A Boy Named Alice

Chapter Six

"Why is it always dark here?"

"The dead don't need light."

"Oh." I scrunched up my nose. "Then how does anything grow?"

"All the forest is a part of the Dead Woods," Toady said. "Anything else grows because of magic."

Nearly invisible lips stretched wide. Wrinkles deepened in the corners of his cheeks, and his round eyes brightened.

"Really?"

Toady laughed, dry and raspy. "Yes. The Live Ones taught me a few spells. They said it put the sun in the soil. It fools the plants, and they grow."

"What about the rain?" I asked, wiping a stray drop from my forehead.

"The Guardians and the Keepers called it here so they'd have safe water to drink, and to grow their food." He pushed a branch out of the way, and I ducked under.

"There's water here?"

"Yes," Toady said. "But it can take away who a Live One is, so it's best if ya' stay away from it."

"Okay," I said.

"What do you see?" Toady asked, sweeping a long arm in a wide arc.

"It's just a bunch of trees and rocks." I frowned. "Why?"

Toady nodded. "That is what the Dead Woods wishes ya' to see. Tis' easy to confuse when it all looks the same."

He turned to place his hands on my shoulders, cool weights and gentle, grounding force.

"Close your eyes."

I took a deep breath and obeyed. "Now what?"

"Ya' listen," Toady said.

My face scrunched up. "I don't hear anything."

Toady gave my shoulders a squeeze. "Focus on hearing only. Block out everything else."

The snort tumbled out and I opened my eyes. "What next, are you gonna teach me yoga poses?"

"What is yoga?" He frowned and tilted his head, wispy hair flopping over large ears.

Sheryl had once tried to teach me yoga, to breathe in and out, and focus on the movement of my body. I'd gotten bored five minutes into the lesson. She'd released me after ten.

I shook my head and the memory scattered. "It's nothing. So, how am I supposed to do that?"

Thin lips pulled in a smile, Toady shook his head. "Ya' need to close your eyes."

I closed my eyes again and breathed deep.

"Tell Ol'Toady what you hear."

"The leaves?" My shoulders hunched up to my ears and I shifted.

"What else?"

"Um...water dripping?" I wiped cold drops from my nose.

"And?"

"I don't know." I jerked back and crossed my arms, hunching forward. I headed back towards the house, rain dampening my hair. "This is stupid."

"AJ." Toady tugged and I turned. Mud showed the outline of my shoes, a misshapen oval, and squiggly lines bisecting the print. I dragged the toe through the image, smearing it into a muddy streak.

"I can't do this."

"Yes, ya' can." One knobby finger gently knocked against my chin, cool and damp with the humidity in the air. "It takes practice."