The smell of smoke stopped me in my tracks and set my heart to hammering. I crept forward, down the twisting road and just past a gnarled tree.
A small, thatch-roofed house greeted me. Smoke drifted from the chimney. A vegetable garden stretched out along the side of the house. Tiny prickles of cold sweat slid down my face, mingling with the dripping rain.
Breathing hurt and air came in shallow burst.
It all looked so normal, a scene out of one of the old movies Dad had sometimes liked to watch. I'd seen enough horror movies, and read enough comics. Sometimes, the ordinary looking house was the scariest. Visions of grisly murders and blood soaked floors threatened to rise.
I swallowed around the tightness in my throat and called out.
"Hello?" The shadows swallowed up my words and carried them off. Slight tremors shook my hands.
"Is anybody home?" I said, a bit louder this time.
Plants rustled, and leaves fluttered to the ground. A familiar form, tall, thin, with knobby joints and round eyes, detached from the dark and came forward. Toady grinned, bright and cheerful, and bounded over.
His wispy hair hung in wet tangles and torn leaves dotted his jacket. Mud highlighted the wrinkles in his paper-thin skin and caked around his fingernails.
"Well," Toady said, voice ringing through the forest. "If it ain't my good friend...What is your name?"
"AJ."
"AJ!" Toady said. Then he frowned. "That is a bit of an odd name. What does AJ mean? Why didn't your parents add more letters?"
"It doesn't mean anything, it's just my first name." I didn't want to explain the oddity of being named Alice.
"Tis odd, but okay. AJ it is then," Toady said and he placed a thin hand on my shoulder. "Come along. Ya' must've traveled far to reach here and Ol'Toady is sure you're tired."
"I took the road you showed me."
Toady nodded as he led me towards the house. "It was definitely a long way. It's such a twisty road that one. It takes ya' further than ya' know, but AJ will figure the Dead Woods' secret out soon enough. All it takes is practice."
He opened the roughened wood door and ushered me over to a table. My shoes squelched with each step, and cold water soaked into already frozen toes. A trail of small muddy shoe prints lead from the door to the table.
"Here, have a seat. It's not often Ol'Toady gets visitors."
"This is your house?" I asked, settling into the chair. My backpack slumped on the floor at my feet.
The weirdness of the whole situation refused to settle. Monsters didn't have houses. They didn't have beds and dressers. They didn't have tables for guest, or books on a shelf. They lurked in dark places waiting to eat people. That's what all the comics and movies always said.
"Yup," Toady said. "I built the house myself, though I had help with the furnishings."
He placed a cup in front of me and filled it with water. "Now drink up. You're thirsty, O'Toady can tell. You Live Ones always get a flushed look about ya' when ya' haven't had enough to drink."
"Thank you," I said.
The tremors increased, my palms becoming slippery. I wiped them on my jeans, and took a deep breath. The feel of the denim was familiar, a small bit of home that grounded me. I waited a beat longer, and reached for the glass.
It was cool in my hand and the water gave off no odor. It even looked like clean water. I took a cautious sip and cool liquid ran down my throat. I waited a few seconds and nothing happened. I upended the glass then, draining every bit of liquid from it.
"Whoa," Toady said, scrambling to take the glass from me. "There is plenty to go around. No reason to make yourself sick."
A deep blush crept up my cheeks. Monsters didn't care about their guest's health either.
Toady smiled. "Here, have some more, but do it slowly. I wouldn't want ya' to get all shriveled. You being alive and all, ya' wouldn't look near as good as Ol'Toady does."
He placed the glass before me again, the water at the brim. I bent over and took small sips empting it bit by bit before I could lift the glass without spilling.
My thoughts cleared and tension behind my eyes drifted free. Breathing was easier, and I drooped into the seat.
Toady put the pitcher down and went to the fireplace. He added two more logs to the fire, picking up a long thin piece of wood to stoke up sparks from the coals.
Tiny orange flames peeked out from under the coals and climbed the side of the logs. The cold air took on a hint of warmth, the room brightening, and dancing light waltzed with flickering shadows.
My shivering picked up, damp clothes leeching away the heat the fire provided.
"So, AJ," Toady said, sitting down across from me. "Did ya' like your water?"
"It was nice," I said, offering a tired smile.
Toady reached over and patted my hand. The brittle texture of his skin rough and cool, like fall leaves that coated the front yard every year. I managed not to flinch from the touch, though from the look Toady gave me, I hadn't concealed my reaction as well as I'd have liked.
"Poor, Little Friend," Toady said, moving his hand back to rest before him. "It's tough not knowing the Dead Woods' secrets. I'll have to teach ya' some of them when ya' feel better."
Tears pooled in my eyes, and I hurriedly looked down. Crying was for babies and I'd wasted enough time on tears already.
"I don't want to be here," I whispered. The words trembled and fell into the space between us, brittle, tiny things, as lonely and lost as I was.
He tilted his head, and rested his head in his palm. "Then why did ya' come here?"
"I didn't," I said. "I got lost on my way to the bus station."
"Was there no other way you could go?"
I kept my eyes on the table.
"Oh," Toady said. "Ya' wanted to leave."
"It wasn't like that." I fiddled with the cup. "We're moving, to a whole different country, and Mom and Sheryl didn't ask how I felt about it. They should have asked." I laid my head down. A shuddering breath broke free and tears spilled on the table. "They should have asked."
"Somehow Ol'Toady thinks AJ is upset over more than just moving."
I wiped my eyes on my arm and turned my head to face the door. The house was simple, the door just a rectangle with a latch, the floor nothing more than smooth packed dirt. But it was a home, one Toady took pride in, and it held more life than my own.
"My dad is gone."
I almost didn't get the words out. The empty space at my side pressed in, aching. Grief had ripped out a part of my soul and tossed it away. Dad was supposed to always be there.
Toady's gaze softened. "He died."
I nodded, my lips pressed together, insides burning.
"And now there's no one for me to talk to." I rubbed my nose and tried to breathe past the weight crowding my chest. "Mom doesn't get it. She doesn't listen, and Sheryl's always on her side."
"I see why you're here." Toady reached out and laid a hand on my arm. There was no heat from his skin, just the weight of his fingers pressing down. "The Dead Woods likes to take those who are lost."
"I only got lost because of the stupid Dead Woods." I jerked my arm back and wiped at my nose.
"There is more than one way to be lost."
My vision blurred and my throat ached. I just wanted to feel the ground beneath my feet again, but my heart was still screaming. Dad was gone.
"Why can't it be like before?"
"Life is a constant change." Toady folded his hands, resting them on the table. "If it stayed the same," Toady paused to choose his words, "then we would not get to see new things. It sounds like ya' will be going on a great adventure when ya' get home." Toady got a far off look in his overly round eyes. "Ol'Toady would like to see more than just the Dead Woods."
"I want to go home." I rubbed my eyes and yawned.
He gave a soft smile and refilled my cup. "I can see ya' have had a tough time. Ya' can stay here, get your rest for a few days, and then we can head off towards the Archive and get ya' home."
"But I've already been gone too long," I said. "They've probably called the police again..." My chest jerked and stuttered, breath caught in my throat.
"Don't worry, AJ," Toady said. "Time is just as twisty here as the paths. It loops in on itself, never truly passing."
"So, I could still get to my grandparents?" I asked.
"Tis possible," Toady said, "but enough for now. It's best to make such decisions with a clear head."
I yawned again, the weariness of the last few days hitting me and I wanted nothing more than for everything to go back to the way it used to be. I'd go home, and Dad would be there, waiting to take me out on a new hiking trail.
Mom would be in the kitchen, a fond smile on her face, Sheryl by her side, hair a bright pink and a stack of comics before her, ready to go over the glossy pages with me. I didn't even care if they yelled at me for running away. I just missed my family, but Dad was gone, and we were moving.
Everything was different, a twisted path filled with thorns and sharp rocks, and no one to help me navigate it.
"It's not fair." I wiped my cheeks, movements jerky and rough. "He was there, and then he wasn't, and it's not fair."
Toady was quiet, still, a searching look peering into my soul. I huddled down, fighting back another yawn.
"Why couldn't he just stay?" I lowered my head, and clamped down on a scream.
Spindly arms wrapped around me, and pulled me close. I gripped Toady's jacket and cried into dusty wool.
"AJ has been through a lot." Toady rubbed my back, thin, fine hair tickly my cheek.
"I want to go home," I whispered, though home was nothing but a faded memory.
"Ol'Toady can't grant that wish," he said. His chest was still and silent, no warmth spread from his body to mine. I shivered and Toady gave a gentle squeeze before stepping back.
He knelt down so that he was eye level. "But I can help ya' get out of the Dead Woods."
"Thank you."
"Come, AJ," Toady said, standing. "Ya' can use the bed. I only use it for reading anyway."
It was the width of a twin sized bed, but long enough to accommodate Toady's height. He pulled back the covers, and after I removed my shoes, I crawled between the clean sheets. They smelled like grass, wind, and dust. They smelled like Toady.