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Chapter One

Susara

“ I t’s fine. Everything is fine .”

The wind caused red oak leaves to rain down onto the moss-covered ground.

The scent of crisp autumn foliage and the incoming chill tickled my nose.

The soil beneath my feet was soggy and my leather boots were almost covered to the ankle in muck.

The evening sunlight peeked in through the canopy, casting the world in a golden hue that was not nearly warm enough to dry out my damp clothes or warm my goosebump-covered arms.

And surrounding me, bleating like their lives were at risk, was my beautiful flock of sheep. Their clean wool was crisp, their dark eyes shined in the dim, and their stomachs grumbled.

Because their favorite grazing patch was now a pond .

“I don’t know how this happened either, Midnight,” I murmured as my most devoted ewe came to bleat at my side. The others milled about, bellowing at the water, at the rocks, at the sky. Obviously cursing the Fades who had made them and taken away their grass.

“We’ll find more.” I gave Midnight’s bushy black head a little pat. The ewe snorted as if she didn’t believe me. “I will! It’s not like the forest has no grass. I’m certain if we walk around, we’ll find more. . . somewhere. . . Snowy, get away from the water! You’ll muddy your bandage.”

I rushed toward the injured sheep. With her bright white coat, one would never think she could get into mischief.

My knees were instantly soaked as I kneeled next to Snowy. She bleated in my face and her hot breath warmed my chilly cheeks. I lifted her hind leg and examined the tightly woven bandage around her flank. No bleeding. No signs of puss. She was just as hungry as she’d ever been.

“Get back over there,” I mumbled, giving her a gentle push toward the other three sheep who were now congregating as far from the pond as possible. “What’s the matter with you all? It’s just a little flooding. ”

Odd flooding, though. We hadn’t had rain in half a moon, and this wasn’t a particularly low spot.

“So strange.” A sinking sensation washed through me as I got to my hands and knees and peered into the water. It shouldn’t be very deep. Right?

I was met with the sight of my reflection first. Chubby cheeks, freckles, hair the color of rotting straw. It even looked like straw with how dry it was.

Not that it mattered. It didn’t. I was a shepherdess!

I spent all my time in the woods. And there had been so many oddities of late, it was a wonder I had time to sleep.

If only the sheep would stop having odd mishaps like getting their legs stuck between rocks and slipping on nothing.

And now their grazing patch had disappeared under a pool of water.

My father’s chiding tone firmed in my mind. “The woods are too dangerous for you. You need to choose a partner.”

A partner. I knew which one he meant. My father wanted me to pick Jophel, a greasy, arrogant man who just did not want to take no for an answer. I’d rather eat my thumbs than tie myself to him.

But he was also the only man who’d expressed any interest in taking over the flock.

I gritted my teeth with determination, yanked up the sleeve of my wool gown, and reached into the water, feeling around the bottom for the tender, bright green grass that I knew would be there.

My hand sunk and sunk .

All the way up past my elbow.

I snapped my hand out of the water and scrambled back. The sheep bleated and scurried at my sudden movements.

“It’s all right, Susara,” I said to myself, though my voice was filled with tension, and my eyes were huge on the pond before me. “It’s. . . everything is fine .”

But it wasn’t fine. It wasn’t fine at all.

I carefully got to my feet picking up my shepherd’s crook as I went.

It was taller than I was, and the wood was strong.

I clasped it tightly and tucked my thumb into the nook near the top that had been made by the constant rubbing of three generations.

My grandfather, my father, now me. Nearly a hundred years as herders for Oakwall Village.

And I’d never heard of or seen anything like this pool of water.

I hesitantly moved to the edge of it again .

“Just stay back,” I said to my sheep. They went back to nibbling reluctantly at the few blackberry vines near the edge of the clearing and I dipped my stick into the water.

It went down. And down. And down .

Until my fingers nearly touched.

The grass wasn’t underwater. The grass was gone .

I pulled out my crook and backed away from the edge as a shiver raced up my spine. I didn’t take my eyes away from the threat for a moment.

How had this happened? And why? Why would the Fades steal away my family’s largest grass patch? We’d been leading our sheep to it since my grandfather was first shepherd. It had always been here, like a steadfast friend.

And now it was just gone .

With a sharp inhale, I pursed my lips just right and let out a low whistle.

The bright sound pierced through the chilly air and carried deep into the surrounding woods.

I scanned the tree line, adjusting my pack so I could get some parchment and a pencil.

I needed to write to my father and Headman Gerald.

They needed to know about this. . . this collapse of the ground.

It wasn’t natural.

I finished scrawling the note and searched the gold and red trees again.

No bird had come. Why hadn’t a bird come?

Here in the Rove Woods, bird messengers were common, but they were enchanted by orc magic, so using them could be difficult for humans.

It had taken me years of practice to learn the right whistle to call them.

Most of my fellow villagers never learned.

It didn’t matter to them since they spent most of their lives within the walls of our village.

But I was out here alone and the ability to send a bird for aid was vital. It was one of the only reasons my father allowed me to continue this work.

I whistled again. And again.

Still, a bird did not come. The woods around me were eerily silent.

“L-let’s move on to another spot for now.

” I tried to keep my voice steady and confident, even as my heart began a frantic tempo.

I turned to my flock and tapped my crook on the ground.

“We can move on to the east. We’re certain to find some lovely patch of something yummy some. . . where. . . where is Midnight?”

I hurried into the flock of sheep, moving around them to search behind trees and bushes. Their bushy white bodies were warm under my fingertips as I counted them. Once, twice.

All here but Midnight.

“Blast it all, Midnight. Why do you keep wandering off?” I clicked my tongue and tapped the sheep gently on their behinds with my crook to get them moving. They bleated in outrage that we were abandoning their favorite spot without so much as a nibble.

“The grass isn’t here, Rosemary,” I said tensely as I tapped the stubborn sheep’s woolly bottom again. “Now, come on. We need to find Midnight before she gets into more trouble.”

She was our best ewe. Our only black one. The sweetest one in the flock.

And also, the most daring. I swear, Midnight wandered into trouble at least once a moon.

I couldn’t let that happen today. Not after we’d already lost the grazing ground. Father would be in a right state when he found out. His joints would probably flare up even worse from the stress. He worried about me too much already .

“You need to choose a partner.”

I gritted my teeth. I wouldn’t have minded a partner, really.

All my fondest memories were with my father and mother by my side.

There was a little shelter right across the clearing that we’d all built together.

My father and I still stayed overnight there during the summer.

Or at least we had until his joints. . .

I pushed my worries aside and chose instead to focus on the fond memories of my childhood—before my mother had died, before my father had become unwell. We’d worked as a team out here. A whole lifetime of labor and laughter and love.

But I would have none of that with Jophel. The only one who wanted me. All he wanted was for me to look pretty while I slaved over his stove.

“Midnight!” I called as we walked through the woods. The sheep bleated and followed hesitantly. I clicked my tongue to keep them moving, but their hungry bellies were quite the distraction, and the blackberry vines were rampant in this area. “Midnight. Here, girl!”

No luck. Not even a rustle in the bushes. The wind in the trees was growing stronger, and the light was dimming as the sun set behind them, casting deep, dark shadows. There wasn’t time for this.

“Midnight, you come out here this instant .” My voice was edged with panic and I rubbed my thumb against the groove in my crook, wishing that the nervous habit could do more than remind me my predecessors had all done the same.

They’d all had setbacks. They’d all had injured sheep and bad grazing days and lost—

A bleat in the distance made me want to collapse with relief. I could recognize Midnight’s low, lazy tone anywhere.

“This way.” I clicked my tongue, and the sheep followed at my heel.

I focused on my familiar surroundings to ease my worry.

I’d walked—and been carried before that—these woods my entire life.

Thirty-three years of breathing in the fresh and fragrant air, eating wild berries, drinking clean water from the springs.

The bleating sounded again, and my heart leaped into my throat as I saw a rocky outcropping. “Fades, have mercy. Midnight, why did you go there ?” She knew how dangerous it was to climb those rocks.

The face of them stretched high above my head and I knew on the opposite side was a cliff that fell into a prickle patch. Every sheep tried to get to that delicious-looking patch at least once in their youth. I’d bandaged up more scrapes and scratches from it than I could count.

“Stay here,” I said to the flock, though I need not have. There was a tiny patch of clover at the base, which, despite the threat, was the reason we came to this area at all.

I hoisted myself up, following the path I’d climbed a dozen or more times.

A fine sheen of sweat cooled my forehead.

“Midnight, I’m going to strangle you,” I mumbled as I heaved up onto the next boulder.

Far below me, I could see the sheep still grazing.

A few lazily watched me while munching their clover.

At least none of them had wandered off yet.

I got up to a large boulder with a smooth, even top, and a muffled bleat sounded.

From below me.

Confused, I looked down. Eleven sheep. Midnight still wasn’t among them.

I let out a whistle. “Midnight! Come!”

Another bleat. It was to my left. Still so muffled. Where was she? All we had around were rocks.

I managed to get up to the next level, and my stomach dropped .

I knew these rocks and boulders like the back of my hand and I knew there should not be a crack in them here. The dark, jagged opening was large enough to fit a grown man inside. The chasm plunged deep, and I wanted to stay as far away from it as possible.

A low bleat sounded from inside and my heart stopped. My fingers scrambled to get my lantern out of my pack. I lit the candle inside with a match and hung it on the end of my crook.

Carefully, I moved to the edge of the crevasse and lowered my lantern to look.

I gasped with horror.

Fades, have mercy . What was I going to do now ?