His hand fell from her shoulder and he nudged his cob on. He spared Elora a glance, a slight shake of the head. “We keep moving.”
She understood. You can’t save them one at a time, a lesson she’d learned the hard way in the plane wreckage. Her heels touched Daisy’s flank and the mare walked on, tears forming in Elora’s eyes as she put her back to the sobs of the mother that they left beside the woods.
By the time they’d descended to the bottom of the lane the sobs were out of earshot, the farm out of sight although Elora heard them in sharp clarity, heaving in her heart. What that poor mother must be going through.
Several strides later and Elora let go of the reins; her arms falling by her side, head tilting forwards. Daisy slowed then stopped, the other horses plodding on unaware that she no longer followed.
To hell with them, she thought.
Elora gathered up the reins, turned the mare around and kicked her on. The horse responded without hesitation, racing into full gallop, hooves slamming into the worn tarmac as she charged back towards the farmhouse, her long white mane swaying behind her and whipping Elora in the face.
She found the mother where they had left her, weeping in the road, baby clutched tight in her arms. At Elora’s approach she lifted her head, hope written in her face.
“Thank you, thank you,” she cried, as Elora jumped down and tied Daisy to the nearest tree.
“Stay here, don’t follow me in,” she said to the mother, as she ran between the trees.
There was a wrongness to the woods that Elora couldn’t put words to. Maybe it was the lack of noise, the stillness in a place that should be teeming with wildlife, or the cold air that seeped into her, making her breath visible. Or maybe it was the realisation that the deeper she went the darker the woods became; but not because of the canopy blotting out the sun; it was more like the light itself pulled back, too timid to penetrate to the soft earthy floor.
“Danny?” she yelled, remembering the boy’s name. “Danny? Your mother wants you home.” There was no echo to her voice, as if the thick oaks and elms soaked it up. “Danny?” she screamed.
Her foot suddenly caught beneath thick bramble and tugged at her ankles, she had just enough time to raise her hand and prevent her face being pricked by a thorn bush.
As she scrambled back to her feet she heard a childish giggling.
“Danny is that you?” she asked, pulling a thorn from her palm, the puncture wound flamed for a heartbeat before healing up. She doubted she would ever get used to that.
Giggling again. Elora marched through the thick foliage in the direction it came from. She pushed away sticky ivy that had somehow grown between the trees, forming dark green curtains, and stumbled into a clearing.
A small boy sat at the centre, rolling a bright red ball into a black space in front of him. The space was a strange phenomenon. Filling the gap between an elm, its roots and a branch that had fallen against the trees trunk, forming a triangle.
She watched as the ball rolled into the black triangle and disappeared, a moment later it rolled back out again as if somebody from within the inky darkness was playing a game with the boy, who laughed and clapped his hands as the ball reappeared.
“Danny,” Elora offered stepping closer. The boy turned his head, his plump little face staring in puzzlement. “Danny, come with me. Your mother’s been worried about you.”
Danny looked at the hand she offered him and shook his head.
“You have funny eyes,” he said, pointing a chubby little finger at her face.
“It is dangerous here, Danny. Come with me and we’ll go to your mother together.”
“No,” he said, folding his arms and frowning, lips drawn tight in the determined way of a five-year old.
A large green hand, ending with sharp yellow claws, extended out of the black triangle. It turned over, index finger curling, enticing the boy nearer. Danny watched, his face full of wonder and began to shuffle closer, the hand slowly drawing back as the boy neared.
“Danny, no!” Elora shouted, dashing towards the boy. She grasped his arm and pulled him into her as the green hand shot out and grabbed his other and yanked back.
Danny screamed in fright as she spun away from the dark space, lashing out with her foot and kicking the thick arm attached to the boy’s other hand. It let go and she fell to the soft earth hugging the boy close. He cried into her shoulder as she scurried away from the blackness.
A heavily muscled arm re-emerged from the blackness, then a meaty shoulder followed by a huge head. Small red eyes stared down a pig-like snout, large tusks jutted upwards from its mouth like that of a wild boar.
Elora put her arm around Danny, preventing him from seeing the monster.
“Stop, you stupid oaf,” came a voice, echoing around the clearing.
A creature stepped barefoot from around an oak. He was old, skin loose and sagging, maybe a foot shorter than herself and dressed in torn britches and a black tattered waistcoat. “Grimbles can’t fit in the upsies, stupid oaf. You will break the gate.”
The boar-like monster halted and gingerly craned his head about to inspect the branch that formed part of the triangle. Seeing that it was undisturbed he relaxed, letting out a breath but advanced no further.
“Go back into the downsies, stupid oaf. You can’t be in both the upsies and the downsies or you’ll find that you’ll be split asunder. Stupid oaf,” continued the little spindly man who moved far too fast for something looking as old as he did.
“She took my dinner,” replied the oaf, his voice sounding so deep Elora could feel it rattling inside her chest.
“Nope, nope. Little girl is your dinner, stupid oaf. The boy is for this grumpkins. Sweet little boy likes to play with grumpkins,” said the man padding closer to them.
“Leave us alone,” growled Elora, clambering to her feet and clutching the boy.
“The girl is sour. I want the boy, sweet young and juicy,” boomed the boar’s head.
The old man skipped forwards like a child and slapped the beast around his head. “Stupid oaf. This grumpkins tells you what’s you having. Grumpkins in the upsies, you should be remembering, stupid oaf. The boy is for this grumpkins; the girl is for you.”
Elora carefully crept back, placing her feet down gently so as not to make a sound as the two creatures argued over which of them they wanted to eat.
“Elora?” She heard the Shadojak shout, causing the argument to stop and attention brought back to her and Danny.
“We’re here, Diagus. Over here,” she shouted, feeling grateful that he had come back for her.
“Elora?” came his voice once more, sounding a little further away. He hadn’t heard her.
