Rooke leaned slowly forward, losing consciousness, looking as if he were about to tumble face-first into the swamp.
It’s going to drink him dry—
“Stop!” Emeline grabbed Rooke’s bony shoulder and yanked him back, away from the earth spirit. Surprised, Bog released the shiftling’s wrist. “I’ll supply the rest.”
Rooke murmured a protest, barely conscious. Emeline wiped her muddy palm on a clean patch of cardigan. Lifting the ax, she pressed its freshly sharpened edge to her skin, then pushed down and sliced hard.
Pain flashed as the blood welled up. Red and bright and glistening.
Emeline stepped to the end of the ledge and held it out for the earth spirit to take.
Bog’s cold, wet grip tightened on her arm. Emeline watched as it drew her whole hand into its dark mouth, greedily sucking. The blood rushed out of her with startling force and Emeline had to bite down on her lip to keep from crying out.
Too soon, she felt weightless. Dizzy. The woods began to spin and Emeline felt herself tip. Surely, Bog had taken enough. She was going to faint if it didn’t stop soon.
She tried to tug her wrist free, but her strength was draining away, and Bog only clasped her tighter.
Awk!
Rooke’s raven friend careened out of the trees, inky feathers winking in the starlight as it dived at the earth spirit, taking angry slashes at Bog’s muddy face with its talons.
Awk! Awk!!
Bog spit out Emeline’s hand.“Bah!”It swatted at the bird, which soared in circles, dodging the blows.
“Enough, then!” Bog grumbled.“The price is paid.”
It lowered itself back into the swamp and then pulled back its fens. The brown tepid water retreated to reveal two timber steps leading down to a rotting boardwalk. The wooden pathway curved out over the water, disappearing into the distant trees.
Still feeling light-headed, Emeline crouched to help Rooke up. Pulling the shiftling’s arm around her shoulders, she rose to her feet, bringing him with her. He was thinner and lighter than she realized, his bony frame reminding her of a bird.
He was also a bloody, muddy mess—they both were. But she’d worry about that later.
Emeline’s soggy boots squished beneath her as she slowly helped Rooke down the steps and along the rotting boardwalk. Soon, the trees crowded in close.
Hoary gray vines sagged from their branches. As Emeline ducked and batted them aside, she caught sight of Rooke’s hand, where mud and blood were already drying in the cold night air.
“Why are you helping me?” she asked.
Rooke stiffened against her. “Are you sure that’s what I’m doing?”
Despite his obvious fatigue, he pushed away from Emeline. He looked formidable, suddenly. Like something straight out of one of Tom’s stories.
“You might think differently once this night is through.”
Emeline’s footsteps slowed.What is that supposed to mean?
It didn’t matter, she decided. All that mattered was finding Pa.
They soon arrived at a particularly thick patch of vines, hung like a curtain across their path. Rooke pulled it aside and bowed his head to her.
“After you.”
When Emeline passed through, she didn’t step onto boardwalk, but flagstones. She paused, disoriented. The darkness of the woods morphed into soft, dewy lamplight and the sour-water smell of Bog was replaced by the perfumed scent of late-blooming roses.
They’d stepped out of a swamp and into … a city.
Before her lay a quiet, cobbled street lined by white rowhouses, many of them creeping with green ivy. The city stretched out, its streets rising and twisting towards the top of a lush green hill thick with trees. Emeline caught glimpses of rust-red rooftops and stone bridges over steep canals, of a white-bricked bell tower and a wide blue lake.
