Ghost of Madrigal Thornwhisper's Arc

Chapter 3 of 4

Madrigal pushed ahead of the clans, following the broken ferns and torn earth. The trail bent deeper into the trees, toward the heart of the forest she had stayed for. Then a small, sharp figure stepped onto the path and threw up both hands. Winter Flint planted her boots in the dirt and would not move. "Stop," she said. "You cannot drive it deeper. Not toward the old one." Madrigal halted. The hunt halted behind her. The forest held its breath. Winter pointed back through the trees. A small house sat tucked into the roots of a wide trunk, lanterns burning at its door. "I have set my line from there," she said. "Ropes. Bells. Markers strung between the trunks." Madrigal drifted past her and saw them — small carved pendants hung on cord, each one shaped like an oak in full leaf, swaying between the trees in a long curving wall. The line bent the creature's path east, away from the deep woods. Madrigal's hand went to the carved amulet she wore at her chest, the one shaped like the tree she had loved before she knew what love was. She felt the truth of Winter's plan settle in her like a cold stone. Drive the creature deeper and it would tear through the oldest roots before nightfall. Turn it east, and the old one stood another day. "Call them back," Madrigal said to the clans behind her. The elf with the staff lowered his weapon. The sprite and the gnome stopped. "We turn it," Madrigal said. "We do not chase." Winter nodded once and ran for her door, already shouting orders to the hidden watchers along the line. Madrigal watched the markers sway in the dim light. The hunt was no longer a chase. It was a wall. And somewhere in the brush ahead, the creature struck the first cord and the bells began to ring.