“I see it,” he said. “The blue one. It’s beautiful.”
“In Stonehollow, the moths led me to the safety of the Dryad tree. Maybe they will this time as well. Come.”
The feelings of dread began to lessen as she followed the butterfly into the woods. They increased their pace, leaving behind the small pool and its trickling fountain, and plunged deeper into the terrain. When she ran from him before, the feelings were much more intense and ominous. The blue butterfly winged ahead of them constantly and it was easy seeing it amidst the dark browns of the tree trunks and loam. Ferns whipped at their legs as they crossed, keeping pace with the flitting spirit creature.
“Do you know about Mirrowen?” Phae asked.
“The Rikes teach that it is a superstition of the Druidecht, but some know the truth. The spirit creatures in Kenatos are all enslaved. The woods of Silvandom are said to be the last bastion of safety.” Another blue butterfly flitted from the side, joining its brother ahead. “There is another one, joining the first.”
There was no path that they followed, but the butterflies seemed to know it instinctively. The ground suddenly ended, opening to a steep decline into a broad gulch. The butterflies flitted across the open air to the other side and then landed on a tree stump, their wings opening and closing.
Shion frowned, gazing down at the steep incline and then motioned for her to stay. He started down the side of the gulch, body low and hands plunging into the muck on the side to steady himself. Tendrils of tree roots poked through the side, offering handholds. It was very deep and steep and she watched him proceed with surefooted grace. About halfway down, he motioned for her to follow.
Phae stepped down the side of the gulch too. Her boots sank into the muck as she scrabbled down, trying to keep from slipping. She was not nearly as graceful as he had been, which irked her, but she bit her lip and continued the descent. Partway down, she slipped and slid down, but he shifted his body and caught her legs, stalling the slide. She clawed through the muck with her fingers to regain control as he continued the rest of the way to the trickle of gully water at the bottom. She joined him shortly after, rinsing her muddy hands in the rank waters.
Three butterflies flitted down from above and started down the gully trail ahead of them. Their boots made sucking sounds in the muck. At some points ahead, the gulch was so narrow they had to go sideways to clear it. The dazzling butterflies were soon joined by others, both in front and behind. The muck dragged at Phae’s ankles, making it difficult to walk. Exposed roots brushed against her face and hair, causing flecks of dirt to shower over her. Rivulets of water streamed down from the top of the ridge above. The air smelled rich and spoiled, like the loam pits behind the Winemiller shed.
The ravine widened to an immense opening. It was a pit sunken into the midst of the ridge, exposing a bracken-covered pond. In the midst of the pond was an enormous tree. Instead of rustling leaves, the branches held thousands of blue butterflies, clinging to each branch and twig. It was the most beautiful sight Phae had seen in her life and she gasped. The butterflies that had thickened ahead joined the writhing mass of the tree. More came from behind, dancing in the air past them, rushing toward the tree and its enormous canopy of blue leaves.
Phae paused to catch her breath, gripping Shion’s arm. “Look at this! I’ve never seen anything like it. So beautiful.”
He said nothing, his expression impossible to read. He stared at the tree, shaking his head. His lips pursed. “I think I have been here before.”
Some butterflies left the tree, flitting before them, coaxing them forward. Phae stepped into the murk of the pond, her boot sinking into the mud, the water just below her knees. The air smelled sickly sweet.
He grabbed her wrist and jerked her back. “Wait.”
Phae struggled against his grip. “Let go of my arm. These are spirits. They want to protect us. We should go to them.”
“Look around,” he said, motioning with his other hand. “The pond is dead. Everything is decaying here. You can smell it.”
“The tree is alive,” Phae said. “Look at the leaves.”
“Those aren’t leaves,” he answered harshly. “Come out of the water.”
Phae felt the compulsion to join the tree grow stronger. “No, we will be safe there. They were warning us. The water is not deep. We can cross.”
She tried to pull away from his grip, but it tightened painfully. Anger burned inside her. She tried to pry his fingers away from her wrist. “You’re hurting me! Let go!”
“Trust me, Phae. This doesn’t feel right. There is no life here. We were lured here.”