The wolf stared at her, then barked a guttural laugh, making me jump. “The little human has teeth,” he remarked, and lowered himself to his haunches, giving Kenzie an almost approving look. Sheathing my blades, I edged up so that I was standing beside her, just in case. Even sitting down, the wolf towered over her. “But you are correct, little mortal. I am the best tracker in the Deep Wyld, the wyldwood and all the Nevernever. The wretched cat informed me that you were searching for a Summer gentry that had crossed the river into the Deep Wyld. He suggested I might lead you to her.” He snorted, curling a lip in disdain. “Normally, such effortless hunts are a waste of my time, but the cat would not call on me if it was not important.” He panted, baring shiny teeth in an evil grin. “And I would never turn down the opportunity to hold a favor over his arrogant, insufferable head.
“Well, then.” Stretching with easy grace, the wolf glanced at me and the Thin Man. “Shall we get on with it, then? I smelled a Summer gentry passing through not long ago, so the trail will not be difficult to find.”
“What about Grimalkin?” Kenzie wondered.
The wolf shrugged.
“The cat is not coming. He said he wouldn’t be joining you this time, something about returning to the realm that needed him. Good riddance, if you ask me. Listening to him talk makes me want to snap his head off.” The wolf rolled his glowing eyes. “Let’s go. The sooner we get this done, the better. But, I do suggest you stay close, little humans. The Deep Wyld is not a place that takes kindly to trespassers. Don’t leave the trail, and don’t wander off by yourselves. If you stare into the trees and something stares back, ignore it and keep walking. If something calls your name, ignore it and keep walking. With any luck, you’ll leave the Deep Wyld with the same number that you started with.”
“We’re here for Annwyl,” I reminded the wolf, as he turned and padded soundlessly toward the tree line. “We should leave with one more than we started with.” He snorted without looking back.
“I know.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHICKEN BARGAINS
Surprisingly, the journey through the Deep Wyld was not as treacherous as I feared. Though it could have been, I suspected, far more dangerous than the river, or the wyldwood, or any realm we’d encountered so far. Unlike the hazy gray twilight of the wyldwood, this forest was almost pitch-black. The canopy shut out the sky, and Kenzie’s mini-flashlight beam seemed weak in the absolute darkness of the Deep Wyld. I could feel eyes on me from every angle, watching from the trees and shadow.
Back in the wyldwood, things moved through the brush and in the corners of your eyes, just enough to make you paranoid. In the Deep Wyld, the feeling of being watched was constant to the point of driving you crazy. As if the entire forest—trees, rocks, even the darkness itself—was watching you, judging you, and if you stared back too hard, you might see something horrible.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one on edge.
“Do you feel like we’re being watched?” Kenzie asked after several minutes of hiking. Razor, perched on her shoulder, gazed around with huge green eyes and occasionally mumbled something under his breath, showing a glimmer of neon light.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “I do.” I checked my swords, making sure they were still there, at my waist. “Wonder how long it’ll be before something comes leaping out at us?”
A few paces ahead, the wolf snorted.
“Don’t worry so much, little humans,” he growled, glancing back at us. “Nothing will attack you here.”
“How can you be sure?” Kenzie asked.
“Because you are with me,” the wolf replied.
“Right,” I muttered, unconvinced. Yeah, the wolf was huge, and strong, and scary, but I’d seen things like giants and dragons that were way bigger. “And who are you, again?”
“Not very bright, are you?” was the rumbled answer. “I am Wolf, Ethan Chase. Every story, every tale that you’ve heard that had a wolf in it, that was me. The Grimm brothers, Aesop the storyteller, even your modern fable of a man who becomes a beast the night of the full moon. Those stories are all mine. You should know who I am.”
“Oh,” I said, as it finally clicked. Not a wolf. The Wolf. The one who ate Red Riding Hood’s grandma, terrorized the Boy who cried Wolf and threatened the three little pigs. The Big Bad Wolf himself.
I shut up after that.
A while later, we stopped at a small stream. How long we’d been trekking through the Deep Wyld, I couldn’t say. Hours or days, for all I knew. The Wolf never slowed except to sniff the ground or the air, testing the wind, and then he was off again. A rickety wooden bridge spanned the banks of the stream, even though it was barely three feet across, and the Wolf sniffed that, too.
“She’s been here,” he said, curling a lip. His fangs flashed briefly in the darkness as he pulled back, wrinkling his nose, and I frowned.
“Something wrong?”
“Not for me. But you might want to see this.”
Warily, I walked around to the bridge entrance. Someone had nailed a chicken’s head and feet to each of the wooden posts. A few blood-caked feathers fluttered in the breeze, and I joined the Wolf in wrinkling my nose.
“Ew,” Kenzie said, echoing my sentiment. “What the heck is that?”
“It’s a warning,” the Wolf said. “Whoever put this up is telling people to stay away. Not a problem in itself, but if it’s the person I think it is, your girl could be in a lot of trouble if she passed through here.” He shook himself, then sprang lightly over the stream, looking back with glowing eyes. “Let’s go. And don’t touch the water. You’ll turn into a frog if you drink it.”