The Forest of Sleepers (Nowhere Book 2)

t w e n t y - f i v e : g a r d e n i n g

As far as Tuesdays went, Wyatt had not been having the best one, so he was glad when Wednesday came and went, filled with nothing but silence as Wyatt worked on his rose bush and tended to the tomatoes.

The roses were dormant now, but Wyatt could tell they were going to bloom marvelously in the spring. Maybe he could even sell some of them along with the tomatoes.

He had hoped Thursday would be the same, but of course, it wasn't.

It had started out promising, with Evelyn in an oddly good mood. She kept talking about the chicken and rice they had the other night, a meal Wyatt knew he didn't make.

Then he realized that Birdie must have been the culprit.

It was funny how much space she occupied both in his mind and in his life even when she wasn't around. Not that he minded so much.

Ever since his escape into Gwydyr, there had been no sign of the cat. Wyatt had so many questions, so many things to think about.

He wasn't usually a paranoid type of person, but he found that he was becoming easily startled. It wasn't easy being calm when death was prophesied to be around every corner.

Stop it, he told himself. He tried not to think about the tomb or the foretelling. Futures changed all the time, didn't they? Who was to say that Wyatt's couldn't?

What bothered him more than that, however, was what the cat had told him.

Awaken the sleepers and live.

What did it mean? Were the sleepers really guardians of the forest? And if Wyatt awakened them, how would it be able to save him?

Why does it want me dead in the first place?

Marshall appeared out of the corner of Wyatt's eye, his shoulders particularly hunched and his nose pointing toward the ground.

Without looking up from his pruning, Wyatt said, "I haven't seen you around here in a while."

"I've been...thinking," Marshall said in his timid voice.

"About?"

"Ophelia Penny."

That caught Wyatt's attention. He looked up with a more severe expression than he'd intended to, which made Marshall shrink back.

"I...I..." Marshal stammered.

Wyatt lifted an expectant brow.

"I like her," Marshall whispered. "A lot."

The look on Wyatt's face, generally, was one of shock. But it was the type of shock one would have after witnessing something so absurd that one wouldn't know whether to scoff or laugh or be plain dumbfounded.

"You...and Ophelia?" Wyatt clarified. His filter for "things that are polite to say" was having a difficult time functioning lately. So he said bluntly, "You're a ghost, Marshall."

Marshall flinched. "I know that. Which is why I'm talking to you and not her."

"She doesn't know how you feel?"

"No. And I don't want to hurt her, but every time I'm around her, I just..." he struggled to find the words, but his lovelorn face revealed what his mouth couldn't.

Wyatt ran his hand through his hair. Marshall had picked the wrong person to ask about this.

"So what are you saying?"