Then something happens.
I see Jasper trip. He staggers a moment—as if struggling against something—then falls forward, landing hard on his side, a stunned gasp escaping his lips.
I move away from the edge of the trees—unsure what’s just happened—but then I see, he didn’t trip. He was pulled down.
Something has woven its way around his foot—the ground moving beneath him.
“What the fuck?” Rhett asks, now standing beside me. But Jasper is strangely silent, his hands clawing at the charred soil—in shock.
A root is wrapped around his ankle, and it’s drawing him back into the woods.
I hesitate, the boundary of the forest so close—only a foot away. I know I shouldn’t care, I should just flee with the others and leave Jasper behind. But I can’t. I can’t see the terror in his eyes and walk away.
I can’t let Jasper die in here, like this.
I scramble forward and drop to my knees, grabbing Jasper’s arms. The tree root has spiraled tightly around his left ankle and is tugging him back, retreating into the soil. His hands grasp at the forest floor, at twigs and moss, nothing that will help him. His eyes wide.
“Rhett!” I call behind me. “Come help me!”
But Rhett doesn’t move. He’s standing at the edge of the forest, his expression slack.
“I can’t pull him up by myself.” Still, Rhett refuses to react.
I dig my feet into the ground, bracing myself, and pull back on Jasper’s arms. But the roots are too strong, his legs sinking into the soft, ashy ground. “Shit,” he starts saying, over and over in disbelief.
Even for everything he’s done, I don’t want to see him die out here. Not like this.
“You have to help me!” I shout back to Rhett, but it’s useless, whether out of fear or stupidity, he won’t move from his place beside the boundary trees, so close to freedom. He watches as his friend is being pulled under.
“You have to empty your pockets!” I yell to Jasper. “Whatever you took from the forest, you have to give it back.”
His eyes stall on mine, then he releases one hand from my grip, reaching around to his coat pocket. Clumsily, he pulls out whatever is inside, scattering the items across the forest floor. Silver buttons, a hair barrette that looks like it’s made of white pearl, the belt buckle tarnished and covered in dirt.
And then I see it.
A single thing among the others.
Metal glinting up at me. A gold band, a stone at the center.
It can’t be.
I want to reach out for it, but I can’t release my hold on Jasper. I squint, bending forward, and then I know for sure: The moonstone glimmers a pale milky white, even in the darkness.
My grandmother’s ring.
The one that fell into the lake when I broke through the ice. An offering to the forest, just like Mr. Perkins had said.
Jasper found it on the forest floor, among the dirt and rot and patches of snow, inside the Wicker Woods. Returned.
Lost things found.
My head throbs and I look away from it, back to Jasper.
But it’s already too late—he’s up to his waist, twisting, thrashing. The nose on his stupid reindeer sweater is already beneath the soil, patches of snow filling in around him. The forest is swallowing him up.
I’m not strong enough, and I meet his eyes, blinking wide—panic in them. The forest doesn’t want us to leave.
More dirt caves in around him, and he gasps for air—he’s sunk up to his chest now. He blinks up at me one last time, like he’s still unsure of what’s happening, like he’s still a little buzzed—and he thinks maybe this isn’t real. Only a dream, an awful, awful nightmare.
He doesn’t speak, doesn’t cry out, and I hold on to his arms until they are the only thing still aboveground. But then they too are swallowed up by the cruel, dark soil.
Gone.
Gone.
Gone.
I sink back onto the earth, staring at the space where Jasper had been, my own lungs heaving. What the fuck, I want to scream, but no sound comes out. Only the absence of air.
Above me, trees are burning, sparks raining down. And I scramble back, pushing myself to standing, afraid I will be next—just like Jasper. But the roots don’t come for me. Jasper was the one who started the fire. Jasper stole lost things after I told him not to—when the forest was awake. He was the only one who placed things in his pocket to take home, to keep.
The trees were never going to let him leave.
I wipe at my face, dirt and soot coming away, and brush my hands against my knees. Wanting to be rid of the dirt, any memory of what just happened. Of what I just saw. Jasper is dead. Jasper is gone.
On the ground, only a foot away, is my grandmother’s ring. My heart swings wrongly in my chest. Something isn’t right—why is the ring here, inside the woods? But I don’t bend down to touch it, I don’t lift it from the soil. I won’t take it from the Wicker Woods, not now, when the forest is awake—I won’t give it reason to hunt me.
The trees wheeze and croak, flames growing larger, and I push myself up, stagger a moment, then turn and run to the edge of the Wicker Woods.
“I—” Rhett stammers when I reach him. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t—” But I don’t let him finish. I shove my hands hard against his chest, hard enough that it knocks him back and he slams against the tree behind him. He doesn’t say anything else. His mouth flat, eyes to the ground.
I step over the threshold and out of the Wicker Woods.
The Black River churns ahead of us, water roiling beneath the layer of ice. Suzy and Lin stare at me—like they heard what happened, like they know Jasper isn’t going to appear from the trees. But then I realize they aren’t looking at me; they’re staring up at the woods, at the way we came.
I turn and see. Against the backdrop of the night sky, fiery red sparks rise in dizzying circles, flames ripping apart the forest. The Wicker Woods are burning.
We watch, mute, as the flames expand, moving toward the Black River.
It’s spreading.
It isn’t contained inside the Wicker Woods. And it’s hurtling down toward Jackjaw Lake.
“We have to go!” I say, grabbing Suzy by the arm to get her attention. “We can’t stay here.”
Suzy nods and I glance back at the woods one last time. Perhaps for the very last time.
A brick sinks into my stomach.
The place I have known my whole life—where Walker women rose up from the soil so long ago no one can remember the year—won’t survive the night. I’ve feared these woods, but under a full moon, I have felt at home inside them too.
I turn away, unable to watch it burn.
I have to find Oliver.
OLIVER
The night sky is electric.
The mountains to the north, the Wicker Woods, set alight.
I stand on the shore of the lake watching the flames raze down through the trees, a sound like thunder.
I know it’s my fault. I couldn’t face her—I left her room while she slept. I snuck out like a coward because I couldn’t tell her the truth and now I feel the dark pulling me under. The forest always there—clawing at me, bones and teeth, trying to draw me back in. She was my only remedy, and I left her alone.