A hard object landed on my shoulder, pulling a cry from me. The dryad tugged on my ear. “You will go that way.” She turned my head to the left. “You will walk until I say stop. You will go now.” Nymphs were goddesses in their own right, and they ordered humans around like one.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped off the path. The rustling overhead increased tenfold as though the whole forest was rocked by whipping gusts of wind. They were all coming to see the girl wrap their babe in a woolen gift and lay them to rest. But how could this be? Had the nymphs truly found and adopted a human child? Was this babe abandoned by a desperate student? Were they out here all night while we were decorating our dorm rooms and chatting up new friends?
“Stop.” I halted just short of an ankle-high tree root. “You will turn right. You will step between the twin oaks. You will not disturb them.”
I followed her orders, squeezing carefully between the narrow opening between two oak trees. The world only the dryads knew unfolded before me.
A soft, mossy bed of green blanketed the tiny oasis between the trees. Overhead, the branches twisted and tangled, forming a natural roof from which the vines and flowers dangled. Amidst it all, in a bed of leaves, moss, and grass, lay a sleeping babe.
He didn’t look new to this world. A plumpness to his cheeks and thickness in his curls put him at a few months old. He looked peaceful and sweet, sucking on his fist while he dreamed. He also didn’t look to be harmed—though if he was, I wouldn’t have blamed the nymphs. The nymphs of legend would raise and protect gods that were in danger from their divine parents. They weren’t strangers to adopting babes that needed a family.
But this will not be yours, little one. I cannot walk away from an abandoned child, even if the nymphs are willing to care for him.
“You will swaddle him,” Mahaila said. “You will teach us the buttons.”
They were right that he needed blankets. The poor thing was put out in only some thin wrappings to catch waste and nothing else.
“Okay.” I laid my coat out and placed the child within the warmth. “Now tell me how to get over the gate enchantment.”
“Simple, child. The power is in the link. The link must be broken.”
I paused. “The link must be broken? I don’t know what that means.”
“Break the link. Break the circle, then anyone can leave.”
“Break the circle,” I whispered. “You mean... break the gate. The spell is activated when the gate closes whole and intact. And if I can’t break the gate?”
“All spells can be undone by the person who cast them.”
“By the person who— That person died hundreds of years ago,” I cried.
“That person cast her spell and went inside the human dwelling when the sun touched the horizon. Find her and make her undo her human trickery.”
The second option wasn’t an option at all. No way I was forcing a child of Hecate and likely instructor to do anything. They’d have me trussed up and on my way to hard labor so fast, I wouldn’t know which way was up before I hit the dirt in chains.
So, I’ll find a way to destroy the fence, but that’s a problem for another night. First, I have to get through this one.
I finished wrapping the baby in my coat and held him to my chest. “Thank you for all your help. I’m going now, and I’m taking the child.”
“What does she say?”
“He is ours.”
“Put him down!”
Rocking back on my heels, I got ready. “I can’t leave him here. There are people nearby who can help. Find his mother or a family who’ll care for him.” A thick, pungent smell hit my nose. Goodness, the poor thing needed changing too. “He comes with me.”
“He’s not yours to take, girl.”
“He’s not yours to keep,” I flung. “And this isn’t a debate.”
I shot through the trees, tearing through the brush for the path. Inhuman screeches echoed in the forest—the trees were crying.
“Bring him back!”
“Our babe! She’s stolen our babe!”
“Give us the child!”