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“Any chance someone can explain a few of these cultural terms? For example, snoods?” I glanced between the two of them, hoping for compassion and mercy.
It was no surprise when Esme rolled her eyes and averted her gaze. But Sadie nodded thoughtfully. “Eonix are the spirits that haunt these woods, created by the evil deeds of the world. They guard their secrets in the caves, only leaving to whisper them in the ears of sleeping victims.”
“That’s why you have dreams about the ones you love. The Eonix are telling you their secrets.” Esme’s eyes darted from side to side as though spilling the secret would bring their wrath.
“And a snood,” Sadie continued, “is what happens when an Eonix takes possession of anyone who trespasses in the forest. The human becomes a host and the Eonix is called a snood. They work all sorts of mischief—“
“Hiding keys,” Esme offered, “ruining relationships, causing traffic.” She frowned. “Losing the remote for the television.”
To me, it sounded like they were blaming any misfortune on things they couldn’t see. Maybe it was human nature. When my grandfather lost anything around the house, my grandmother always claimed: The communists took it. It made for an interesting birthday one year when he lost her present and then told her it was those communists again. Clearly, humans in every culture were bad at taking responsibility for their own mistakes.
A stiff breeze tore through the labyrinth of trees, pressing us back with force, seconds before it disappeared to nothing. Esme whimpered behind me like a nervous dog in a thunderstorm.
“I think we should go this way.” Esme tugged my coat. “Everything is darker that way and it’s nothing but caves and rock walls.”
I shook my head and pointed at the area ahead of us. “No, look; there are footprints. It’s all disturbed.”
“The Eonix want you to believe that. Then they pull you into their caves and carve out your soul for soup.”
What freaky fairytales did these people believe? Some of the original versions of our mainstream classics were pretty twisted, but never once had an evil stepmother made soul soup.
“No, Michaela is right.” Sadie nodded toward the prints. “We’re going this way.”
“It’s dark.” Esme planted her feet and shook her head. “I won’t go. Grandma told me stories about the Eonix that live here.” Fear drove her backward. “I’ll check this way. I’ll call you if I find it.”
Before I could count to five, she’d started running for the forest entrance, looking for release from her superstitions. But Sadie made no move to follow, and I felt the need to keep her safe. Sadie wasn’t big, but a soul like hers could feed an Eonix for a week at least.
“So,” I kicked at some of the powdery snow and got rewarded with a sparkling shower in a rare beam of light, “you know all the names for things and whatever. Does that mean you’ve played this game before?”
“Sneaky Snoods?” She bent to check within a tree’s branches for the flag. “Not with royals, just as kids playing around. Loads of times.”
“So, you leave out the kiss?” It felt like a relevant question. I tried to imagine if the winner for Freeze Tag got to kiss somebody at the end. On my playground growing up, that would have ended in at least one person being accused of having cooties.
Sadie’s cheeks reddened. “No, we elected other children to play the part of royals.”
“From your reaction,” I couldn’t help but tease her a little, “I wager there’s a story there.”
“Not really.” Sadie resumed walking, acting like she wanted to brush me off. “Just my first kiss.”
“That sounds juicy.” I caught up to her. “What was his name?”
“Tauriq.” Her volume dropped. “He was my first boyfriend.” Sadie turned away. “I thought we’d get married.”
“It didn’t work out?”
“No.” A silent pause gripped the surrounding air. “He’s dead.”
“I’m sorry.” I meant it for more than her loss, but for bringing it up and prying. No wonder she was struggling with Fitz. She’d lost her first love and landed in these crazy circumstances. It had to be overwhelming.
Sadie waved me off and pressed into the darker parts of the woods, following the trail of footprints. “I come from Eshein, the poorest province in Nolcovia. We’re mostly farmers, and some, like me, are apothecaries. We sell most everything to Aclusia Province, our neighbors and the richest of our country.” Her fingers trailed over the trunk of a tree as she passed beneath a low branch. “Eshein feels separate from the rest of Nolcovia. We don’t go to any of the celebrations here in the capital, but we do our own. We don’t leave our province, except for trade, and even then, it’s over the border and back.” She shook her head. “I never should have ended up here. It was a mistake.”
I thought of that first night and the words we’d shared in her doorway. “That’s what you meant the first night. You feel like an outsider here.”
“I think that’s why I gravitate toward you.” Her shoulders bounced once. “You know what it feels like to be close, but not in the room.”
I ducked under the same low branch and then followed her between two trees. She moved faster, her pace quickened by something she saw. She ducked right, then left, shifted a branch, and hardly waited for me to get through it.
“Sadie, what are you—“
