Lily Pondwhisper's Arc

Chapter 3 of 12

Lily left the hollow with the locket at her chest and her winged cat at her side. The path to the black lake ran long and open. The sun sank fast. She flew low over roots and moss, but her wings tired, and the light thinned to gray. She stopped on a wide leaf and looked at the darkening ground. She would never reach the water before night. Alone in the dark, so small, she would be easy prey. Her cat chirped and flew ahead. Lily followed. The little creature circled a great willow trunk. Green bugs crawled along its bark. The core was hollow, wide enough to hide in. Hanging leaves curtained the opening. "Good find," Lily said. She slipped inside and pressed her back to the soft wood. Night fell. She held the locket and made herself small and quiet. Then a shadow crossed the leaves. It was large. Wings beat slow and heavy above the willow. Lily froze. Through a gap she saw it land nearby, near a house she had not seen in the dusk. The house was tall and dark, shaped like a moth, with broad wings spread from its walls. Colored windows glowed. The thing folded its own wings and looked toward the trunk with two red eyes. Lily's breath stopped. Her cat pressed flat against her. The winged shape stepped closer. Its clawed feet crushed the moss. "Little light," it said. Its voice was low and wet. "I feel you in there." Red eyes searched the hanging leaves. Lily knew then. This was the thing the elders feared. The thing that guarded the water. She had one choice. If she ran, it would catch her in the open. If she stayed, it would reach in and take her. So she did neither yet. She cupped the locket and turned its face to a gap in the leaves. The colored house-light caught the butterfly on the metal. It flashed bright, straight into the red eyes. The creature hissed and jerked back. In that blink Lily shot from the trunk. Her cat burst out beside her, wings wide. They flew low and fast into the dark, away from the house, away from the grasping claws. Behind them the winged thing beat the air and gave chase, but the leaves and roots slowed it. Lily dove under a fallen branch and lay still. The heavy wingbeats passed over. They faded. It had lost her. When the night went quiet, Lily lifted her head. Her hands shook. She had survived the first night, but the shelter was gone, and now the guardian knew she was coming. Ahead, past the moth-shaped house, the ground sloped down. She crawled to the edge and looked. There, black and still, lay the lake. She had reached it. And something waited under the dark water, awake now, watching for her.