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Right. I was the assistant here.
I shouldered the backpack and tromped toward the copse of trees, inhaling the loamy scent of the forest. It had rained not long ago, and the dampness lingered in the pleasant way of healthy, growing things. The trees here were unhurried and steady, boulders in the rushing river of the rest of forest life. Trees didn’t much concern themselves with grasses, rodents, insects, or even humans. They probably classed us all together—if they even recognized us at all.
In a low voice, Lucy asked, “So hands on the trunk, right?”
I hesitated. I had never needed to explain it to anyone, but that seemed like the easiest way to put on a show. “You do that. Find a big tree in their line of sight. That’s probably what they’ll expect, and they’ll be watching you. I’m going to be as subtle as I can and I’ll let you know what to tell them.”
Lucy mouthed a skeptical, drawn-out, “O-kaaaaay,” at me, but found a thick tree at the edge of the copse in sight of our observers in black. She shook out her hands and stroked a nearby branch before selecting a knob, laying both hands on the trunk, closing her eyes, and tilting her head back to look up at the canopy.
I winced. That might keep our observers’ attention, but it wasn’t going to be a sustainable position with her neck cocked back like that. I slipped into the trees and bent to unlace my boots and slip out of my socks. Ideally, I’d just walk beneath the trees and enjoy the beauty, but that wasn’t in the cards for today.
Trying to keep my face blank, I put my bare toes onto a visible root and began to trace its path away from its tree and deeper into the copse. The wood of the root was rough and damp beneath my feet and I could feel the gentle hum of the tree families in the grove. Green magic felt low key enough to be almost passive to me, like sending out the request to connect to the old dial-up internet, waiting through the screeching noises, and then getting a halting, weak connection. Information came back to me from the network, but it was slow, and interpreting it was what took work. Connecting with the trees while avoiding the tender observation of Enforcement made it even harder. And I wasn’t a big fan of anything on my bare feet, especially something so damp and roughly textured.
But I didn’t want to advertise my investigation over Lucy’s farce, so I fought down my sensory processing differences and focused on what I knew about trees, letting my mind connect to the plant life around me.
Trees and their nearby fungi have a network among themselves. The technical term is the mycorrhizal network, but people who know about it usually just call it the Wood Wide Web. Trees pass chemical signals as they are attacked, damaged, or in need of resources. The other trees respond by building up their own defenses to the danger and passing resources between themselves to strengthen their copse.
I had grown more used to the sensations of rough wood and dampness on my feet, so I brought my awareness back to the physical root I was balancing on and the information I could glean from it. There was a steady buzz of energy that felt like a generalized warning, but it was low level and not of extreme concern. The trees and fungi weren’t on alert. They hadn’t recognized whatever happened here as a serious, active threat.
The rope at my wrist squeezed a warning and I jumped as a small, sharp jolt of electricity stung the bottom of my foot. I knew that trees could send slow electrical signals through their mycorrhizal network, but I had never felt one before. The root looked the same under my foot, but I got a general sense of unease from behind me. I turned and saw nothing notable. Lucy was lazily circling the tree she’d chosen, her hand trailing the smooth bark, eyes mostly closed. Through the branches, I could see the black line of Enforcement still standing guard at the roadside. I couldn’t hear them. When had they gone silent? I closed my eyes to concentrate better, but I couldn’t tell what caused the pang of unease from the trees.
“Notice anything? Or feel any lethargy?” I called, pitching my voice loudly enough that Lucy could hear but our Enforcement pals could not. When she didn’t respond, I opened my eyes and turned to see her staring right through me. “Lucy? Lucy!”
She didn’t respond.
I pulled the straps tighter on my backpack and paced back to my boots and socks. My rope pressed into my wrist again and I spun around, but I didn’t see a threat. As I bent to get my footwear, my head bashed into something and I sat down hard. Bright splashes of light danced in front of my eyes. I glanced all around, shaking my head to clear it. I couldn’t see anything close. What had I hit my head on?
My rope wasn’t squeezing, but I reached my non-dominant hand out, just in case something injured me, and brushed against what felt like a wall. There was nothing I could see, but I could feel the energy spillover of the boundary even as I traced the smooth coolness that kept me from Lucy.
It felt like a wall, and I had somehow gotten trapped inside. Possibly a ward of some kind? There were rumored to be mages with powers like this, but they were of the metallic clans and no one knew anything about them. Rumors and fan fiction about people with purported metallic magic were rampant, though.
Lucy meandered around a few feet away. She turned toward the line of Enforcement officers, eyes glazed, and wandered in their direction before sitting with a thump in the grasses. Her head moved slowly, looking toward me and then toward the road, but her eyes were unfocused and her breathing shallow.
I pushed on the ward holding me back, but it was solid and unmovable. I used both hands to shove at it, then ran my hand along the boundary in all directions. It seemed solid. I tried knocking on it with no response. It didn’t look like anyone on the other side could hear or see me, and it didn’t seem like I was getting out until whatever kept me here decided I could go. And the odds of that weren’t looking good, based on the history of people disappearing here.
My wrist pulsed and then squeezed tight. I wanted to rub the sting away, but I turned at the warning and was nearly tackled by a large, fluffy dog trailing a leather leash. I couldn’t tell what breed he was, but his thick fur was buff colored and soft. He sniffed me and eagerly dripped drool on my hands, then my feet, while I wrestled his collar around. It said his name was Teddy and gave a phone number. I slid the backpack off and fumbled around for my phone—I hadn’t even considered trying to call someone.
My phone had no signal. Of course. That would have been too easy.
“Hello?” I called out. “Can anyone hear me?”
There was no answer, either from Lucy and the officers or from whatever was deeper in the woods where Teddy came from. I scratched Teddy’s fluffy head and checked his tongue as he panted. He looked dehydrated. I poured some water from my bottle into a clean specimen jar and held it out him. He almost knocked me down and spilled it in his rush to get the water into his mouth. Poor Teddy. I poured him three more drinks and rubbed his back. I had my water bottle, plus Lucy’s jar of spaghetti water and whatever she had put in the flask. It looked like water, but you could never be sure with her. And who knew how long that would have to last?
Three Enforcement officers rushed into the park toward Lucy and I tensed, but she didn’t respond as they scooped her up and carried her back to the truck. I saw one of them try to assess her before she shooed him away. Then she sat on the side of the truck and stared at the area I had disappeared into. Her eyes seemed to focus as she spoke to Officer Smith, gesturing enthusiastically. I had to hope she was healthy and able to handle herself while I saw what there was to see here.
Since bare feet probably couldn’t help me, I wiped the dirt and drool off them with the towel from my bag, wishing I could really clean them. I would just have to cope with the discomfort. I pulled on my socks and boots while fending off the enthusiastic advances of Teddy the slobbery helper—because clearly, I was near the ground so I could play with him. My attempts to turn away from his kisses only made them more urgent. I stood, my face safely out of his reach.
“Okay, Teddy. Where are your people?”
He didn’t respond in words—not that I anticipated he would. But he wagged his tail and bounded away deeper into the woods and down a slope. With a last glance at Lucy, who still seemed to be staring at me even though I knew she couldn’t see me, I got my backpack resettled and set off to follow my eager and slobbery escort.
Chapter Three
I trudged down the slope after Teddy. The first thing I noticed was the scent. I had been smelling the damp green air of a heavily deciduous forest, but as we walked, a more earthy scent started to dominate. There was an underlying sweetness in the air as well. I knelt and put my hand to the base of a tree, but I couldn’t differentiate any warning or threat. I pushed a bit of green thread into the tree and waited, but it didn’t respond with more information. Then I had to stand up or risk being tackled by my eager canine partner. My wrist cord had stopped responding to Teddy as a threat.
I could no longer see the road or the people there.
The air thickened and I rubbed at my eyes, like I was facing a high pollen count. I sneezed hard, surprising myself and several rodents and birds in my immediate area. I wasn’t normally allergic, but whatever this was made my eyes itchy and my breathing heavy. Teddy bounded back to me as I gasped in a breath, his tail wagging and his tongue lolling across his jaw. I put my hand on his head and he pressed his big body against my leg, helping me steady myself. As I pushed forward, the earthy scent was overtaken by a sickly sweet one, like I had been buried in a pile of slightly spoiled flowers between one step and the next. A glance around showed no visible changes, but the air was redolent with the sweet floral scent.
