The Girl and the Grove

“Thank you,” Leila said, trying to relax, but feeling her breath pick up. There was that scent again, the sandalwood and sawdust, the earth and the trees, like someone who had sat around a campfire far too long after spending the day in the woodshop.

“Can you, um, take me to this grove?” Leila asked, reluctantly pushing herself away from him, taking a deep breath. “That’s, uh, that’s what she seems to want.”

“Sure, yeah,” Landon said, stepping back, nodding his head a little too much. Leila tried not to smile as he looked up at her awkwardly and cleared his throat. “But look, is it, like, safe? All this? And with your head all bumped up?”

“I think so.” Leila shrugged. “I can’t say, not really. I’ve been dealing with this all my life, you know. It’s not like I hit my head after seeing you with the owl and suddenly lost my mind and started hearing voices, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Whoa, no,” Landon said, holding his hands up. “Not at all. It’s just, it looks like it’s taking a toll on you, is all.”

“I’m ready for some answers,” Leila said resolutely. “Let’s go.”

As they rounded the corner of the dilapidated mansion Leila fought the urge to gasp. The space opened up into a garden that had certainly seen better days, but evidence of its former glory was evident. A cobblestone walkway covered in ivy, moss, and leaves rounded from the back of the old home and through overgrown hedges and trees. Thick columns jutted out here and there amidst the shrubbery, some kind of sculpture or landmark. A small stone wall made its way all around the garden, circling the overgrown plants, low to the ground and gray like the house’s old granite. There were spaces in the concrete between the stones, faded from age and weather, where ivy had found a grip.

“Ah,” Landon said, nodding his head in the direction of some trees. “I think we’re almost there. You sure this is okay?”

“You can stop asking that,” Leila said. “I’m not okay, but I’m going anyway.”

The end of the garden announced itself, not just with a waist-high wrought-iron gate that was rusted and hanging off a hinge, or with the wall of stones that led away from it and connected with the rest of the crumbling bits. But instead, the edge revealed itself with how the brush and trees had simply overtaken everything around them. Landon pushed the gate open with a loud squeak, the bars groaning against the rust and the rock, and looked up at the trees with Leila.

“You can’t even see the canopy,” he said, taking a step into what felt like untamed wilderness. “But this is where the grove is, see?” He pointed down at the ground, where some of the cobblestones still pushed their way through the soil and earth, popping up in-between brush and fallen branches. “There’s still a path here, leading in there.”

He pointed into the trees.

Leila squinted. It didn’t look like any light from the sun got through this brush, and the leaves of every tree looked almost unnaturally thick. How was this still inside the city park? Landon let go of her hand and grabbed Milford, who then perched on his forearm, which Landon in turn kept close to his chest.

“Sorry, I don’t want him, like, getting knocked over while we’re pushing through here,” Landon said, an apologetic look on his face.

“It’s okay,” Leila said, grinning at him. “It’s just the second time you’ve chosen your owl over me.”

“Oh, come on, that’s not fair,” Landon said, a small smirk on his face.

“It is what it is,” Leila shrugged, as Landon moved forward. She felt for her phone in her pants pocket, thinking of sending Sarika an update, and stopped as Landon walked forward through the thick trees. There was no way she could text and walk through all this at the same time. She’d have to dish later, particularly after they finally reached the place where the voices supposedly were telling her to go.

They walked slowly through the underbrush and in-between the trees, with Landon’s owl remaining strangely silent through the ordeal. And it wasn’t just his owl. The sounds of the birds in the trees or skittering squirrels in the brush were gone, replaced with the crunch of their feet against the ground.

“I think I see a clearing,” Leila said, squinting in the darkening woods. “Up there?”

“That would be the grove,” Landon said, turning to look at her with a grin. “It’s really lovely.” His expression soured and he shook his head, looking back forward. “I can’t believe they want to get rid of all this.”

Not too far away, a bit of golden light seemed to be breaking through some of the trees, like a wide opening was hollowed out in the middle to allow the sun to pour into one place. As they drew closer, the yellow, bright crack grew wider. Leila squinted as the opening grew near, and the sunbeams were almost blinding after all the dark shade. She stepped out of the woods and into the grove just as Landon placed Milford on his shoulder and once more took her hand.

The grove spread out over what looked like at least an acre of land. Several tall oak trees grew along the edges of the grove, opposite where she and Landon had walked in. Their trunks were thick and enormous, centuries old, if not more.

And in the middle of the grove a ring of stone, similar to the ones around the garden, circled three smaller oak trees. But unlike the tall ones that stood around the end of the grove, these three were smaller, thinner.

“That’s weird,” Leila said, nodding at the trees in the circle.

“What is?”

“Well, I mean, you said this place has been abandoned for a long time, right?” Leila asked, taking a step towards the ring of stone and the thinner, younger-looking trees. “Then why do those look like they were maybe planted, what, two decades ago? If that? And those guys, those huge ones on the border, have to be older than the mansion.”

“I don’t quite see what you’re getting at,” Landon said, shrugging and walking with her. “It’s a grove. Someone back in the day likely planted it to use as a little getaway. A hidden garden.”

Leila walked forward, looking at the trees and the ring, trying to figure it all out. She spun around.

“But even if it was planted way back when, and even if you and your—as the voice likes to say—brothers have been trimming things once in a while, this is like, immaculate. Someone has been taking care of all this,” she said, gesturing to the trees and the ring. “Those trees in the center of the grove should be huge, not pruned down like that. If it isn’t you or one of the other rangers, then who is taking the time to keep all this up, especially if no one is visiting this place?”

Leila.

Leila groaned and dropped to the ground. The soil here was soft, pliable, unlike anything near the shattered house she’d walked with Landon from. She could feel her knees sinking into it, her hands against it, soft and cushioned. Almost as though she belonged there, planted with the trees. The grass under her hands felt as though it was moving, tickling against her palms and fingers.

I am glad you are here.

“Landon,” Leila muttered, looking up at him, lifting a hand to her pounding head. He was frozen in place, his mouth open and eyes wide.

We are glad you are here.

“Landon?” Leila asked, moving to stand.

“Don’t!” Landon shouted, lifting a hand up. “Don’t move a muscle, don’t move anything, just . . . just stay there.” He started taking steps towards her with his hands outstretched, his body hunched low to the ground as he walked.

“What is it?” Leila asked, moving to turn around.

“No, stop!” Landon yelled. He reached for his walkie-

talkie, and his shaking hands fumbled with it. The small black plastic device tumbled out of his hands and crashed against one of the granite stones, and pieces broke off instantly. With that, Milford hopped off his shoulder and onto the ground, flapping his one wing wildly as he made his clumsy decent to the earth. “No, Mil—” Landon started, moving to scoop up the owl, and then he turned back to Leila. He shook his head and walked towards her, still crouching.

Leila’s heart pounded in her chest.

Whatever it was, it had been enough for Landon to ignore the owl.

Leila turned around.

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