Bram Oakhilt's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Bram Oakhilt wanted to find the biggest ginseng root in the world, and he had wanted it since he could walk. The trouble was simple. He had no idea where such a root grew. The Hollow stretched wider than a boy could cross in ten years. He knelt in the mud outside his river shack and turned the dirt with his knife. Nothing but worms and thin white threads. A man could search this ground till his beard went gray and die with empty hands. His dog nosed the hole and whined. Bram scratched its ears. "You smell fish. I smell nothing." He touched the giant teeth strung at his throat. He had pulled those from a marsh-hound bigger than a cart. He was not scared of size. He was scared of wandering blind forever. The dog stiffened. It bolted toward the tree line, barking. Bram grabbed his sling and ran after it. The dog stopped at a house he had never seen. The walls were twisting red wood, wet like meat, dripping like something alive. Roots gripped the roof and squeezed. He should have run. He walked closer. A light moved in the doorway. Not a lantern. A tiny woman, no taller than his hand, glowing green. Leaves grew from her hair. Her legs trailed down into pale roots that curled like a ginseng plant pulled fresh from soil. She hovered over the rotten step and watched him with sharp eyes. "You dig without a map," she said. Her voice was small and dry. "You'll find nothing but worms." Bram's grip tightened on the sling. "Then give me a map." She laughed. "Boys don't order fairies." She drifted closer. "But you don't run. That's rare here." She pointed one root-thin finger back at the twisting house. "The oldest root in the Hollow sleeps under this floor. Bigger than you. Older than the trees. Men have died reaching for it." Bram stared at the dripping walls. His heart slammed. This was it. The thing he had chased his whole life sat under his boots. "Show me," he said. "I can show you the way in," the fairy said. "I cannot bring you out. The house keeps what it takes." She spun a slow circle above the step. "Still want it?" Bram thought of years spent digging empty holes. He thought of dying old with nothing. He pushed the door. It gave under his hand, warm and soft as skin. The dog growled but followed. Inside, the air smelled of blood and wet earth. The floor pulsed. Somewhere below, something huge shifted in the dark. The fairy's light shrank behind him. The door swung shut on its own. Bram had found where the great root grew. Now he had to reach it before the house swallowed him whole.