Untamed - A. G. Howard Page 0,20
than the monsters on this side of the gate? And he’s been taught how to best those. Surely his knowledge can get him in and out of Wonderland unscathed.
Jaw clenched, David leaps to his feet and rushes through the gate before fear or reason can stop him.
ANCHOR
In a chain reaction, the moment David steps through the gate, it slams shut behind him. His uncle would be safe from any stray Wonderland creatures until the mechanism reset itself with the tulgey wood’s mouth opening and closing. Only then would the gate allow anyone in from the same entrance again. Even David would have to find a new pathway to it . . . through another tulgey’s throat.
A panicked flush burns David’s face. He feels alone and scared for all of an instant before remembering that he’s been trained as a knight. His plan could work. He just has to find a fae with healing powers to spare and then make a trade of some sort. They’re rumored to collect human trinkets.
David removes his gloves, revealing the ring he received after he was anointed: a shiny band of pure gold, inlaid with sparkly diamonds around its circumference and a large glittering ruby setting, with a white cross of jade embedded in the center. To him, it is invaluable, far beyond its monetary worth, but he is willing to give it away if it means saving Uncle William.
The horrible rotting stench stings his eyes even behind his goggles. He turns on the light around the leather frames to illuminate the mossy trail beneath him, and begins running. After what feels like a quarter of a mile, the air seems to thin. He fights for breath in the enclosed, dark space. His goggles fog and he slides them off his face so they hang at his neck, still lighting his steps.
He rounds a bend and an opening comes into view, offering a hazy light to see by and a fresh stream of air. Panting, David turns off his goggles so he won’t be conspicuous when stepping from the unhinged jaw onto the ground outside.
He draws his sword as he catapults over the teeth and lands inside a thicket. A loud creaking sound makes him spin to face the tree he just exited. The jaws snap at him. He jumps backward, barely escaping before the teeth retract into the trunk to form what appears to be a benign wooden grain in the bark—though David knows better.
Tall neon grasses feather around his boots as he circles the thicket, looking for a path out.
Some tangled bushes behind him quiver. Clenching his jaw, he centers himself in the middle of a small clearing out of reach of the foliage and trees surrounding him, although there’s still a canopy of branches overhead he keeps in his sights.
The bushes shake again, and he holds up his sword, mentally preparing for one of the netherlings who’ve been spit back out of the tulgey in strange and horrible forms. Possibly a fire ant with a body made of flames, or a rocking-horsefly, with wooden rockers affixed to its six legs.
Instead, a strained yelp erupts on the other side of the bushes, followed by an outburst of hysterical miniature voices, all the more unsettling for their childlike banter.
“Stupidesses! Stupid, stupid, stupid! She usn’t like runner-aways!”
“Atchcay the umanlinghay!”
“Yesses! Or be our necks deadses and stomped.”
“Missing stakes happen.”
“Mistakens or notses, Twid Two asks usses to tie it up.”
“Onay oremay eamsdray!”
“She will hang usses by our necks . . . deadses-deadses-dead are we!”
David picks through his language training. It’s like pig latin mixed with nonsensical jargon. Three of the phrases he can make out clearly enough: The miniature-voiced creatures are chasing a runaway humanling, they’re concerned about a lack of dreams, and they’re about to have nooses around their necks.
The voices grow louder and the bushes rattle again. David ducks behind a large rock to watch. He can’t let himself be captured or hurt . . . Uncle William needs him to find help and hurry back. The leaves on the bushes part, and something plunges through.
David gasps to see a naked human boy, maybe six years older than him, stumble into the soft light of the clearing. He’s the color of milk, all but the shock of black hair on his head. It’s as if the blood has drained from him . . . not just from his face, but his torso and arms and legs, too. Then David realizes the boy’s not completely naked