Wildwood (Wildwood Chronicles 1)

“What’s he done?” asked Prue, dubious.

“Terrible things,” explained Alexandra. She paused, eyeing Prue quizzically, before continuing: “I know he might seem the charming rake, this so-called Bandit King, but I can assure you he is a very dangerous individual. You were lucky we found you when we did; there’s no telling what may have befallen you had you stayed in his clutches.”

“I was fine,” said Prue.

“He’s a murderer, my dear,” said the Governess, suddenly serious. “A murderer and a thief. He’s a blight on inter-Wood commerce and a plague to common goodness. An enemy of man and woman, human and animal alike. He’s caused more harm and pain in this country than any civilized person would countenance. Now that he’s behind bars, we’re all the safer for it.”

Prue chewed on this information thoughtfully; perhaps the Governess was right. She’d barely spent an hour in his company—she knew better than to jump to conclusions about people she’d met in this strange country. Her misplaced trust in the Governor-Regent had taught her that much.

“I’m just here for my brother,” said Prue finally. “I don’t want to get involved.”

Alexandra raised an eyebrow. “Your brother is here in Wildwood?”

Prue took a deep breath. The speech was beginning to feel pretty mechanical. “He was abducted. By crows. They brought him here. And I came looking for him.”

The Governess shook her head ruefully. “The crows, you say. I can tell you that the crows happen to be my next priority: bringing them in line. They’ve done some horrible, horrible things, those crows, since they broke away from their Principality.”

Prue’s face brightened slightly. “You’ve seen them? The crows?”

“Oh, we’ve seen them. Out in the woods. Like those nefarious bandits, the crows are an element in Wildwood we are trying to . . . how shall I say . . . mitigate. Like an illness. Or a particularly irritating insect. You follow?”

“I guess so,” said Prue. Her ankle burned from the weight it’d been forced to bear on the walk into the warren. A dripping noise could be heard distantly; the sound of chattering soldiers. “But my brother. Have you seen him?”

Alexandra thought for a moment before replying, “I’m very sorry to say that we haven’t. It would’ve been a notable discovery, a baby Outsider boy in Wildwood. We’ve expanded quite a bit, our humble army, and we’ve seen much of this wild country—but there is much more to cover. I imagine we’ll be running into those crows once we get closer to the Avian Principality. Perhaps we’ll—”

Prue interrupted her. “But you are near the Principality. Your soldiers are all over the border; the General said so. And we were barely into Wildwood before one of your coyotes shot us down, me and the eagle.” She was beginning to lose her train of thought. The image of her baby brother, pale and silent on a bed of moss and branches, continued to haunt her. “And now that eagle is dead. Why? Why did you have to shoot him?”

“An unfortunate casualty. Call it collateral damage.”

“I call it coldhearted.”

The Governess cleared her throat. “The rules of engagement, dear. Wildwood is a no-fly zone for military birds. It may have been sold to you as a simple ride, gratis, from a kind old buzzard, but I can assure you, more suspect intentions were at hand. Fly-bys, midnight raids, eagles and owls picking up defenseless coyote pups and dropping them to their deaths—that is the MO of the Avians. I believe it’s called cleansing in your land.”

Prue stared at the Governess. She then shook her head, her eyes cast down at her sneakers, now soiled brown with mud and dirt. “I can’t believe it,” she said under her breath.

The Governess watched Prue intently. “How old are you, dear?” she asked.

“Twelve,” said Prue, looking up.

“Twelve,” repeated Alexandra, pondering the fact. “So young.” She shifted in her throne, sitting upright. “If I may be frank: I find it incredibly admirable that you would come in here, to what must be such a strange world to you, in order to find and protect your baby brother. Very admirable for such a young lady. Your courage is uncommon. I would hate very much to be the party responsible for your brother’s kidnapping! You would prove an indefatigable foe, no doubt.” Her wandering fingers found a steady grip on the ends of the throne’s armrests. “However, a young girl as bright as you must understand the danger of becoming involved in affairs that are beyond your realm of experience. Things are rarely as simple as they appear—at first glance, a clan of bandits can seem fairly sympathetic, that whole ‘steal from the rich to give to the poor’ platitude; a colony of birds blithely ‘defending’ their border. I ask you to see the flip side of that coin: a group of bloodthirsty amoral murderers and a society bent on expanding their borders in a savage, greed-driven landgrab. Which is it?”

Prue suddenly realized this was not a rhetorical question. The Governess was waiting for her to answer.

“I . . . ,” she stumbled. “I don’t know.” Her mind churned over the events of the last few days, swimming in a haze of exhaustion, sleep deprivation, and fear. She imagined her mother and father, beside themselves with grief and worry, bereft not just of one child, but both. Her bruised rib radiated a dull pain through her chest. She looked down at her hands, at the network of lacerations that graffitied her skin, at the little dried spots of blood hardened in the crevices of her knuckles.

Alexandra moved in for the pounce.

“Dear, go home,” she intoned. She said this calmly yet forcefully, her voice betraying no emotion. “Go home to your parents. To your friends. To your bed. Go home.”

Prue stared, a tear welling in her eye. “But . . . ,” she protested. “My brother.”

Alexandra, her face softening, placed her hand to her chest. “I swear to you,” she said, “on the grave of my only son. As a woman and a mother.” Alexandra’s eyes, too, appeared to be filling with tears. “I will find your br

other. And when I do, I will charge my soldiers to return him, immediately, to your home and your family.”

Prue sniffled at a tear. Her nose was beginning to run.

“You will?” she trembled.