Someone was calling my name.

  I opened my eyes to near-darkness. Pale moonlight trickled in from my sole bedroom window. I caught a whiff of something sharp and pungent. Smoke, perhaps?

  I lay very still and listened. Nothing. Had I been dreaming? I took a deep breath of air. It was pleasantly cool, and I caught the faint smell of smoke again. Odd… had Durst forgotten to bank the fire? That wasn’t like him.

  A sharp rap made me jolt and look towards my large bedroom window. A spindly silver branch tapped against the glass; once, twice, a third time, quite insistently. I blinked at it. The trees had never done such a thing before. I started to sit up and a door slammed.

  I froze. The branch rapped again.

  “Brin!”

  Royce came crashing through my bedroom door. His eyes were wild. Blonde hair clung to his temples.

  “Royce?!” I hurried towards him. Another crack sounded from behind. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

  He wrapped me in a tight embrace. The smells of smoke and something metallic clung to his sweat-soaked tunic.

  “You’re okay!” His muscular arms were trembling. “You’re okay. Of course you’re okay, this is probably the safest place in town!”

  Royce stood a full head taller than me, but I was just able to peer over his shoulder. From beyond my bedroom and our open front door I saw… light? Distant light, orange and dancing. It silhouetted the backdrop of Fellbrook. I gasped. Fire.

  “What’s happening?” I pulled back. “Is there a fire? We need to go help!” Was Durst already in town, getting people to safety? I didn’t see him in our kitchen, and he surely would have appeared, probably with a hunting knife in hand, when the front door had burst open.

  Another crack from behind, and the sound of splintering glass. Royce put his hands on my shoulders and held me at arms’ length. His face glowed white with moonlight and a thin sheen of sweat.

  “It’s not a fire. I mean, it is, but that’s not…” He shook his head as if to clear it, jaw clenched. “It’s Fae, Brin. Monsters. They’re in Fellbrook.”

  I gaped at him. “That’s… not… possible. The witchwood… Durst says they can’t come back. They can’t get through the trees. It’s impossible.”

  “That’s probably why they’re burning it.”

  Ice spiked in my chest at the thought of the trees, my trees, burning. I gave a cry of dismay and rushed towards my bedroom door.

  Royce blocked my path, arms spread wide. I tried to push past but he didn’t budge.

  “It’s safest inside, Brin! There’s no way we’re going back out there!” His baritone, usually rife with levity, was several octaves higher than normal. “I know you care about the woods, but you don’t understand, you didn’t see what-!”

  “Durst is out there!” My own voice turned shrill with panic. Royce’s face took on a horribly pained expression.

  We stared at each other for an impossibly long moment. Just as I was about to push past him, a deep growl came crawling from beyond the doorway. Something guttural. Feral. Hungry.

  Royce turned. I peered past his shoulder, fingers twisting nervously at the hem of my nightdress. Was it a Fae? An otherworldly monster, come to devour us? The thought was unreal, impossible, and yet…

  Distant firelight made shadows dance erratically across the hallway and flit with abandon through the kitchen, but the house beyond my bedroom appeared empty.

  Crack. Glass tinkled behind me.

  “R-Royce?” I squinted into the hallway. I couldn’t see anything there, but the pit in my stomach screamed danger.

  The growl came again, from so close- just there, beyond my door, but there was nothing- that I jerked backwards. Royce lunged forward, slammed my bedroom door shut, and drew the bolt.

  We stood in breathless silence. Movement from near the floorboards drew my gaze. My jaw dropped in wordless terror as from between Royce’s mud-caked boots there came a shadow. A shadow with nothing to cast it, pooling in beneath the crack in the door. Royce followed my gaze downwards and, with a sharp intake of breath, jerked away.

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  It slid into the room like spilled oil. Shapeless, silent as death. It glided across the floor, towards my nightstand.

  The shadow drifted upwards, and then spread onto my bed. I could see shapes churning within the blackness; gangly, bent limbs and a long snout.

  Crack. The branch snapped again, black leaves flush against the glass. My window splintered, and fractured moonlight spilled forth to illuminate the creature that took shape before us.

  One moment, there was a shadow looming across my bed. In the next breath its edges had sharpened, hardened, turned solid. Black, jagged claws stretched out from large paws. A vaguely canine muzzle bared uneven teeth, sharp as shards of broken glass.

  The Fae monster looked at me, straight into my eyes, growling and bunching its muscles into a coil. It was going to lunge at me.

  I screamed.

  Royce threw himself forward. His fist smashed into its dog-like head, knocking it sideways onto my pillow. It twisted and snapped its horrible, jagged teeth at his arm- ashes, into his arm. Crimson spattered across my bedspread. I screamed again, staggering back and looking around wildly for a way to help. Royce tumbled to the floor with a cry. My nightstand and runebook were sent crashing down beside him.

  The Fae monster snapped its gaze back towards me. Lifted its head, nostrils flaring. Its night-black muzzle gleamed slick and red.

  Crack. Glass tinkled onto my bed and floor. Royce heaved himself upright. I saw blood smeared along his arm, but he seemed to be okay.

  He seemed less okay a moment later when, roaring like a bull, he tackled the monster through my bedroom window.

  "No!" I rushed forward.

  The pair thrashed across matted grass. Shattered glass glittered around them. Familiar hissing, louder and fiercer than I had ever imagined, echoed from the surrounding trees.

  I grabbed the windowsill and tried to heave myself through. Hot pain blossomed in my hands. I cried out.

  “Run!” my friend screamed. The cry was followed by a wet tearing, like something out of a terrible dream. I grabbed the sill again. Heaved myself through. My palms burned as I fell onto the cold grass.

  "I'm coming, Royce! I'll... I'll..." I looked around desperately, but there was only mud and broken glass.

  And me. My runebook was inside, but I knew some of its magic by heart. Nothing to cause harm, at least not normally, but perhaps against this monster of shadow…

  I lifted shaking, bleeding fingers and traced. “Vir.” The little symbol hung in the air, smoldering… then coiled into warm light no larger than an acorn.

  The Fae tore its maw from Royce with another wet rip. He let out a groan that made my blood run cold. The monster looked at me. Cringed away.

  My little light hung there for a moment. Then faded into shadow.

  “No!” It wasn’t enough.

  The hissing became a buzz, a frenetic roar that swallowed up every other sound. All around me, before me, above me…

  I looked up. Just as the tree nearest my window stooped, actually twisted its graceful trunk down… and a hundred thin silver branches, gleaming like knives, sank into the monster.

  I knelt, mute with horror. The creature snarled, spasmed… and went limp with a distinctly canine whimper.

  The tree stayed there for a moment, flexed its piercing branches, and then… apparently satisfied, righted itself. Soft leaves stretched down to brush my cheeks. The black velvet glistened with blood.

  “Th… thank… thank…” I couldn’t seem to make my mouth work. The leaves pulled away, unperturbed.

  Royce groaned. The sound snapped me into action. I scrambled forwards, fighting back bile at the sight of the mangled hound. Its body was limp and twisted.

  "Royce! Are you... it’s dead, they killed it… they killed it… salt, there's so much blood..." Everything was stained red. The grass, so much of Royce… but he was moving, heaving himself upright with one arm.

  He stared glassy-eyed at the nearby tree. Streaks of blood slid along the silver.

  Royce clutched at my shoulder, then my cheek, with one heavy hand. “Are you okay? Did it hurt you?"

  I felt the wild urge to laugh. Me, hurt? The monster hadn’t touched me.

  I shook my head. Then the pain in my hands registered. I looked down. My palms were sprinkled with red, glittering shards of broken glass. Some of them were clearly embedded in my skin. I shivered.

  In a daze, Royce and I staggered towards the front door. In the distance Fellbrook loomed, haloed by orange light and plumes of smoke. I wanted to yank my boots on and sprint down the dirt path, go see if Durst was alright- of course he was alright, he was Durst, strong and calm and unshakable, he had to be alright- and try to help.

  But Royce’s shoulder was torn and red, there were bits of glass and jagged scrapes all along his arms, and he was limping badly. One side of his trousers was slowly turning dark. My own shaking hands burned with pain.

  We wouldn’t be able to help anyone in this shape.

  Royce stumbled inside. Collapsed into a chair. I elbowed the front door closed and rummaged, with much wincing and whimpering, through our kitchen cabinets until I had found some clean rags and a small pitcher of water.

  I didn’t have any of Brother Clem’s tonics or poultices on hand. But Clem had also taught me the more practical, immediate means of tending to injuries. I knew at least some of what to do.

  Royce mumbled something unintelligible. I looked over to see that he was slumped half-out of the chair. His blue eyes were hooded and glassy.

  “What?” I hurried over. My right foot landed in something warm and sticky. I looked down and gasped at the small pool of blood spreading beneath the chair.

  His eyelids fluttered.

  “H-hey.” I shook his uninjured shoulder gently.

  He made no response.

  Ashes, that was a lot of blood. Was it all coming from his leg? I knelt. The fabric of his thick woolen trousers was heavy and wet. Jagged holes pierced the cloth in a vaguely maw-shaped pattern, all of it smeared crimson. I could make out a mangle of torn flesh under the cloth.

  I pressed rags and my forearms against his thigh as hard as I could, trying to keep myself calm. I knew this, I could do this, Clem had taught me how to do this.

  “Royce, you have to… I need you to s-stay awake, okay?”

  His head lolled to one side. He moaned a bit, but his eyes remained closed.

  I bit back a sob. This was too much blood. “Please?”

  The rags began to stain dark and red beneath my arms. I went numb at the sight.

  What if I can’t stop the bleeding? What if he…. dies- no, I can’t think like that. That won’t help him, and I need to help him.

  Maybe I could try to tie the cloth around his thigh and run into Fellbrook for help. But that would take time, and who knew if anyone in town would even be able to come back with me. And if there were more Fae along the path…

  Vaguely, I heard hissing and rustling from beyond the front door. It swelled to a vicious crescendo as I knelt there, frozen with fear at the thought that another monster might come bursting it. Outside the kitchen windows I saw branches and leaves swaying, stretching out towards something beneath them…

  Abruptly, they stopped.

  And there was a very gentle knock at the door.