Breadcrumbs - Anne Ursu [42]
She had stepped into the woods in the park and landed in an entirely different place. She knew this might happen. She’d been to Narnia, Wonderland, Hogwarts, Diction-
opolis. She had tessered, fallen through the rabbit hole, crossed the ice bridge into the unknown world beyond. Hazel knew this world. And it should have made this easier.
But it did not.
Hazel shuddered. She couldn’t get out even if she wanted to. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t want to get out, not now anyway. She had a job to do.
Hazel took a deep breath and was about step forward when some primal instinct made her turn her head to the left. And when she did she desperately wished she had a place to run to. For about ten yards away, next to one of the trees, was a large gray wolf.
Hazel froze. The wolf sat, erect and still, like a statue. His copper eyes gazed at her. She instinctively took a step backward and still he stared. Panic fused the circuits of her brain. Her breath stopped. She’d read once that if you ran into a bear in the woods you should avoid eye contact and you shouldn’t run away, but all she knew about wolves was that you should never tell them how to find your grandmother’s house.
So Hazel lowered her eyes and took another step back, her skin crawling and her heart buzzing with fright. The wolf blinked, and in all the stillness it was as if he had leapt toward her. But he hadn’t—he just stayed, regarding her, and his gaze was the world.
“Hi,” she croaked.
Nothing.
“I’m just looking for my friend. I don’t mean any harm.”
Stare.
“Um, maybe you’ve seen him. His name’s Jack. He’s got freckles and a blue coat. He was with a woman on a sleigh, a witch or an elf? Dressed all in white . . .”
Blink.
“Well . . . I should be going, then.” Hazel took one step back, then another, then, moving as slowly as possible, she turned around and began to walk away from the wolf.
It was all she could do not to take off and run as fast as she could. Her every muscle begged to be sprung. She wondered whether she would hear him as he approached, or if the next thing she knew would be his jaws on her neck, and then searing pain, and then nothing. But neither thing happened, and she carefully stole a look behind her to see the wolf still at his post, and still watching her.
She crept on for an eternity, one foot in front of the other, grateful for each and every breath. Finally, when she was well out of his sight, she leaned up against one of the trees and let out a great, shaking exhale.
The feeling of his eyes on her had not left her. It seemed like it would never go away, that she would spend the rest of her life feeling that predatory gaze.
She closed her eyes and gathered herself. Find Jack. That was all.
She looked around for some direction, some guidance, some place. There was a clearing up ahead, and it was, at least, a destination. Hazel moved softly toward it, conscious of advertising her presence with every step to all the watchful wolves of the woods. Not that everything was silent—the wind carried whisperings with it, a current of noise just underneath the airy quiet.
She listened, her ears learning how to work in this new world, and she could hear the sounds of birds chirping and trilling, and this was somehow comforting. Normal. There were birds in the woods, and they had things to sing of.
There was another noise in the wind, too, something that did not seem normal—at least not here. As Hazel continued to walk forward the sound clarified and she had to stop to take in what she was hearing.
Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.
Hazel shook her head slightly at the strangeness of it, this once-ordinary sound that in the mist-filled forest felt like a mechanical menace. She moved toward the sound, the ticks marking out her steps, and she realized it was coming from the clearing. And then she saw why.
The clearing was about the size of the first floor of Hazel’s house, and at the very center of it was a clock.