A Ruin of Roses (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 1)

I cut through the back gardens of two cottages, scaling the fences, and approached the edge of the Forbidden Wood. A patch of goat-trimmed land was all that separated me from it. Weeds crawled toward the perimeter…and then wilted and died. Ghostly trunks rose on the edge, twisted branches reaching for the village. Beyond lay shadowy depths, sliced through with moonlight under the star-flecked sky.

I cleared my mind of the stakes. Pushed away the image of Father’s sickbed. Tossed aside the worry in Hannon’s eyes and the feel of Sable and Dash clinging to me when I hugged them goodbye, hopefully not for the last time. Right now, it was just me and these woods. Me and the creatures that lurked within their deteriorating depths. Me and the beast, if it came to it.

I would not let my father down. I would not fail him.

The edge of my dagger slid against the hard leather of its sheath hanging from my hip. I stepped lightly and carefully, aiming for springing ground and avoiding anything that might snap or crinkle. It was easy now, still in the village. Once I passed that tree line, it would be a whole lot harder. A whole lot deadlier.

Not a sound vibrated through the air. No wind stirred the frostbitten branches or boughs. My breath puffed white. I noticed every little detail of my surroundings. I was the prey, and I did not want to tango with the hunter.

The air cooled as I crossed the threshold. I stilled and took a deep breath. Panic would get me dead. I needed to keep a level head.

Onward I went with watchful eyes. I needed to pay attention to any movement. Any change in scent or sound.

I remembered a time, before the curse, when the Forbidden Wood had been lovely. Green and lush. Now, though, the brittle grasses crackled under my worn boots. The bark felt flaky under my fingers. No leaves graced the branches, even of the evergreen trees, and no flowers adorned the winter budding plants.

Up ahead, around a large pine scantily clad with needles, I spotted it—a birch that didn’t seem to fit in with its peers. Just behind it was my destination.

The everlass field had been less than half its current size when I first found it. It had grown over the years, not that it really mattered. I could only use what I could steal, and I didn’t dare do that often.

Crack.

Adrenaline dumped into my bloodstream. I froze with my hands out like an idiot, as though ready for actual flight. I might have courage, but I clearly wasn’t cool when handling danger.

That had sounded like a twig snapping.

With bated breath, I waited for something to happen. Then waited some more—watching for movement, listening for sounds. Nothing.

Letting out a shaky breath, I continued on. The shapes of trees shifted around me, crawling across the star-speckled blackness above. A creature shrieked distantly on my left. The sound spread through the air before trailing away, like ripples in a pond. My heart sped up, but the sound was too far away to worry me at the moment. Hopefully the creature would keep screeching so I could track its travel route.

A horrible scream rent the air, also distant. It sounded like a human in peril, being eaten alive or gruesomely tortured, or a man with a paper cut on his finger. It was intense distress, in other words, needing help immediately, or death might ensue.

Nice try, fucker.

I’d heard that creature before. I’d actually even seen it as I was panic-sprinting home one time. Its goal was to lure do-gooders. People came to help, and it killed them.

Or that was how it clearly thought its ruse would go. Except all knew that in the Forbidden Wood, it was everyone for themselves. There were no do-gooders here. That thing could go on screaming for all I cared. That would at least prevent it from sneaking up on me.

The birch was close now, rising stoically.

Its branches shivered dramatically, as though it were cold.

I froze again, and suddenly wondered why I always shoved my arms out like some sort of confused dancer when I freaked out…

But seriously, why in the goddess’s secret cupboard was the tree shivering? That hadn’t happened before. I’d passed this tree every time I came to this field, and it had never moved because of anything but the wind.

This is a shit time for a tree to be doing the jig, folks, I thought to the invisible audience watching my adventure. It was something I’d been doing since I was little, and I hadn’t given up the habit at twenty-three. Back in the day I’d done it because I was pretending to be a jester or a queen, but now I did it out of comfort. And eccentricity, I supposed.