Page 4

You possess five senses. To survive the Hollow, you must use six.

The net stretched like a spiderweb along the bedroom wall.

It was magic—I knew it. Each time I wove a new line, invisible tendrils reached out and kissed my skin.

Standing back, I gazed upon the first truly magical thing I’d created in years…

and I hated it. Everything I’d ever made, I’d created for good.

With every thread, I’d woven love and vitality into the garments that left my possession.

But this net, it was a cursed thing, created only for suffering.

I hated it, and I hated myself for weaving it.

I plucked a thin cord, which bounced back and vibrated with a twang .

The net was strong; it would not break.

Lottie leaned on the doorframe. “What’s that for?”

“Marek asked me to make it for the hunt.” Though I was little practiced in deception, Lottie nodded and turned to leave. “There’s a bag by the door,” I said. “There’s bread and wolf’s bane. I’d like you to take it with you.”

Despite rumours that wolf’s bane might repel the Hound, Lottie performed a dramatic eye roll. “Yes, Mum,” she mocked, and left. The front door closed as Lottie headed to training. With my mother already gone, a tugging anxiousness settled over me. What if they didn’t come home?

What if they did come home, but mangled like Father and Lysander?

Massaging my temples, I pushed the ruminations away. If I didn’t quell the panic quickly, I’d be watching the door until dusk, waiting for my mother and sister to walk through.

When the net was finished, I folded it and tucked it into a satchel.

I took the satchel out and set it by the door.

The bag I’d packed for Lottie remained on the chair.

Whether she’d simply forgotten it, or left it on purpose, I wasn’t sure.

Before heading out, I checked on Lysander.

He slept on the sofa, his forehead waxen and sweaty.

Though I’d changed the bandages this morning, oozing puss had already stained the fabric a mottled yellow.

Leaning on the mantle, I ground my forehead against my palm.

I can’t do this again.

I looked out the window, to the Hollow. I loved my family, but sometimes, I couldn’t help but wonder…what would it be like? To be free of worry.

A fantasy visited me, one I entertained often, of a pretty white cottage.

Gardens surrounded the home, and my only responsibility was to tend them.

Staring through the glass panes, it felt as if the trees themselves had ropes, pulling me to freedom.

The urge to run coiled within me. The desperate need to be free of obligation—

Knock-knock-knock .

Guilt tensed me, as if I’d been caught in a crime and not some harmless daydream.

I smoothed my trousers and headed to the door.

It was no secret that Lysander was well liked in the village.

Since his attack, many admirers had stopped by to offer sympathies and gifts.

I readied myself to thank the gentleman or lady and cracked the door.

Happily, I was met by Ruven’s smile. He held up a bag and waved.

I swung the door open and invited him in.

“Can’t stay long,” Ruven said, closing the door behind him.

“Where are you off to?” I asked, only to be polite.

He shrugged. “Business at the castle.” Catching sight of Lysander, Ruven then frowned and whispered, “Dad sent these.” I accepted the bag and Ruven continued.

“Goat’s milk and cheeses. Dad swears it’ll make you strong, says to give it to Lysander.

” Ruven’s cheek tugged up and he squinted, not believing the words himself.

“Thank you,” I said. “Thank your dad for us too.”

Ruven drew a hand through his hair. “I uh, I hope you don’t mind but, uh…” His cheeks turned red. He opened the door and grabbed a crossbow he’d left outside. “I made you this.” Ruven placed the weapon in my arms. It was magnificent…and heavy.

“Ruven!” I chided and tried to return it. Ruven put his palms up and backed through the open door. “I can’t afford this!” I cried, following him down the path.

Ruven stumbled and righted himself. Backing away, he said, “It’s a gift!”

Just then, the local merchant passed with his horse and wagon. He side-eyed Ruven, and then me, and then the crossbow pointing between us. I dipped my chin, but the merchant clucked at his horse, and they trotted away.

Ruven said, “I thought, maybe, I could show you how to use it?” He paused and rubbed his neck. “Though, your mum or Lottie could probably show you better.” Ruven’s brows furrowed, as if he’d just discovered a flaw in his plan.

“Thank you.” I let the crossbow rest at my side.

It was a generous gift, and though Ruven expected nothing in return, my guilt would not allow it.

It chipped at the boundary I’d set with Ruven, when I’d refused to make him something to wear.

“Why don’t you come back tomorrow. You can show me how to use it…

and I’ll take measurements for your tunic. ”

Like a soft sunrise, joy blossomed on Ruven’s face.

“I don’t deserve you, Lili!” Without asking, he embraced me.

I awkwardly waited for Ruven to let go. “I’ll see you tomorrow.

” Softer, he continued, “In the meantime, my thoughts are with Lysander.” He rubbed my shoulder and added, “If you need anything, come to the farm.” Ruven jogged down the path, where he paused, then pointed at the crossbow. “Don’t forget to name it.”

“I—what?”

“So that it trusts you.” Ruven’s eyes shifted to the trees behind the cottage. “You wouldn’t want it to turn against you.” I examined the weapon, a gift given to protect me. Only one name came to mind.

“Ev—”

Ruven put a finger to his lips, shushing me. “Never say it out loud. You never know who might use your own weapon to harm you.”

Though unchanged, the crossbow felt heavier in my arms.

Ruven waved and, heading down the road, called back, “See you tomorrow!”

“See you tomorrow,” I murmured.

Hopefully .

Back in my bedroom, I plaited my hair. I tossed it over my shoulder, where it dangled like a golden rope.

Next, I slipped into a forest green cloak.

My father and I had made it together; it helped me move through shadows unseen.

The golden inscription along the inside hem caught the light.

A shimmer travelled across the delicate threads, revealing my father’s words from long ago.

The shadows cannot harm what they cannot find .

Be safe, my light .

I headed to the den and tucked my satchel at my side.

After careful consideration, I heaved the crossbow over my shoulder.

When my mother joined the guard, she often ‘borrowed’ weapons from the armoury.

She forced us to learn their mechanics and practice before sneaking the weapons back the following morning.

I hadn’t had the heart to tell Ruven I knew how to operate a crossbow perfectly well.

During my final check on Lysander, I nearly lost my nerve. My instincts begged me not to leave him alone, but logic shoved my feelings aside. It hissed: He will die if you do nothing!

In my heart, I knew that was true.

Quietly, I closed the back door behind me.

As I walked down the path, I passed a row of bright green foliage.

A long time ago, the foliage was littered with marvelous lavender peonies.

They brought my father immense pride; he was the only one in the land who’d managed to turn the petals lavender.

I had a suspicion there was some additive from the Hollow, but that secret died with him.

As a family, we’d come to neglect the peonies.

They hadn’t bloomed in many years.

I slipped through the gate, and the Hollow loomed ahead.

The breeze rustled the branches, which rose and fell like the belly of a sleeping animal.

I didn’t want to enter—didn’t want to awaken it—and uneasiness slowed my steps.

We used to go in together, my father and I.

Just like the crossbow, we weren’t allowed to use our names, lest we be drawn away by mimicry or magic.

Little Dove, Blueberry, Dewdrop. Those were some of the silly little nicknames my father gave me.

The names he chose for himself were far more ludicrous, Lucky Leopold the Lionheart, or Grand Gnome Gnan.

They were such terrible tongue twisters that, if I’d had to cry for help, I’d probably have died.

Thankfully, I’d never had to use them—or call out for him, even once.

In all our adventures in the Hollow, my father kept me safe.

Grief crushed my heart. If only he could have done the same for himself.

Or maybe, if I had been with him, on the night he was attacked… perhaps I could have kept him safe too.

At the edge of the trees, I paused. A musky, wet smell wafted out.

You promised Father you wouldn’t enter Scrying Hollow .

A crow cackled; it’s shriek nearly sent me stumbling back to the cottage. Back to the den where Lysander lay, inching closer to death.

I don’t have a choice.

One foot after the other, I bade the light farewell and embraced the shadows.

If it’s a liar who saves my brother's life, so be it.

“I’m sorry, Father.”

***

“There.”

I scraped the last of the leaves over my net.

It was invisible beneath the foliage, and the cords were so thin, you couldn’t see where they carried up into the trees.

When the Hound stepped on it, he’d be swept into the canopy.

I plunged a few sticks in the ground, outlining the net.

It would be a shame if I fell for my own trap.

Now, for the final part of my plan. Bait.

What sort of bait, you ask? Well, this also brings me to the stupidest part of my plan.

I’m the bait.