three miles from town.”

“There is no town,” I say. “Not anymore.”

“How do you know?”

“I went to look… once. There’s nothing. Everything is still, empty and falling down.”

I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to think about this.