An emerald canopy was replaced with sterling silver, the orange leaf litter fading to midnight black. The warmth of the Nimn day chilled. They followed the trailhead past pockets of wildflowers and thorny thickets as the chittering of squirrels and peeps of wrens faded into scarcity.
Then the familiar weight of June leaning on May’s shoulder vanished without their usual stubborn grunt of pain. She turned her head, but her sibling wasn’t there. They weren’t behind her either, or in front, or on her other side. May found herself standing all alone, no longer on the path, with only the silence of the silver woods surrounding her.
Everyone knew the Gravewoods were not to be fucked with. May underestimated that.
She debates giving up and waiting for someone to come find her. June probably went up ahead. They probably found the Witch and got their potion and fucked off. And when May finally gets home tonight, legs all scratched up from thorns and covered in dirt, she knows they’ll yell at her for ditching them. Bitterness coats her tongue. She stops to bang her forehead lightly against a Gravewood tree.