The Forest of Sleepers (Nowhere Book 2)

e l e v e n : c a t h e d r a l

Marigold walked into Gwydyr.

When she did, she did not exist. Temporarily, perhaps, but there was still a pocket of time that belonged only to her and to the silent universe and nobody else.

She took in a breath. It was as if her lungs expanded for the first time. Her cheeks were still ruddy from her conversation with Wyatt even though she tried to get it out of her mind.

The blustery day of Nowhere vanished, replaced by late afternoon sun that filtered through the pines and crested over the resurrection fern that covered the sloping branches of the oaks.

Marigold took off her shoes and rested them beside a large boulder. The earth was damp beneath her feet and she could feel its now-familiar heartbeat thrumming against her heels.

Before, the forest was merely dormant. The trees were just trees and the bark held no secrets.

Now, it breathed into Marigold's soul, unfolding the path before her. Now, it was very much alive.

The forest's magic abilities made its guests feel this alive-ness as well.

Marigold had almost gained a sort of dependency on this feeling. The alive-ness. For her entire life, she'd wanted more. Her reach had always exceeded her grasp and she was never able to do enough, which left her spinning out of control. Drowning. Lost.

But not here. Not in Gwydyr.

Because in Gwydyr, the shrubs and the roots and the leaves were not lost. They were here. And so was Marigold. And that was enough.

While all of this was true, this freedom, there was a healthy amount of fear in Marigold's chest. The deeper she trekked into the forest, the more she fell in love. She could tell her heart was growing its own roots in this place and it was increasingly more difficult to leave each time.

This was the price one had to pay in order to be in the presence of Gwydyr.

For centuries, people had killed, gotten killed, and gone mad to either find the forest or stay in it.

Marigold felt this temptation in the heartbeat beneath her feet, in the way it stopped and started.

And yet, didn't the forest owe the Penny sisters something in return for saving it?

Had anyone else in history had a give-and-take relationship with Gwydyr? Did it even make a difference?

These were the secrets that the trees kept from Marigold, but for now, she was at peace with not knowing the answers.

The air around her was sweet but crisp at the same time as if summer and autumn had mingled together and taken the best parts of each to make this atmosphere.

Marigold had been here several times since August, even though her parents had forbidden it. Even her sisters had snuck into it twice, along with Wyatt, of course.

She didn't blame her parents for being scared of a sentient magical forest, but Marigold couldn't help but think that she and Gwydyr were friends. It spoke to her through the language of the trees and she respected it in turn.

Though she couldn't actually see it clearly, the trees outlined a pathway that Marigold routinely followed.

She passed by shimmering brooks, flower-covered hills, and golden fields. For all she knew, she could have walked for ten miles or ten minutes, lost and found at the same time.