Moonfall | Book Two

CHAPTER 4

Getting out of the Woodlands became harder than getting in.

As hard as Michael tried to retrace his steps or look for any sign of familiarity, the throbbing in his head made it difficult. That, and the fact that, to him, all trees looked the same in the dark.

Not that trying to navigate in broad daylight had been any easier.

Apart from his footsteps and rustle of the trees whenever the wind blew, the forest was eerily silent. If he had not been in a hurry, he might have stolen a minute to appreciate the beauty of the moonlit Woodlands. The harder he tried to focus, the more he lost it and his patience. He had no way of knowing if he was getting any closer to exiting the Woodlands, or only driving himself deeper inside.

He sighed, certain this was exactly why he had been warned against being alone in the Woodlands at night.

After tripping over a fallen branch, Michael used the trunk of a tree to catch his fall. When his hand—still covered in the blood from his head wound—came into contact with it, he heard what could only be described as a hum. At first, it was nothing more than a whisper, so silent he thought he was imagining it until it became louder. The trees surrounding him began to sway, but the wind was far too faint to be the cause.

Suddenly, he not only heard the hum but felt it. First, it felt like the gentle sway when floating on water. Then, like a slow rumble of a beating drum. As if he was being pulled by an invisible force, Michael started walking. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of two large oak trees—one on the left, the other on the right, with about twenty feet of distance between them.

When the humming stopped, he stopped, too. In the center of the space between the oak trees, a white light appeared, and—like a candle flame—began to flicker. Within seconds, the tiny flicker began to dart back and forth between the oak trees, growing larger with each pass. Then, the light stopped in the same spot where it first appeared, and, as if an invisible curtain was slowly being drawn, the space between the two trees began to morph into some sort of door.

Michael did not know where to settle his eyes, as he was in complete awe of the sight before him. The door was the colour of gold, riddled with intricate white designs and symbols he had never seen before.

He took a step towards it, and lifted a hand to touch it. To confirm if what he was seeing was truly real, or if he had hit his head harder than he thought and was hallucinating the entire scene before him. When he was close to touching the golden door, he heard a snap of a branch from behind. The sound had caught his attention, but it was what followed that alarmed him.

"You should not be here."

The hairs on the back of Michael's neck stood up. Of all the things he expected, hearing a female voice had certainly not been one of them. And when he turned, he certainly had not expected to see a hooded, cloaked figure about thirty feet away with a bow and arrow pointed at him.

He knew right away she was neither wolf nor human, but the alternative was impossible. Yet, one look in her direction proved the impossible was very much possible.

She was Fae.

When his heart began to race, his hands clenched into a fist and the thoughts racing through his mind neither slowed nor stopped.

This cannot be real.

They are supposed to be gone.

Why was she here?

Was she alone?

Have they come back?

Is this an attack?