Moons, comets and constel ations rippled on the surface, and other, stranger things f loated upon the misty black waters. Petals and book pages, butterf ly wings and silver medals. The hilt of a sword stuck out of the water at an odd angle, the silver blade tangled with ribbons and spiderwebs. A coffin bobbed to the surface, covered in dead lilies, before sinking into the depths once more. The debris of human imagination, f loating through the dark waters of dream and nightmare.
Swarms of fireflies and will-o’-thewisps f loated and bobbed above the waves like moving stars, adding to the confusion. This was the last familiar border of the wyldwood. Beyond the river was the Deep Wyld, the vast, uncharted territory of the Nevernever, where legends and primeval myths roamed or slept, where the darkest and most ancient creatures lurked in obscurity.
The Wolf gazed across the water, calm, unruff led, almost bored. I had the feeling he had seen the River of Dreams many times before, and wondered how far downstream he had been, if he made his home in the Deep Wyld himself.
I looked at Ariel a. “Where to now, Ari?” The lights of the river ref lected in her eyes, and will-o’-thewisps darted around her, burrowing into her hair. Standing there on the riverbank, glowing and wraithlike, she looked as insubstantial as mist. Raising a pale, delicate hand, she pointed downstream.
“We follow the river. It will take us where we need to go.”
“Into the Deep Wyld.”
“Yes.”
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“How far?” The River of Dreams supposedly ran forever; no one had ever been to the end of it, at least, no one who had survived to tell the tale.
Her eyes were as distant as the stars overhead. “Until we reach the edge of the world.”
I nodded. Whatever it took, I was ready, even if it was impossible.
“Let’s get going, then.”
A familiar gray cat sat on a barrel half-submerged in the mud at the river’s edge, lazily swatting at firef lies that bobbed overhead. As we approached, a large wooden raft, covered in algae and trailing ribbons of weed, broke from a cluster of branches and f loated toward us, unmanned. The planks were wide and sturdy, the logs holding it up thick and enormous, and it was large enough for even an enormous wolf to sit comfortably. A long wooden pole rested at the back, halfunderwater.
“Oh, hey—look at that,” Puck said cheerfully, rubbing his hands together. “Seems like the river knew we were coming. I’ll drive.” I put my arm out as he started forward. “Not a chance.”
“Psh. You never let me do anything.” The Wolf curled his lip in distaste, eyeing the raft as if it might lunge at him. “You expect to reach the End of the World on that? Do you know the things that live in the River of Dreams? And we’re not even at the nightmare stretch yet.”
“Aw, is the Big Bad Wolfie afraid of a few nasty fish?” 98/387
The Wolf gave him a baleful stare. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen some of the fish in the Deep Wyld, Goodfel ow. But more important, how will you ever reach the End of the World if I bite your head off?”
“It’s all right,” Ariel a said quietly before we could respond. “I’ve seen us…following the river to the end. This is the way we need to go.” The Wolf snorted. “Foolish,” he growled, but hopped lightly onto the wooden planks. The raft rocked under his weight, splashing water over the edge, but held. “Well?” He turned, glaring back at us. “Are we going to get this absurdity under way, or not?” I helped Ariel a into the boat, then stepped onto the platform near the back, grabbing the long wooden pole. As Puck entered, looking pens-ive, I nodded at Grimalkin, still sitting on the barrel. “You coming or not, cait sith?”
He gave the raft a dubious glance, curling his whiskers. “I suppose I must if I wish to see you to the End of the World.” Standing, he tensed his muscles to leap off the barrel, but hesitated, narrowing his eyes.
“Although, I will issue this one warning. If I end up in the river because some idiot decides to rock the boat—” He f lattened his ears at Puck, who gave him a wide-eyed look of innocence “—I know several witches who would be happy to bring down a particularly potent curse on said idiot’s head.”
“Wow, if I had a favor for every time someone said that to me…” Grimalkin did not look amused. Shooting Puck one last feline glare, he leaped to the edge of the raft, walked gracefully along the edge, and sat at the bow, facing out like a haughty figurehead. I gave the pole a push, and the raft moved smoothly into the River of Dreams, gliding toward the End of the World.
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