Paying the Piper

Twenty, Part 1: Answers to Forgotten Questions

By the time I blinked away my tears, we stood somewhere else. The hill had been changed for level ground. No bonfires lit up the area outside the woods—in fact, there was no outside of the woods. We were deep in the forest. But it was lighter than before, possibly day. The color here was off, though, so I couldn't be sure. Was it overcast or foggy or something?

Several bushy fir trees clumped in this area, doing more to fill in the gaps of the approaching winter than all the hundreds of birches, cedars, or maples. Their deep green needles added a droplet of color to an otherwise dulled palette of browns, faded yellows, and whites. Inhaling, I could smell and even slightly taste the sharp pine.

I limped through the trees as my ankle throbbed, ready to walk days in the forest again, but when I passed through the trees, I suddenly came back to the clearing where Cale stood. Frowning, I turned around and went back the other way again—there was no possible way I was going in a circle with just a few steps. But again, Cale stood there after I went through the trees.

"Take me back," I said tightly. I didn't know where we were or why, but obviously I needed his help to get out of here. And how much time had I potentially lost this time?

Cale stood there, waiting, a statue of patience apparently. "Not before you learn your past. You need to stop running." He sighed. "And I can't keep fighting you."

Finally, I stopped glowering at the woods and looked at him. Really looked at him. Now that we were in this gray-lit world, I could see him more clearly too. And I realized he was not without other injuries—injuries I had not yet treated. His face looked bleached, his lips bloodless. If the line they were in meant anything, he was struggling to keep pain in check.

"You were both foxes," I said slowly. The red fox from the previous day and the silvery one from tonight. He had come when I called. And the shadow bull had whipped him into a tree.

"We look different in the In-between," Cale confirmed.

"There are more of you? Of beings like you?"

He didn't reply. He glanced around, finding a fallen log to sit on with a grimace. Seeing him sit down made me realize I'd only ever seen him walking or standing. Now that he was sitting, he seemed so much more vulnerable.

"Are...you okay?" My question was kind, but my tone didn't match it. I hadn't yet been able to let my anger go completely, so I sounded like a petulant two-year-old, who had been forced to apologize for something she wasn't sorry about.

"I feel like I've been pummeled with rocks." Cale rubbed his side.

He could've fractured a rib. I eyed him, but I had no way of judging how wounded he was. My own body's aches were beginning to remind me of their presence, and honestly, I felt bruised as well. Finally, I heaved out a long sigh and sat next to him. He shifted on the fallen log to give me more room, and I stretched out my injured ankle and propped it on another mound of forest debris. Then I closed my eyes for a minute, resting as many muscles as possible. My anger fizzled out as exhaustion blanketed me.

"So where are we going then?" I asked without opening my eyes. "And did we lose an entire night in this place?"

"To Potomah." His voice sounded a little mumbled. "And no...this place is timeless. It always looks like this here."

I blinked my eyes open, which was strangely difficult to do. So maybe I wasn't losing any time, which was one relief. But I was still confused. "The Potomah Forest? Aren't we already there?" Maybe he meant the heart of the Potomah National Wilderness Area.

Cale had his eyes shut. "THE Potomah. The one whose presence is this forest, the one whose name the forest granted to her. They are interchangeable now."