determined. She’d dive through the portal or doorway or whatever it was and—“No!” The vines had disconnected from her and withered, the remains drifting away on a gentle breeze.
Frantic, she patted the stalkless air. “Pearl Jean?” she shouted, going still. Tremors wracked her. “Sugars?” Where were they?
She licked her lips. Maybe she could create another...portal? with those vines? What you did once, you could do again. Right?
A humorless laugh escaped. Re-create something she didn’t understand? Yeah. No big deal. Still, she had to try.
Cookie extended her arms and shook her hands. Nothing happened. She shook with more force, but the heat never reignited in her fingertips.
“Come on, come on.” She wiggled. Flapped. Jumped. Still nothing.
Hysteria bubbled up, making a mockery of the panic. How was she supposed to get home? She needed to get home. Pearl Jean and Sugars—A vicious roar tore through the forest, and she sucked in a breath.
Currents of rage crackled, prickling her skin. The fairies zoomed off as fast as lightning.
Cookie gripped her throat in reflex, calling, “Wait. Come back.”
Alone in a strange place? This was fine. Everything was fine. Her knees knocked, threatening to fold. What should she do? Stay here or venture out for help?
She executed another spin, scanning her surroundings more carefully. The trees weren’t actually pink, she realized. Hundreds of ants with glowing bellies crawled over the trunks. Briar patches grew along the edges of the brook, warning visitors away. Purple mushrooms oozed on a fallen log. In the distance, a deer with mother-of-pearl horns munched on nuts and examined her without concern.
Even as another bloodcurdling roar sounded, making her shudder, the deer continued eating, unfazed. Because he knows I’m slower and more likely to be dinner.
Breathe. Just breathe. Light-headed, she clasped a branch, hoping to steady herself.
“Ouch!” A thousand needles seemed to prick her palm, and she hurriedly released the lifeline. In seconds, large red welts popped up on her hand and forearm. Queasy, she hunched over.
What the—A thick tree root curled around her ankle and yanked.
Cookie crashed to her butt, air bursting from her lungs and stars winking before her eyes. Then. That moment. The nausea won the war. Twisting to the side, she vomited the contents of her stomach.
When she finished, she clambered to her feet, unwilling to stay down any longer than necessary. She had no experience with...stargates? wormholes? But her avatar had plenty. In the video game, she remained ready for anything always. Here, now, the stakes were a thousand times higher. Relax her guard, even for a moment? No.
Another roar erupted, and birds took flight. Branches bounced and slapped her. Though she wobbled, she didn’t fall. Thankfully, the roarer—whatever it was—sounded farther away.
Crickets chirped with relief, and locusts whirred. A frog croaked. Normal sounds in an abnormal situation.
She drew her arms around her middle, shrinking into herself. Before she figured out her next move, she needed to understand her previous one. Somehow, she’d...what? Opened some kind of transport to a different location on Earth? Another dimension? Planet? Alternate reality?
The hysteria threatened to spike. She inhaled and exhaled for calm. For now, she accepted the fact that she’d left Oklahoma, and that she hadn’t traveled by normal means. No more, no less. Now, she needed a plan to get home.
Okay. All right. This, she could do. Every quest she’d ever won, she’d tackled the same way: one step at a time.
Cookie slipped into game mode, her tasks aligning. Search for a nearby town. There, she could figure out the monetary system, acquire cash, food, shelter, weapons and answers. If someone drew her a world map, even better.
She couldn’t allow fear to derail her, as if she were some kind of—Cookie shuddered—rookie.
In her experience, the biggest mistake new players made remained the same, no matter their age or skill. When fear of the unknown invaded, they disregarded their endgame. Rather than working to achieve a goal, they focused on quieting their sense of urgency, which only ever led to desperation.
Today’s trials, tomorrow’s strengths. A mantra she’d repeated over and over again as a child. If ever there’d been a time to bring it back...
Another roar left her reeling. Because it was closer than the first one. The creature, whatever it was, must have doubled back. She expected a hungry predator to breathe down her neck any second. Even the deer reacted, dashing away.
Time to blow this joint. Cookie plunged forward, following the same path as the deer. Dangers lurked all around. Not just the fairies and the roaring