Artemis's Arc

Chapter 6 of 9

The path narrowed past the ravine's edge and split into three quiet hollows. The butterfly slowed above Artemis's shoulder and hung there, wings beating small and uncertain. The girl stopped behind him with the tarnished locket pressed to her chest. Artemis looked at the three openings. Each one bent out of sight after a few steps. He had learned by now that the woods closed passages behind travelers who chose wrong. He waited for the butterfly to pick. It did not pick. He knelt to see the ground. The left hollow smelled of wet stone. The middle one showed a low mossy arch of gray rock, half-swallowed by ferns. The right hollow was darker and drew a faint cold breath. He asked the butterfly which way. The butterfly circled once and landed on the girl's wrist, and stayed there. A small green creature stepped out from the roots of the middle arch. It stood no taller than Artemis's knee. Leafy sprigs curled from its head and hands. It did not speak. It lifted one leafy hand toward the left hollow and shook its head. Then it lifted the other hand toward the right hollow and shook its head again. It pointed at the mossy arch and stepped aside. Artemis did not move yet. He had trusted a guide once and been led away from a cave that would have killed him. He had also left a path once and found a grieving child. He looked at the girl. She was watching the small creature with her mouth open. He asked her what she thought. She said the little thing looked scared for them. That was enough. He thanked the sprig-creature and walked toward the arch. As he passed under the stones, something bright dropped from the top of the arch and landed in his palm. It was a key. The shaft was pale metal. The head was worked into curling shapes with a blue butterfly set at its center. He closed his hand around it. Above them, a pale bird with blue wings lifted from the crown of the arch and flew ahead down the new path, slow enough to follow. Behind them, the two other hollows folded shut. The ferns knitted together. The stone shifted. In seconds there was only forest where the openings had been. The girl made a small sound. Artemis did not turn around. He had chosen, and the woods had answered, and the answer could not be taken back. He opened his hand again and looked at the key. He did not know what it opened. He knew the butterfly had given it, and that somewhere ahead was a lock. For the first time since the dream that sent him here, he felt he was being led toward a door instead of a face. He followed the blue-winged bird down the path, the girl close behind him, the butterfly light on her wrist.