Into the Wildewood (36 page)

Raven bowed her head, but her eyes shot over to Keelie as if to ask, “What the hell?”

Keelie shrugged. Yet another question for Dad.

Dad leaned close. “The Shining Ones are the high fairies,” he whispered.

Keelie turned to stare at Raven.
Whoa.

epilogue

Keelie propped her feet on the Swiss Miss Chalet’s dashboard and prayed for deafness. Or a coma. The camper creaked and groaned with every rotation of its tires, battered from the trip up the mountain and Laurie’s wild ride back down. Zeke had decided that he surely could not bring it back down himself, and Laurie, fearless with the Dread gone, had volunteered to show off her driving skills again. In a show of solidarity, Keelie had gone along for the ride, and had probably cut about ten years off her lifespan. Maybe she didn’t need to learn how to drive quite so soon.

But Zeke was himself again, and Keelie was stuck in the cab of the creakmobile with Knot, and Laurie, and the
bhata
that would not go home, and the treeling—which had sprouted immediately after being planted in a homely terra-cotta pot and had been driving her nuts ever since.

Nuts was not a pun.

“When are we going to stop? I need coffee.” Laurie sounded as peevish as Keelie felt.

“No coffee. We aren’t stopping to go the bathroom, which we’d have to if you had coffee.” Dad tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.

“Keelie, your father is an ogre.”

“Nope. He’s an elf.”

I need to be watered. Do you have mineral water? Not that tap stuff that chaps my leaves.
The aristocratic tree seedling was such a whiner.
And when am I getting a new pot? I’m a princess, you know. This one’s ugly
.

Knot growled. The
bhata
clicked its stick arms at him, then climbed into Keelie’s hair. She shifted uncomfortably. They were all crammed into the cab together because the back was stuffed full of her belongings taken out of storage, plus Laurie’s mountain of luggage.

Keelie found herself looking forward to the Dread Forest. At least there, the elves would be rude and ignore her, and she could put some distance between herself and the Acorn Princess Alora.

“I could really use coffee. Come on, Zeke.” Laurie wheedled like a pro.

“We haven’t left the parking lot yet. Give me a break.”

Keelie groaned and put her face against the window glass. It was going to be a long trip. And the second half would include a blind hawk, when they picked Ariel up on the way to Oregon. Maybe Ariel would eat Princess Alora.

She smiled at the thought as they bumped their way out of the closed-down Wildewood Faire. The road was already clogged with the vehicles of disgruntled shopkeepers and performers. Keelie was glad she hadn’t seen Finch again, since the fire-breathing administrator had probably completed her transformation into a dragon.

Around them, the forest stretched, green and lush up the mountain. Keelie thought she saw a glint of white near the top.

Goodbye Einhorn. See you and Raven next year. If I survive the Dread Forest.

And in response, she heard his answer, echoed by a chorus of trees that extended far beyond the green Wildewood …

Farewell, Keliel Tree Talker, Daughter of the Forest
.

About Gillian Summers

A forest dweller, Gillian was raised by gypsies at a Renaissance Faire. She likes knitting, hot soup, and costumes, and adores oatmeal—especially in the form of cookies. She loathes concrete, but tolerates it if it means attending a science fiction convention. She’s an obsessive collector of beads, recipes, knitting needles, and tarot cards, and admits to reading
InStyle
Magazine. You can find her in her north Georgia cabin, where she lives with her large, friendly dogs and obnoxious cats, and at
www.gilliansummers.com
.

Look for Book III of the Faire Folk Trilogy in Summer 2009.