—
A formation of planes whizzed past, startling me out of my reverie. Meg had told me that “our own fellows” flew by all the time, and that there was nothing to worry about unless the siren was blaring. Nonetheless, it shattered what was left of my nerves.
I walked to the field of white ponies, who once again approached the fence to see if I had anything for them. I unwrapped my sandwich and offered up tiny pieces of crust, but they yanked their heads back in disgust. Realizing that I’d just tried to feed them part of a meat sandwich, I murmured helpless apologies and then ate the crusts myself. Moments later, I devoured the whole thing.
When I passed the graveyard, a single crow appeared overhead, circling and cawing as though it had a personal grievance. It also seemed to be following me. Certainly it was still above me when I reached the entrance to the Cover, and I ducked down the wooded path simply to get away from it. I hadn’t gone far before realizing I was being ridiculous, and stopped to get my bearings.
The trees and vegetation were dense, and the ground squelched beneath my feet. I was surrounded by the sound of rushing water, and although the trees were leafless, everything around me was iridescent green, verdant even, with moss clinging to the ground and fallen trunks, and dangling in lacy tangles from branches.
The forest floor was dotted with beautiful toadstools. They were tiny and shaped like chalices, their outsides an unremarkable fawn, but their interiors were the most spectacular scarlet I’d ever seen. I picked a few and put them in my pocket. As I did so, I found the compass. It was all I could do to not throw it into the trees.
Before long, I came upon a fast-moving river and followed the path beside it. When it veered sharply to the right, I realized that by ducking and dodging, I could see the loch through the trees.
To get closer, I would have had to cross a stream that was feeding the river. There were stones suitably spaced, but I imagined myself slipping, breaking an ankle, and not being found for days, which was entirely possible if Ellis’s and Hank’s hangovers lasted more than a day, or if the “hair of the dog” turned into another bender.
The idea of not being found swelled into a frenzied panic when, after forty minutes of trying to find my way out, I realized I was going in circles.
I switched directions. I took different paths. I went back to the loch and used the compass to try to figure out which direction the village was, but the paths were hopelessly twisted and there turned out to be multiple rivers. I was Gretel, on my own, and it was too late to start dropping crumbs, because I’d eaten them.
Maybe Mr. Ross or Meg would notice if I didn’t show up for dinner—or maybe they’d just assume I was sleeping one off, like Ellis and Hank. Even if they noticed I was gone, they’d have no idea where to start looking.
What kind of an idiot wanders blithely into a forest?
I was about to sit on a log and cry when I caught sight through the trees of a woman kneeling on the opposite side of the river. She was washing what looked like a rust-stained shirt, rubbing it against a large upright stone. Her hair was tied in a kerchief and her clothes were old-fashioned—a long green skirt made of rough cloth, an apron, and worn brown boots that went up past her ankles.
“Excuse me! Hello!” I cried, stumbling forward.
She stopped scrubbing and looked at me. Her eyes glistened with tears, and when she blinked, a single drop fell into the river. Her lips were slightly parted, exposing a snaggletooth. The whole effect startled me, bringing me to a temporary stop, but soon I was staggering around the winding path, hands on tree trunks, trying to get closer to her.
“Hello! Ma’am? Excuse me! I’m sorry to intrude, but can you please tell me…”
My voice trailed off when I came around a bend that should have put me directly across from her. She wasn’t there.
I scanned the bank quickly, confirming by the uniquely shaped rock that this was indeed where she’d been. I looked around desperately, listening for the sound of footsteps or crackling branches. There was no sign of her, yet I couldn’t figure out where she could possibly have gone, or what I had done to make her flee. It was as though she’d simply vanished.
“Please come back!” I shouted, but the only answer was the sound of rushing water and the cawing of the crow, which was still somewhere above me.
“I’m lost! Please!” I yelled one last time, before sinking to my knees and bursting into tears. I stayed like that for about ten minutes, sobbing like a child.
Eventually, I pulled myself together. I got up, wiped my face with the backs of my gloves, and brushed off my coat, which was muddied from kneeling. Then I straightened my scarf and staggered forward, using the umbrella as a walking stick.