As I bounced up and over the railing, I shot out a hand and grabbed for whatever I could. I caught one of the balusters and slid down it. My body jerked as I hit the bottom rail and held on. I hung there—partly suspended over nothing and partly over the winding staircase. I could try to climb up or try to swing myself over the stairs below and drop. I wasn’t strong enough for the former, and the latter gave me a chance of falling into the abyss.
I looked down. The stairs were so far away. I closed my eyes. “This is a dream. This isn’t real. I can fly. I can fly.” I swung my legs back and forth and opened my eyes as I flung myself at the stairs. “I can fly!”
I didn’t fly.
I didn’t fall.
I floated from my hanging spot to the stairs I’d been looking at. As I landed with a soft bump, I collapsed to my knees and shuddered. I was much closer to the bottom than I had been, but I needed to collect myself. I covered my face, shaking, and forced slow, calming breaths.
There was no time for that.
As Josephine’s shouts entered the fray from below, I remembered why I was here: I needed to be by my patient’s side. Josephine would not be another Malachi. She would not die under mysterious circumstances. With a speed and agility borne by my sense of duty, I was up and sprinting down the last of the stairs once more. This time, there was no hesitation, no fear. My patient needed me. I would be there for her.
The bottom of the stairs disappeared into the deep, green foliage of oak leaves and trees. I didn’t pause. I plunged into, then through, the branches that wound themselves around the stairs. I met the ground with enough give that I was forced to stop and get my bearings. It was the loamy soil of a deep forest, covered in years of fallen leaves that hid gnarled roots and ankle-breaking holes.
I pushed myself to my knees. All around me, glowing fungi dotted the forest floor. This must be the Enchanted Wood. Things rustled in the underbrush as I looked for Josephine—things I didn’t want to see. Some of the oak trees appeared to be fighting vines that threatened to strangle them. As I watched, a vine shifted and slithered around a thick branch as if it was alive, sentient. Shouts broke through my horrified fascination.
Two voices rose above the squeaks and chatter of animals. Josephine shouted, “Get away! Get away from him!” The other voice, higher pitched like a child’s, encouraged her. “Get ’em, Josephine! Get ’em!”
I surged to my feet and ran in the direction of the melee. I hurried as fast as I could through the unfamiliar forest. I dodged around oak trees with branches that had exploded out from their trunks like frozen fireworks in wood. I rounded a large tree and stumbled into a glade. In the middle was the largest oak tree I’d even seen. Josephine, standing on its jutting roots, was dwarfed by the size of them. Above her was an orange cat. Below her was a swarm of creatures I’d never seen before. They looked like a cross between a rat and a weasel, with large, tattered ears, bulbous, goat-like eyes, and a writhing mass of tentacles where their mouths should be.
As they leapt for Josephine with sharp claws and grasping tentacles, they chattered and squeaked to each other. As one, they would leap upon the oaken roots to dart at Josephine’s feet. She swung her makeshift weapon, a fallen branch, forcing them back again.
I saw a small contingent of the creatures move with silent steps around the huge tree to the back. They climbed with slow, sinuous motions, flat against the bark. Their target was the orange cat.
I needed a weapon. A good one. One I was familiar with. I saw it in my mind’s eye. My father’s 1911 Colt .45. Not a decade before, he’d carried it in the Great War. When I started at Providence, he forced me to learn to shoot, and learn I did. I was very good. The pistol now resided in my office desk in the back of one of the drawers. I’d never used it on the job, but I still kept in practice.
Even as I thought about the pistol, I felt its weight in my hand. It was a comfort. I didn’t need to look down to know it was there. I braced my arm against a branch and aimed. The shot went wide of the tree. I instinctually knew I shouldn’t hurt the creature I’d aimed at. The shot was deafening in the forest and every single creature froze at its sound.
Coming out from behind the tree, I called in a loud, strong voice. “I am very good with this pistol. I didn’t hit any of you on purpose. It’s time for you to go. Now.” I don’t know why I spoke to those creatures as I did, but they’d displayed intelligence. I assumed they’d understand me.
They did.
As one, they swarmed toward me—not in malice, but curiosity. A tumble of voices cascaded around me. “Who is she?” “She’s new.” “She has a weapon. A strong weapon.” “A good ally.”
I stood my ground. They stopped about ten feet from me in a clump. One of them came forward and peered with those disconcerting, goat-like eyes. “You didn’t hurt us. Why?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t have to.” This close up I could see their tentacles had suckers on them and wondered how they could eat, and what. I refused to think about what they would’ve done to the cat.
“You are good and strong. Come. Come with the zoog. We’re good allies. Come now. The Enchanted Wood is dangerous. We’ll protect you.”
Again, I shook my head and sheathed the pistol in the thigh holster I knew was there. “No. I have other duties. Thank you.” I glanced up at Josephine. At this point, she was on the ground next to the oak tree with the orange cat wrapped about her shoulders.
The zoog began muttering and chittering among themselves. “As you will. The cats of Ulthar are dangerous. When they betray you, come back here. Come to us. We’ll protect you.”
I inclined my head once—an acknowledgment, but not an agreement—and said nothing. They looked between us a last time, then scampered off as one into the forest like a moving carpet of fur, tentacles, and claws. As they went, I hurried to Josephine.
“That was brilliant.” The words came from the orange cat wrapped about Josephine’s shoulders.
“A talking cat. Can this get any weirder?” I shook my head. “Are you all right?”
Josephine smiled at me as she nodded. “Absolutely. It will get much weirder. It is the Dreamlands after all. Also, yes, I am well.” She pet the cat that snuggled to her. “This is Foolishness, a friend of mine.”
“Foolishness. A pleasure.” I started to offer a hand, but I didn’t know what the etiquette of meeting a talking cat was. I settled for crossing my arms. “What are you doing out here?”
The cat yawned. “I do what I’m supposed to do. I’m foolish. I walk in the Enchanted Wood alone. I get harried by the zoog. You, or someone like you, rescues me. We all have our parts to play in keeping the Dreamlands as stable as it can be.”
I looked around the glade and at the huge oak tree in front of us. The world looked stable enough. Grass peeked up through the fallen leaves. Tiny flowers made of colored paper adorned the winding tree roots that edged the glade. The sun shone overhead. It even looked as if some of the trees were smiling.
Foolishness stood on Josephine’s shoulders, stretched, then jumped down. “Come along. I’m sure you wish to speak to Insightful. She’ll know what you’re doing here.” With that he strode off toward a path through the forest I hadn’t noticed before.
Josephine linked an arm through mine and led me down the open road. Flowers appeared at our sides as we passed by. “I love that kitty. He is his namesake, but he is an ally.”
“You know him?” The trees above us made a natural tunnel of green and gold at the top that morphed into a darkness filled with fungi and scuttling creatures at the bottom. I kept my eyes and attention on the orange cat strutting in front of us with his tail held high.