Friday, September 26. In the woods. Unfortunately.

Claim. A tree. I had a million questions. But what I said was, “Okay, how?”

“You brought salt?”

I crawled into the tent and dug around in my backpack until I pulled out two containers of table salt.

I held one out to her. 

She took it, then frowned, wrinkling her nose. 

“What is wrong with this salt?”

I popped the canister open and sniffed. 

Smelled fine to me. 

Shook it. 

Sounded fine too. I didn’t hear any clumps and it didn’t feel like one big rock of salt.

“What do you mean?”

“It smells…” She wrinkled her nose. “That isn’t salt. There is something else there.” She took the canister back, studied the label. “What does this word mean?” 

She pointed to iodized.

“Uh…I don’t know.” 

Hadn’t RealFoodRon used some kind of fancy salt? Himalayan or something. It was pink. Not table salt. Was this why?

I turned the salt, scanning the label.

“It looks like they added iodine. And…something that is an anti-caking agent.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. 

She poured some in her hand, held it for a moment. “I think it will do, for tonight. But we will need to find something pure tomorrow.”

“What does the salt do?”

“It creates a barrier. Purifies everything within. Servants of Chaos can’t cross it.”

“A barrier,” I repeated. “Like they do for ghosts and stuff on those TV shows?“

“You know of the restless but not hollows?”

My brain ground to a halt. This week had been weird enough. I didn’t need it becoming weirder.

“Restless? Ghosts? That’s just pretend. No one actually—“

Her flat look had me clamping my mouth shut.

Nope. I was not pushing that topic any further.

“So, this salt—you’ll be safe inside it? Like a wizard’s circle?” That seemed simple enough. “What do I do?”

“It is much more than protection. It marks a place where the land may restore itself.”

She demonstrated, pouring a line of salt on the ground. “It has to be complete. If left open, it will not seal, and taint can cross.”

I eyed the two containers of salt. I’d bought the biggest the store had, but it was glaringly obvious I hadn’t gotten enough.

“It’ll have to be a tight ring,” I said. “I think I can get around the tent, and the tree—we need the tree too, yes?”

“Yes. It will have to do for tonight.”

I rubbed my arms. 

My hair stood on end.

Not from cold.

Lusa looked up, eyes suddenly wide. “Hurry.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer—just started walking, pouring salt. 

I took the second canister and headed the opposite direction, using my phone to see. Moonlight slipped between the branches. The shadows seemed to move whenever I wasn't looking directly at them. 

I cursed my stupidity for forgetting to bring a flashlight. 

I hadn't noticed the night sounds stopping.

One heartbeat the forest sang.

The next...

Nothing. 

Just pour the salt in a circle, simple right?

Yeah, no. 

I kept glancing up, making sure we were headed toward each other. The canister grew lighter as the salt flowed out. My shoulders tightened, breath coming a little faster.

It took a second to realize the tension wasn’t entirely mine. The hair on my arms hadn’t gotten the memo.

Something was wrong.

I couldn't have said what. 

Too many horror flicks. Sure.

Skirted a little dip in the ground that ate up a deceptive amount of salt. 

Come on…

A strange pressure built around us. The air seemed to thicken until I could feel it pressing against my skin.

Not threatening.

Not comforting either.

Just...there. 

Like opening the server room door at work. You couldn't point to anything in particular, but you were suddenly aware of invisible things quietly doing their jobs. 

I bumped into Lusa.

“Good?”

“This one is empty,” she said.

I tore open both canisters, shaking out every last bit. 

Lusa stepped back inside the circle. 

Still short. Maybe a two-inch gap.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” I snarled. 

I retraced my steps. Found the first little dip that had eaten so much salt. Scooped a handful—careful to leave a complete line.

Somewhere out in the dark, something moved.

Not a small animal. Too heavy.

A branch snapped.

“Hurry,” Lusa hissed.

Fear slammed into me—sharp, immediate. 

Whatever was out there didn’t need light.

And I had nothing. No flashlight. No weapon. Not even a damn pocket knife.

City boy much?

I ran, cradling salt in one hand, phone in the other. 

It would be just my luck to trip and spill the whole thing— 

I stumbled. Righted myself, barely.

Stupid, stupid, Nate! Why would you think that right now?! 

Was I asking for the universe to give me a smack down? Hadn’t I been through enough this week?

Another branch snapped. 

Closer.

It was making an awful lot of noise, like it was toying with us.

Where was that gap?

I found it, dumped the salt—

—and the building tension released, replaced by a serene energy humming against my skin.

I stepped back and the sensation eased.

Was that—the salt?

I glanced back. 

Lusa stared with palpable terror into the darkness. Even when facing down those willows she hadn’t seemed this afraid. 

I shone my phone, sweeping the trees. 

I saw it.

Or at least where it was.

Whatever it was, it was tall. It went up and up, a good foot taller than me, at least. I couldn’t make out any features, just a rough shape. It was darker than the night around us, once again something I wouldn’t have thought possible.

Last week was starting to look really good right now.

“Lusa’ta, you have woken.”

There was something absolutely wrong about the voice. It left a wet buzzing sensation beneath my skin, like my body couldn't decide whether to shiver or throw up. Stories always liked to claim the villain had an oily voice. This was much worse. 

“Why did you wake?” the thing said. “You’ve returned to nothing. Your land stripped, your court scattered—those who served you gone.”

Other shadows, smaller, whip-thin, gathered around it. 

I knew those.

Willows. And…something else. Were they hollows too?

I couldn’t make the shapes out, but they were the same mist and oil and not wholly there. The same sickly green eyes.

Lusa didn’t answer.

“So weak, little Lusa’ta,” the shadow’s voice dripped with glee.

Anger flashed through me. It took me a moment to realize it was mine. That my hands were balled into fists. 

Bastard. He was enjoying this. 

The new hollows crept forward. They looked like…dogs. Mangy, lean things. 

“You should have kept sleeping. Shouldn’t have left the ruins of your grove.”

A thought rang through me, clanging like a gong.

That thing knew her. Had called her by name.

A wave of emotion threatened to sweep me away. Fear. Horror. Nausea.

“Lusa,” I hissed through clenched teeth.

She didn’t hear me.

“Tahsalo,” she whispered.

A word. So soft, I thought for a moment I had imagined it.

Didn’t matter right now.

The shadow mutts pressed closer, circling our tiny ring of salt.

I found myself desperately wanting to believe that thin line would stop them.

Two of the willows had been enough of a problem to handle—and I’d caught them by surprise. 

There were a half-dozen of the mutt things. 

And I was fresh out of rebar.

I looked around for a stick.

Lusa grabbed my arm.

“Do not break the circle,” she hissed, voice low. “They cannot cross, only taunt.”

“Is that your new warden?” the thing said. “What a pitiful mortal. Your last one had such spirit.”

Lusa’s grip on my arm tightened—but she didn’t answer.

“Enough.”

On command, the mutts withdrew.

It had worked? They really couldn’t cross the salt?

He extended a hand. “Lusa’ta.” 

Somehow the voice was deeper, gentler. It felt a little less—wrong. “Join us. Release the mortal. Our master has power. It can be yours.”

Lusa’s hand on my arm trembled. I tore my eyes away from the shadows long enough to look at her.

Her eyes were wide. As if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

But she said nothing.

“Have it your way.” He rested a hand on a tree as big as the hickory Lusa had claimed.

Tendrils of thick shadow crept from his fingers and clung to the tree. It wrapped around the trunk as if hungry. 

Lusa released me and took a step forward.

I felt her fear, her growing horror.

I grabbed her, pulling her back from the pitiful line of salt.

She felt frail. 

Wasted away.

How had I not noticed? 

I shouldn’t have left her there that first night. 

I should have—

Not now.

I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her back against me. She was tall—the top of her head brushed my cheek.

The tree groaned as the darkness spread faster.

Leaves rained to the ground, those I could see in the wan light of my phone were shriveled, blackened.

The tree groaned again. 

Shuddered.

I looked up. 

It was going to fall.

What did we do? Run? 

That would break the salt circle and then we’d have nothing to protect us.

Stay? 

Was I really trusting a line of salt?

I didn’t think the circle was powerful enough to protect us from a tree falling on our heads. And what if it broke the circle?

I inched to the side of the circle farthest from the tree.

Wood cracked. 

Loud.

Tearing.

Limbs snapped as the canopy came apart overhead. 

I held tightly on to Lusa and closed my eyes.

She lurched forward, pulling me down with her.

I fell to my knees.

The ground shook, nearly bowling us over.

Then, silence.

I cautiously opened an eye…

…a blackened trunk lay just a few feet from our circle.

Glanced behind. Withered branches rested on the far side, just inches from the salt line. Another agonized crack and a second tree came down with a groan, landing further away—snapped by the first falling.

Finally, everything was still.

Lusa crouched, both hands on the ground. Her skin had that translucent look again, as if she was barely here.

I stood carefully and offered her a hand. She took it, stumbling to her feet.

I found myself angry. 

Not because he'd tried to crush us—though that certainly deserved it. 

But he'd done it just to make a point. 

That tree had been alive.

Come on, Nate, priorities. 

It was just a tree. 

It could have squashed you.

It sounded convincing. 

It wasn’t.

The anger refused to fade. 

I found him again. 

The thing seemed to soak up all light, lacking even the luminescent eyes of the hollows at its side. Just…shadow.

He considered us, tilting his head. “Missed. Pity.”

A pause.

“We will speak again, Lusa’ta. You will join us. When you’ve come to your senses, tell this one.”

And then…gone. As if he had never been there.

I watched the hollows melt into the night and finally exhaled. Then I saw it—one hadn’t left. It crouched by the blackened roots, patient as a dog waiting for its master.

Lusa sagged. Was it…over?

I finally found my voice. “Wh—what was that?”

“What we are up against,” Lusa said.

My blood ran cold.

“The land festers,” she continued, her voice little more than a whisper. “He grows stronger. My court—“

“Court?” I pressed.

“They have not come.”

The bond went empty. Whatever she was feeling right now, she had walled it all away.

“Come on,” I said. “You need to rest.”

“I do not—“

“You can’t even stand. What did you do?”

“It was going to fall on us,” she whispered. A tear slid down her cheek.

That did it. 

I pulled her to me. She stiffened. 

“We’re okay,” I said. “We survived.” 

I took a slow breath. “You have to get stronger, right? Anchored?”

She nodded.

“Is there anything else we can do tonight?”

She hesitated. “No.”

“It’s settled then. You rest.”

I opened the tent, found my brand new sleeping bag. Put it out for her.

She wrinkled her nose at the smell, but sat.

“Sorry. They’re new. Polyester always smells like that. It’ll air out.”

“Do your people not use wax canvas any more?”

I opened the tent windows. “There might be some out there somewhere. This is what the store had that I could afford.”

I should have bought a bigger tent. Or a second sleeping bag. 

Or a clue.

But all I said was, “Rest. I’ll keep an eye on ugly.”

Not like I could sleep with nothing but a line of salt between me and one of those things anyway. 

She didn’t argue. I zipped the door most of the way and sat with my back against the tent. 

I turned off my phone light. Hated it, but I’d need the battery. 

Waited for my eyes to adjust. The moon sank low, taking its light with it.

Eventually I could make out more than just its eyes. 

Cold crept through my clothes as adrenaline faded. I crossed my arms, refusing to look away from our…guest.

It was going to be a long night.