When darkness fell over the forest, it was unlike anything Wyatt had experienced before. The world was so still, so quiet, that it made nighttime like a thick black quilt that smothered everyone who was unfortunate enough to sit beneath it.
He'd been camping, once, at the Grand Canyon on a Brambleby school trip. It had included roasting SPAM over the fire, crude jokes, and tents that didn't quite keep the cold out.
Wyatt remembered wishing to be back home more than anything as he shivered against the uneven ground.
That trip had been a luxury compared to this.
Though the air in Gwydyr wasn't cold, it wasn't warm, either. It was tepid, like water that just felt uncomfortable to swim in.
Everyone was silent as he tried to make a fire, too shocked to speak.
After Wyatt and Marshall had come back the first time, they'd all set out together to find any way out of the forest.
Somehow, the path that always led them back to Nowhere had vanished. There was no explanation for it, but when darkness came, the fact remained that they were all trapped for the foreseeable future.
The dry wood piled together caught flame easily and for the first time, Wyatt was grateful for all the Boy Scout meetings his mother had made him attend.
Mother.
He needed to be back home to take care of her. Would Rose and Oscar be too distracted worrying about their daughters to remember her?
His heart hammered with anxiety, but he didn't voice any of his concerns because they all had the same ones. They all had loved ones that would be going out of their minds with their absence. They all needed to be back home.
Wyatt nursed the fire to life and made sure there was a steady flame before taking a seat on one of the logs they'd collected to place around the fire.
They looked at one another, wanting to say something, but not knowing what.
Ophelia had told them that they'd found Marigold somewhere in the forest, but still didn't know where. Birdie had wanted to keep trying to find her but was eventually convinced that it would be better to wait until morning.
What kind of trouble had she found? Wyatt knew he wouldn't want to be alone in this stifling darkness. Maybe she was safe in the cathedral. He hoped she was.
As if reading his mind, Birdie said, "We have to find her. I'm not going back home without her."
Wyatt didn't have a deathwish, so he didn't argue. Birdie had been in a bad mood ever since she'd found out Marshall was Sal Hickory.
"We will find her," Ophelia said comfortingly.
"We should try to get some rest," Wyatt said.
Birdie regarded the forest dismally. "Oh, I'm sure that'll be super easy. Nothing like dirt to lull you into a sound sleep."
"Birdie," Ophelia reprimanded.
"I'll take first watch," Wyatt said.
"Marshall should take first watch," Birdie replied. "The dead don't sleep anyway."
Marshall, who had been particularly quiet the whole night, sat up. Only then did Wyatt realize that he looked...thin. Not as if he weighed less, but like there wasn't as much of him as there was before.
"I...I don't know how useful I'd be," he said. He twisted his hands in his lap. "This place...I can't...I'm not myself."
Ophelia reached over and placed a hand over both of his. "Rest," she said. Birdie rolled her eyes.
They set up camp as best they could, which mainly consisted of using jackets for bedding and elbows for pillows.
Wyatt sat with his back against the log, towards the fire, staring out at the darkness. With a jolt, he realized that he hoped there would eventually be morning.
The forest had been disappearing...who knew how long it would last? And what would happen if they disappeared with it?
Everything that had happened the past day played out in his mind as he sat, listening to the blessed crackle of the fire that broke the eerie silence.
He'd decided not to awaken the sleepers and now death seemed to be following Wyatt's shadow wherever he went. There was a knot of dread that made its home in Wyatt's stomach like there was something chasing him.
Whatever happened, he knew time was short. His time was short.
An hour passed, then two. Wyatt thought he should be getting tired by now, but his mind was too heavy, and there was something about Gwydyr that made time irrelevant.
A shadow moved behind him and Birdie came to sit beside him.
For a while, they said nothing, until Birdie broke the silence.
"I feel like half of our conversations consist of me apologizing to you," she said.
"There's nothing to apologize for this time," Wyatt replied.
"I shouldn't have taken my surprise about Sal out on you."
Wyatt shrugged a shoulder. "No, but you were right."
Birdie sighed deeply, placing her fingers against her temple. "Just because you weren't as upset as I was was no reason to be rude."
"But that's the thing. I was upset."
"You were?"
Wyatt drug his hand over his face and looked up at the sky, expecting to see stars. There weren't any. "Last time we were in this forest together, you asked me if I'd wept over my father's death."
"I remember."
"I never really gave you an answer then. The truth is that I haven't. I've been angry about it...confused, maybe. And back then, I thought I just processed things differently than other people by not getting emotional or crying or yelling when something happens. But now, I wonder who I would have been in any other setting."
He mindlessly clutched his left fist. "Emptiness is all I have; it raised me as I am. And I don't know how not to feel that way."
Birdie reached over and took his hand. He shivered at her warm touch, but she didn't seem to notice.
"I remember telling you that night that there's nothing wrong with you," she said. "And I stand by it. You didn't even know half of who you were until last night and even less before you came to Nowhere. And if you don't know who you were, how would you know who you are?"
She turned to look at him, half of her face flickering in the orange light of the fire. "I guess the reason I got mad is because I want you to trust me."
Wyatt blinked. "I do trust you."
Birdie bit the corner of her cheek, thinking. "I guess what I'm saying is that you're safe with me. Your heart, your words, your emotions. I promise."
She reached out and placed her hand on his cheek and Wyatt found it difficult to breathe.
"I see the person you hide so well," she said with a small smile.
Her brown eyes were the only thing Wyatt could focus on at the moment before his gaze flickered down to her lips.
He could have kissed her then, he figured. But he forgot. He was too lost in the way she was looking at him to remember.
Something moved behind them and Wyatt tensed, but it was only Marshall shifting in his sleep.
When he looked back, Birdie had followed his attention and was glaring back at Marshall.
He gave a short laugh and shook his head. "I know how badly Sal Hickory hurt you, and I'm not saying we shouldn't be wary of him, but you've gotta cut the kid some slack, Bernadette. I don't know who he'll become, but right now he's just twitchy, innocent Marshall."
"I know," Birdie said quietly, finally tearing her gaze away from him, "but his eyes. I look into them and all I see is Sal, standing there in the newsroom, saying that I'm worthless and unlovable."
"I know that's not true."
"And yet, I think about those words more often than I want to admit. I hate the way he made me feel. Makes me feel. And then when I see Ophelia looking at him like he's a dream come true, I just want to sock him into next Tuesday."
She crossed her arms and leaned back against the log, which brought her near Wyatt's shoulder. He froze for a moment, not knowing what to do. The natural thing--the thing he'd do even if it was his own sister or friend--would be to put his arm around her. But this was Birdie Penny, so he sat with his arm awkwardly drawn to himself.
He said, "I get it. But think of Ophelia...she loves him, but she loves you too. Do you really want her to choose?"
"No," Birdie pouted. Then, reluctantly, "You're right."
"Two words I never thought I'd hear in my life."
She tossed him an unamused look. "Does this mean I have to be nice to him now?"
"Preferably."
She muttered something he couldn't quite hear, but that he assumed was an insult. Whether it was directed at him or Marshall, he didn't know.
"Why'd you decide not to awaken the sleepers?" she asked.
Wyatt had been asking himself the same thing. The truth was that he'd rather do or face anything, even death, than be apart from Bernadette Penny forever.
He said, "I just don't buy the idea that my death is fixed in stone and that the only way to avoid it is to sell my soul to a forest."
Birdie gave a halfhearted laugh. "Well, when you put it that way..."
"I have a lot to lose here," Wyatt said quietly, but Birdie didn't seem to notice the weight he carried in his words. She never did, it seemed, and Wyatt was beginning to wonder if he'd misread everything he thought was there.
"I'm glad you chose not to," she said. "Kings have changed their future more than once before."
Wyatt hoped so.
For the next few hours, they talked about everything other than Gwydyr, sleepers, and Marigold. Birdie told him about more unsolved murders, which was not his topic of choice given they were alone in the middle of the woods, and also because death was something he was actively trying to avoid thinking about, but Wyatt couldn't voice that opinion.
They talked about Brambleby and California and Nowhere's Friday night auction. About the kids in school and the old men at the farmer's market. They even talked about tomatoes and ghosts and Birdie's secret stash of poetry that she swore would never see the light of day.
And then, she was resting her head against his shoulder.
Her sentences became more slurred until they stopped altogether.
Before she fell asleep, she whispered, "I feel like Marigold's done something terrible."
And then her breathing evened out and her body went limp against Wyatt.
He put his arm around her.
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Hiiii guys! Hope this long chapter made up for my absence last week!
~What'd you think of Birdie and Wyatt's conversation?
~Do you think Birdie has any idea about Wyatt's feelings? XD
~Any other thoughts on the chapter? ^_^
Thanks so much for reading!