Prologue
She stumbled through the trees toward the river. Half blind with tears, she clutched her father’s hunting knife, not that it would help her. There were too many, she was too weak… and they were gaining on her. A panicked look over her shoulder. Four torches bobbed through the forest behind her. Branches tore at her face, her breath came hot in her throat, her head throbbed, and her thoughts were muddled.
Smoke on the wind.
She was almost at the river. Rushing water. Her boots sank into softer soil, mud sucking at her feet. She put a hand over her breast pocket, feeling the tiny body there, the last link she had to her father. A dog bayed and someone called something to his companion.
She stumbled forward, the cold water rushing into her boots and up her legs, then swallowing her body. She let the current carry her downstream, to where the banks were thick with old growth. She glimpsed the night sky through the canopy, celestial bodies that cared nothing of her plight. They’d seen worse come and go.
She knew the tree she sought, could find it in the light of day or the dark of night, though it looked like so many others. She and her brother had discovered it years ago, delighting in the horror and secrecy of the place. They’d sworn to keep the knowledge of it to themselves until the rest of their siblings were old enough to cope with the danger of reaching it.
Overhead, her moth fluttered, keeping track of her; but where she needed to hide, he could not follow. He would wait and let her know when it was safe for her to come out.
Still gasping for air and her lungs burning from the run, the tree’s thick, twisted roots, which looked haunted and frightening, were the most welcome sight in the world. The riverbank was a vertical mud cliff, about the height of a man, riddled with stones and laced with gnarly roots that had been exposed over the years by flowing water.
Not far away, her stalkers argued, searched, branches and twigs snapping.
She hooked a hand under a root of the ancient tree and pulled herself under. Water filled her ears, drowning out the sounds of pursuit. Her mind quailed, as it always did when she went into these roots, her imagination conjuring toothy predators, water snakes, flesh-eating fish. Her fears warred with the truth: this was her home; she knew this river and this forest as well as she knew her own face. Nothing would hurt her here, and best of all, no one would find her.
It was too dark to see anything, but she knew what to feel for. She pulled herself down first, hand over hand, gripping the roots, dragging herself along. She slithered through until she felt the root with the sharp bend. Now she needed to ascend. Her head broke the surface and she sucked in a gasp of dank, earthy air. She opened her eyes but remained blind as she crawled out of the water, dragging herself up into the pocket of air trapped beneath this great tree. She could hear nothing of the outside world in this cradle of roots and mud—it was fully insulated and felt as far from the real world as the stars were from the soil. She lay down, panting, sensing for Morpho. He was so faint, barely a wisp. Her wet hair had wrapped itself around her neck and felt like a noose. She scraped it away and closed her eyes. Her body rested; her heart began to slow. Her head ached where she’d been struck and she found herself unable to think. When she tried to process why she had run, why she was hiding down here, her mind hit a wall. She only knew that she had to stay down here until there was no air left, because behind that barrier in her memory was something very bad: She’d lost everything and everyone. She and Morpho were utterly and completely alone now. She listened to her own breathing and tried not to remember. It hurt too much.
Eventually, she fell into a dreamless sleep.
Over her head, men searched and fires burned.
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