The Unwilling Adventurer (The Unwilling #1) by Heidi Willard

"Well, you could follow us for a while. That is, until we reach a large enough town where you can find work," he suggested.
    Fred sighed. "What other choice do I have?"
    "Are you two stopping again? We only have a few more hours of daylight!" Pat yelled from her spot far down the road.
    Ned chuckled. "It seems she's taken a liking to you, or she wouldn't care that you're falling behind." The old man didn't wait for a reply, but walked forward to catch up.
    Fred didn't see it that way, but he hurried after Ned without argument. The three met up and continued on their journey down the dusty road. They passed small farms and large estates, and wandered through villages that were only small huddles of houses. The road wound its way beside the river with only a few dozen yards of lush green grass and large trees that separated the travelers from the water. Here and there the river bent away from the road and made for a nice camp spot. Night was coming on when they stopped at one of those picturesque spots that was comfortably concealed behind a large swath of tall, wild bushes. The grass there was soft, the trees a comfort against any threat of rain, and the hurriedly abandoned campsite was a very interesting mystery.
    The three companions stood at the outer ring of a campfire circle and looked about them at the mess. Bags lay torn open over the sitting logs and blankets, spread out for sleeping, were tossed around the whole area. A teakettle lay smashed beside the fire rocks, and there were a few unburnt logs stacked in the pit. Ned bent down beside the prepared logs with Pat behind him, but something out of the corner of his eye caught Fred's attention.
    Fred saw marks in the dirt made by the frantic clawing of a man. He followed the marks out of the campfire ring and toward the river, where the man's nails dug into the green grass and tore up clods of mud. The trail led to a tall, wide tree with a large hole in the trunk. The marks ended at the base of the tree, where there was a small pile of bark. Fred stood on the roots to take a look into the hole.
    The other two by the fire examined the debris and unused fire. Ned's lips were pursed together and he shook his head. "Whatever attacked these people struck without warning."
    Pat noticed a boot laying not far from the fire and picked it up. "Yes, but what do you-ah!" She screamed and dropped the boot. Fred and Ned whipped their heads up and around at the girl, who pointed a quivering hand at the boot. Her face was pale and she stuttered out her words. "T-there's a foot in there!"
    Fred's face lost its color, but Ned stood up and walked over to the boot. He carefully lifted the clothing item and glanced inside; his face grew more grave. "It seems we have a larger problem than I guessed."
    Fred trembled and froze; the problem with his trembling was that he hadn't moved. He heard a noise behind him and slowly turned his head back to the tree. His eyes widened when a pair of large, unknown eyes stared back at him from the trunk, and the limbs bent down to grab at him. The tree was alive, and the hole he stood in front of was the mouth. Fred screamed and lost his grip on the trunk. He fell back onto the ground among roots that tore from the ground and tried to grab at him. He kicked and dodged, and managed to roll out of their reach toward the fire pit.
    Ned and Pat rushed forward and helped Fred to his feet, where he turned around and his mouth dropped open. The tree tore itself out of the ground and stretched its limbs high above the foliage on its head. The mouth let out a great roar and its roots burst up beneath the companions' feet. Ned and Pat avoided the clinging plant, but Fred didn't snap out of his stupor quick enough. A root tangled itself around one of his legs and pulled him off his feet. He had the wind knocked from his lungs, and he didn't have time to recover before he was dragged along the dirt to the creature. He reached the tree and was lifted off the ground, his