The Forest of Adventures (#1 of The Knight Trilogy) by Katie M John Page A

the opportunity
of me being alone to come alive and eat me.
    “I don’t fancy it either. I’ve
seen far too many horror films to know it’s a schoolboy error to
leave the dippy bird in the car.”
    “Always the same!” he said
smiling.
    “If we leave the car here in
the middle of the road, it’s an accident waiting to happen.”
    “Don’t you have some hazard
boards?” I asked.
    “Yes, but they’ll have to go at
the top of each hill or they’ll be useless.”
    “You take one, I’ll take the
other.”
    The slamming of the car doors
was barely audible in the downpour and within seconds of being out
of the car we were both drenched, water pouring down our faces.
Blake came out from under the boot holding two hazard signs and a
rucksack into which he had thrown several necessary items. He
handed me one of the signs.
    “Just try to avoid any weird
looking strangers.”
    “Too late,” I said winking at
him.
    “Yes. Very funny! Now run along
and try to avoid any other weird looking strangers,
especially if they look like they’re armed.”
    “What – like this?” I waved my
free arm in the air.
    “Just go!” He laughed.
    The signs were up and we met
back at the car to begin our journey upslope together. On either
side of us, ancient oaks and ash trees towered. The woodland had
been here since medieval times. By day it was timelessly beautiful,
all soft greens, gentle lights, wild flowers and butterflies.
    When we were children we would
play in the woods, making dens and playing Arthurian Knights. We
called it the Forest of Adventures and we had lavish feasts of wild
strawberries and nettle nectar, but we’d always come home before
the darkness came. Every child that grew up around these woods knew
that once the moon came up, the night creatures came out and the
unsettled dead walked in the shadows.
    We spent our childhood
sleepovers scarring each other witless with stories of the headless
hunt, ridden by the ghosts of hunters and their demon dogs, who
chased their prey through the woods until its heart exploded, of
old hags that lived in the bottom of trees and ate children’s
fingers as if they were biscuits, of fairies that bewitched you,
trapping you forever in fairyland until you pined away becoming
nothing more than a shadow of your previous self. As we grew older,
the night-creatures lost their magical identity and changed into
the horror story characters of serial killers, drunks and perverts
that dragged teenage girls into the woods and did unspeakable
things to them.
    Tonight, the woods seemed once
more the magical and haunted place of my childhood.
     
    *
    We continued through the trees
in silence, the rain drowning out any attempt at communication. I
followed Blake’s white shirt as if it were a beacon in the
darkness. My teeth chattered from cold and the irrational fear that
somehow everything had moved to put us both in this spot at this
time. Some primitive leftover instinct screamed that I was walking
into danger. What choice do I have? I was soaked to the skin
and my bones felt like they were turning to ice. The rain began to
ease but there was still no signal and without any need for
discussion we left the road and went deeper into The Forest of
Adventures.
    After twenty minutes of
walking, the rain at last gave up. Blake stopped, checking once
again for a signal.
    “Sorry, Mina, no luck yet.
We’re getting closer to the top and there should be a signal
there.” He looked over at me as if he was seeing me for the first
time, concern rushed over his face, “Mina, are you alright? You
look frozen solid.”
    He held out a hand, solid and
strong, pulling me into him, my head the perfect height for his
shoulders but his body offered no warmth; he was as cold as stone
himself.
    I couldn’t stop myself from
shaking. Letting me go, Blake rifled through the rucksack and
pulled out a woollen jumper and a long woollen scarf, “Here! There
was no point giving them to you earlier they’d only