I’m not scared exactly, but I feel desperation seeping into my soul. When several tree roots hamper my progress even more, my frustration boils over.
‘This is freaking stupid!’ I kick at one, and only succeed in hurting my toe.
‘There’s no reason to take it out on the oak,’ a slow musical voice says.
I spin round. I can’t see a damn thing.
‘Would you like some help in getting out of here?’
I hesitate, then I stop acting like a wimp and square my shoulders. None of this is real, Zoe, I remind myself. ‘Yes,’ I say aloud.
‘Excellent. I do so enjoy helping out those in need.’
There’s an edge to the words that makes me suspicious. Before I can form the thought properly, however, a woman appears. She has jet-black hair and alabaster skin that looks as pure and smooth as a newborn baby’s. I think of my own scratched legs and freckled arms and feel very flawed. But she’s a dream woman; of course she looks perfect. Just like that man from last night looked perfect.
‘Like an airbrushed magazine picture,’ I mutter.
The woman arches an eyebrow. ‘A what?’
‘Never mind. How do I get out of here?’
She laughs. ‘Come, come! There’s no need to be so hasty. After all, we’ve not been properly introduced yet. I’m Lilith.’ She shakes her hair and it flies up in a soft halo, framing her face and mirroring the dark of the forest.
‘I’m Zoe.’ I shake my hair. It slaps me uncomfortably on the cheek before falling limply back down. Oh well.
‘And where are you from, Zoe?’
The keen interest in her gaze is making me more wary. ‘Uh, the quiet lands,’ I say.
Lilith seems confused. ‘The quiet lands? I have not heard of this place.’
‘Where are you from?’
She smiles, revealing a row of even white teeth. ‘Here, of course.’
‘And where is here?’
Lilith’s smile grows wider and an icy finger trails down my spine. This doesn’t feel right. I back away. ‘This is your first time here?’ she asks ‘No!’ I burst out. ‘It’s not! I’ve been here before.’
‘Have you indeed? So why are you lost?’
I glare at her. Lilith is not as helpful as advertised. Screw it, I don’t need her. Even if I spend the rest of the night wandering around, I’ll still wake up safe in my bed.
‘Never mind,’ I sniff. ‘I’ll find my own way out.’ I start to sidle past her but she grabs my arm. But as soon as she touches me, she pulls away as if burned. Her fingers leave an imprint on my skin.
She snarls, her perfect features growing twisted and ugly. ‘What are you?’
‘I’m Zoe.’ I try to move past her again but she blocks my path.
‘Did the Department send you?’
I stop. ‘The Department? What is the Department?’
‘Evil,’ she hisses. There’s so much venom in her tone that I step backwards.
‘But–’ I’m interrupted by a sudden long howl. I blink. ‘What the hell was that?’
Lilith’s features smooth over, as if someone’s taken an eraser and wiped them clean. ‘I must go.’ She regards me with a mixture of fear and anticipation. ‘I will see you again, Zoe from the quiet lands.’
Before I can open my mouth, Lilith vanishes. ‘Well, that was a waste of bloody time,’ I mutter.
I step carefully over the tree roots but I still stumble. My body flies forward and the ground rushes up towards me. I brace my hands to break the fall but my ribs smash hard against the ground – and then hands are helping me to my feet and I’m blinking in brilliant sunshine.
I look up. My rescuer looks like the All-American Hero with his blond hair, friendly blue eyes, chiselled jaw and glowing tan. My cheeks suddenly feel warm.
‘I shouldn’t be allowed to blush in a dream,’ I say aloud, then clamp my hand over my mouth.
He looks at me curiously. ‘You know you’re in a dream?’
I frown; the dark annoying man said something similar. ‘Yes,’ I say slowly, as the heat in my face subsides. ‘Where am I exactly?’
He steps aside, throwing out his arm with a dramatic flourish towards the scenery behind him. I see a pretty village with cobbled streets, buildings that look as if they were built several centuries before, several people milling around and, overlooking everything, a fairytale castle that would turn Walt Disney green with envy. I gape.
‘Welcome to the Dreamlands,’ he says. ‘I’m Bron.’
***
Bron leads me through several winding streets. Some of the people we pass give me curious glances, others ignore me. Given the quaint surroundings, I might have expected everyone to be wearing period dress, but most of them are dressed like anyone you’d see on the pavements of London. I spy a Metallica T-shirt, a few bohemian dresses and even a onesie. Bron is rather dapper, in an open-necked shirt and grey trousers. I’m grateful that I’m not wearing my scruffy old T-shirt. He might not be real but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to impress him.