these risks. There was trouble down this road and there was no reason he had to travel it. “You’re a good friend, cousin. Maybe you should go home and tell your father what’s going on.”
“Now?”
“Yeah,” said Talen. “He might be able to help.”
“You just want me to get up and go?”
“I think so.”
Nettle gave Talen a frustrated look. “Even you,” he said.
“What?” asked Talen.
Nettle set his jaw. “I’ll leave and you’ll get turned into some wicked minion, and then, no doubt, I’ll be the one that will have to kill you. No thanks. I’m coming.”
“You’ll drag your whole family into this. Even if Da’s right and the children are not Sleth, there’s a huge chance anybody involved is going to find themselves hanging in Gallow’s Grove.”
“I’m not running home to daddy,” said Nettle.
Talen heaved a sight of relief. “I was hoping you’d say that,” said Talen. “I guess this means when monster comes around, you’ll be the man to take it.”
“I said I wasn’t running home. Not that I was an idiot.”
“Oh, you’re an idiot,” Talen said. “I think that’s already been established.”
“Right,” said Nettle. “And if I’m an idiot, that puts you somewhere on the level of a cabbage.”
Talen smiled. With all that had happened and all that was at risk, the clear and easy choice was for Nettle to take his leave. A wave of gratitude washed through Talen. There probably wasn’t a finer friend in all the New Lands than the one sitting next to him on the wagon. He reached over and clapped Nettle on the shoulder.
“What?” asked Nettle.
“Nothing,” said Talen.
Up ahead there was a break in the tall pines to either side of the road, and the sun cast long shadows across that part of the trail. Talen saw one lone firefly shine and wink out as it ascended to a tree. In a few hours the woods would pulse and sparkle with thousands of them.
Iron Boy’s ears suddenly pricked forward.
Talen looked up the road, but didn’t see anything.
The mule held its head up, alert, and slowed.
“What is it, boy?”
Talen scanned the woods and caught movement out of the side of his eye. He turned.
Iron Boy had stopped now. He stamped one foot.
“Where are they?” asked Nettle.
“It’s not a they,” said Talen. “But an it.”
“Where?”
Talen pointed at a tree in front of them. Something was standing in the boughs about halfway up. It was not a mountain cat. Not nearly that large. Nor was it one of those troublesome monkeys that were expert in stealing everything from knives to fruit. It was about the size of a small dog, hunched, and long-limbed.
He looked closer. It was a light gray, the color of shadow and bark, and its limbs seemed awkward and long. Or maybe it was just the light. “What is it?”
Nettle followed Talen’s gaze and stared. “Well, it’s kind of hard to say. I can’t be sure, but it looks like a tree to me.”
“Goh, in the tree. About fifteen feet up that pine. There’s something looking at us.”
Nettle looked at Talen, he looked back at the tree, squinted, and looked back at Talen.
“Nothing’s there.”
“It’s right in front of your face.”
“Hallucinations.” Nettle said. “Maybe those stupid ginger abominations did have come-backs.”
Talen wasn’t seeing things. It was right there.
“I never have this problem with bread pudding,” said Nettle.
Whatever it was moved out of the shadows of the trees and into the waning light.
Talen blinked. It was still there.
Iron Boy chuffed.
“See that?” Talen asked. “Iron Boy didn’t have any ginger.”
He had to admit the coloring of the thing made it difficult to see. It put him in mind of insects that camouflaged themselves to look exactly like bark or leaves.
“There’s nothing in the tree,” said Nettle. “Nothing on the trail. Let’s just get home.”
Talen flicked the reins and started Iron Boy into a trot. The mule protested and tried to turn away, but Talen gave the reins a good tug and shake and put Iron Boy in motion.
When they passed by the pine, the creature began to move again.
Iron Boy whinnied and picked up his gait.
The creature swung down the limbs of the tree to the needle-strewn road. Then it began scampering after the wagon in an odd, hunched gait, quickly closing the distance.
“You’re right,” said Talen, “I’m hallucinating.”
Because if he wasn’t, that meant they’d attracted the attention of a small nightmare. What else could it be? As the thing drew nearer, Talen could more easily discern the eyes, hands, and feet. But they were misshapen.