Elfhame (Skeleton Key) by Skeleton Key, Anthea Sharp Page B

high overhead. Silver light illuminated the tall evergreen trees surrounding her, and beneath them grew strange flowers that glowed dark purple and scarlet.
    The trees, at least, were still hemlock and cedar, though they whispered to her in a language she could not understand.
    A flicker of light danced through the air, and Mara was glad to see that one of her guides had accompanied her. It flitted to the edge of the clearing, then bobbed impatiently up and down.
    “Very well,” Mara said. There was no reason to linger near the doorway when a magical new world awaited her.
    She patted her pocket to make sure the key was still there—not that she trusted it to remain—then checked the knife at her waist. Before stepping under the trees, she turned and studied the clearing. The stones stood tall against the night sky. She could see no distinguishing landmarks—no twisted bushes or ragged stumps to signal the way back.
    Well then. She’d just have to trust the winged sparks to guide her when it was time for her to return.
    But first, she was truly embarked on an adventure.
    The glowing creature lit a path into the evergreens, and Mara followed, her steps taking her through a deeper, richer version of the Darkwood. The scent of cedar and rich loam tickled her nose. The glowing flowers grew in clusters between the trunks, along with a soft moss that shed a faint emerald light. The trees were much taller than in her world, the trunks wider—some even as broad as a cottage. High overhead, the wind waved the branches in a hushing lullaby.
    The light grew stronger, until she stepped out of the woods into a meadow filled with tall, silvery grasses. The little golden glow she’d been following swooped back to circle three times around her head, then flew straight up into the sky.
    “Wait!” Mara cried.
    She stared up at the night until her eyes watered, but the mote had settled itself in among the stars. Now she was alone, and the wind suddenly blew cooler, bringing with it a dank whiff of something rotten.
    Where did she go, now that her guide had abandoned her? She turned a slow circle, wrinkling her nose at the stench. It seemed to be coming from her right. Moving quickly, she headed away from the smell and into the meadow. The grasses were almost as high as her chest, but parted easily as she passed.
    No matter how fast she went, though, she could not get away from nasty smell. In fact, it was growing stronger. There was a noise, too, a chittering sound that made the back of her neck prickle with fear.
    She broke into a run, pushing through the grasses. The sound grew louder. Breath coming fast, Mara risked a glanced over shoulder, then wished she had not.
    A hideous creature scuttled out of the forest. It looked like an enormous spider—if spiders had hard shells and pincer claws. It had at least six red eyes that swiveled to fix upon her. Quicker than she thought possible, it hurtled into the meadow, clicking and emitting a high-pitched screech.
    Mara dug her feet into the earth, praying she could outrun the monster. A noxious shadow passed over her, and then the creature landed ahead of her, pincers raised.
    A moan of fear curdled in her throat. Though it was hopeless, she drew the kitchen knife. It trembled in her hand. It seemed her adventure this night was going to be very short-lived, indeed.
    The monster opened its mouth, and the stench that emitted nearly brought her to her knees. Then it jumped again, directly for her.
    Mara dodged and went to her knees, slashing out blindly with her knife. Miraculously, it connected with one of the creature’s legs, sending out a spatter of green ichor that burned her arm. She let out a cry of pain and dropped the blade. Her forearm felt seared to the bone.
    The monster screeched and pivoted, raising its pincers, and despair washed over her. Goodbye, my family , she thought. I wish I’d had the chance to tell you all I love you.
    Then, from out of the blackness of the night, a