When I was all the way in and only a few feet down the hole, a cold, dry darkness surrounded me.

How far did Darius say it was? A hundred feet, a hundred yards? I could not remember, but whatever the distance, I was sure it would seem like a hundred miles. The farther I shuffled in, the darker it became. After a while, I closed my eyes to keep the dirt from stinging them. Within twenty minutes, my back and knees began to ache, and a horrible fear gripped me. I opened my eyes and had the strange effect of a dream from which I could not wake; blackness turned to blackness as I opened and shut my eyes, and a dark terror welled up in my throat.

It occurred to me at that moment that I could not turn around. Would not, in fact, be able to turn around when it came time to retreat out of the tunnel. Shuffling forward was hard enough, but backward would be impossible. I would die underground, exhausted and bawling in the end, probably wedged sideways in an ill-fated attempt to turn around. I began to hyperventilate and see a rainbow of colored stars in the darkness. Another moment and I was sure I would pa.s.s out with my face in the dirt.

I leaned back on my ankles and tried to calm down. Twenty minutes in. Why hadn't I counted each of my shuffles forward? If each of my advances was a foot in length, then I was moving at a rate of twenty feet per minute, which would put me four hundred feet into the tunnel. That would mean Darius was lying, since I had already 108.

gone at least a hundred yards. He had probably already covered the entryway with dirt and wandered off into the woods, looking for a hapless victim to devour for lunch. I lay down on my belly against the cold black dirt of my tomb, unsure of what to do next.

I knew I could not turn around or go backward all the way out. I reasoned that the only choices I had were to keep going forward or lie where I was and starve to death. Three shuffles into my decision to go on, my hand encountered air where it should have found floor.

I lowered onto my belly again and tried to reach down and feel the bottom with both arms dangling, but it was too far down to touch. The walls to the sides were also gone, and I perceived a faint light creeping into the s.p.a.ce. I took a pebble and dropped it over the edge and heard it pop at the bottom a few feet below. I slithered down into the new open s.p.a.ce like a dry snake, then stood.

Maybe Darius had only been bad with distance, not bad altogether.

I felt around for walls and found open air all around me for several paces. Then I reached a wall that was clearly made of wood planks, and I felt along its surface to the ceiling a foot above my head. The faint glow I had discerned earlier was not enough to illuminate the darkness, but the sliver of light it created was clear against the grain of the wood. A small opening, no more than an inch, allowed in a weak beam of dusty light.

I stood with my back against one of the walls and 109.

stared at the sliver of light. As I approached the wall and placed one eye over the small opening, I could not imagine what I might see on the other side.

It was a room. A lamp hung on the far wall, and another to my right, from which I could see only light glittering here and there. A table and two chairs, a map on the facing wall with locations I had never seen, winding in a yarn of twists and turns of brown and black. It was a dimly lit room with earth walls, and I could not see a door.

I heard voices, distant echoes at first, like sounds from the meeting room at Renny Lodge when I tried to listen from outside closed doors. I had that same heart-racing fear as the voices came closer. It was two men, arguing about something. As they approached, their words became clearer, in a m.u.f.fled language I knew well.

"I don't care about what he says; we've waited far too long already," said the first man impatiently.

"I know you want to go -- a lot of us do. What do you want me to do about it? He'll go when he's good and ready to go," said the other man. They were in the room now, to my left. Out of my direct sight, but close.

"Why can't we tell him we need to get on with it?" the first man angrily replied. "Our time has come. The men are waiting."

They pa.s.sed in front of me, and I jerked away from the hole with a yelp, falling back with a dull, earthy thud. I was afraid they might have heard me, and I cringed at the thought of seeing another eye staring back at me 110.

through the hole, the boards flying in great splinters as these men broke through and discovered my hiding place.

Soft light was still finding its way through the tiny opening, and the voices moved a little farther away. When I was sure they hadn't heard me, I silently positioned my eye to the hole, and saw that they had settled at the desk to continue their discussion as they reviewed the map hanging above them on the wall. Their tone was quieter, and with the added distance I was allowed only a word here or a fragment there. "Too long." "I understand." An emphatic "No!"

Most of what I heard was a garble of useless words I could not tie together into any meaning. But from the way they spoke and the way they conspired, I could tell that something sinister was going on.

One of the men rose from the desk and began walking toward me, apparently to retrieve something from my side of the room. He was a big man, and as he approached I could see his hair was unkempt and his beard overgrown. I held my breath as he came closer still, almost right in front of me. He struck a matchstick and lit another lamp that hung just to the right of the opening I was looking through. As the light flickered to life, I saw without a doubt what Darius had sent me to see.

This ragged-looking man had a C branded squarely on his forehead.

A convict!

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CHAPTER 14.

THE FOREST council It took me half as long to get out of the tunnel as it had taken me to crawl all the way in. The trip out was much harder on my body as I b.u.mped my elbows, knees, and back in a race for the exit. When I emerged from the hole, the light and heat hit me full force, and it took me several seconds to see anything but sheets of flaming white and yellow. I was exhausted and lay on my back, hands over my eyes, listening to the wind rushing through the leaves on the trees.

"You must be hungry. How about we open up that bag of yours and have something to eat?" It was Darius. He stood a few feet away. I rolled over on my side and looked at him through narrowed eyes.

"What are those men doing down there?" I asked. "I saw one of them up close; he had a C branded on his forehead. I thought all the convicts who built the walls were gone. How can they still be here?" I said.

"Oh, I know what they're doing down there, and so will you shortly. But first some lunch, shall we?"

I tried to question him further, but he wouldn't budge. Finally I gave him some dried meat, which he ate in a flash of teeth and slaver. I chomped indifferently on bread as we walked, slowly making our way back in the 112.

direction of the Turlock wall that divided the mountains from the forest. I kept asking Darius about the men I had seen, but he seemed content to continue on quietly, winding his way through thick underbrush and around the occasional fallen tree. Finally, in frustration, I yelled at him, "Can't you just stop for a minute and tell me something?"

Darius did stop, turning back at me. "I am responsible for two things today: getting you down that hole and having you in Malcolm's capable hands by midday. So far I've accomplished only one of those tasks. All of your questions will be answered before the sun sets tonight, but for now I can't tell you anything more." He turned and started walking again, and though I felt completely exasperated I followed, trailing a few feet behind him down the path.

It was a long, hot journey, but at midday we were , standing in a grove of cottonwood trees fifty yards from the Turlock wall. The gate to Bridewell was now safely in the distance, and looking overhead, I could see that several hawks were patrolling the area from above, dodging a storm of white floating fluff from the trees. As I stood catching my breath with Darius, I saw rustling under the brush in the distance, a zing of gray, then more rustling. I "Ah, here he comes. Not much good for sleuthing, but a nice fellow still the same," said Darius. We watched as the formless gray ball of fur continued to weave in and out of view. After a while it became clear that it was a , rabbit darting toward us between hiding places in the 113.

undergrowth. It was taking quite a long time for him to find his way to us.

"Will you please stop the secret spy routine and get over here!" Darius cried. "You'll make us all late." For a moment there was no movement at all.

"Is that you, Darius?" came a tiny, uncertain voice from somewhere in the thicket.

"Yes, it's me, the big wolf come to eat the helpless bunny. The longer you take getting over here, the hungrier I get," said Darius.

A gray head topped with floppy ears popped up about twenty yards away. "Coming!" said the rabbit with great exuberance, and he was standing at my feet a few seconds later.

"No need to get hostile," chided the rabbit, who I took to be Malcolm. "Ah, but I see you've got the girl, and on time. Nicely done."

"All in a day's work for someone on his own," said Darius. He became quiet and looked at Malcolm with a terrible sadness. "Have you any word from Odessa and Sherwin?"

"Stop your pouting it's pathetic for a creature of your size. This will all be over before you know it, Darius.

Trust me," said Malcolm. "Now, how about a proper introduction?"

Darius growled and then introduced me. Malcolm held out his foot in an effort to shake my hand. He said it was human custom to shake, and he wanted to make me 114.

feel at home. I bent down, took his furry gray foot between my thumb and forefinger, and awkwardly bobbed it up and down a few times. Malcolm chuckled nervously and we both looked at Darius, who rolled his eyes. I laughed, and for the first time I felt a little less like a guest outside the wall, and a little more like these might actually be my friends.

Darius and Malcolm huddled together and talked while I relieved myself behind a tree. This produced a whole new conversation about when to go to the bathroom, where to go to the bathroom, and whether or not one should cover up when finished.

After several minutes of arguing, Darius said, "I suggest we continue this conversation when we have more time. Though I will concede Malcolm's views on marking trees over rocks make a compelling argument."

Malcolm looked up at me and I nodded my readiness to move on.

"I'll go straight to see Yipes and tell him of our progress. He will be pleased to hear you've come this far," said Darius. Then, with a slight bow of his head, he added, "Malcolm, always a great pleasure. Take care of our girl now, and tell everyone I'm doing fine." Then he walked off, and I was left with nothing to protect me but a smiling ball of fur with poor scouting skills. I felt suddenly alone and missed my father and friends back in Bridewell. I think I even missed Pervis, or at least the morbid comfort of his rude behavior.

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"You've grown some from what I was told about your size. It must have been quite a squeeze getting down that tunnel over at Lathbury," said Malcolm. "The next one's not so bad."

"The next one?" I said.

"Sure, the next one. Didn't Darius tell you? We've got a big meeting over in the forest tonight. Lots to discuss." We walked -- or, I should say, I walked and Malcolm hopped toward the Turlock wall. We arrived at an odd - looking hole surrounded by stone on all sides. It was slanted at an angle, and it looked as though it ran under the wall.

"This is a strange-looking tunnel, Malcolm," I said.

"That's because animals didn't make it. Humans did, and humans are always doing things in very strange ways. No offense to you, of course." He seemed fl.u.s.tered now that he'd said it, as if he wished he could take it back.

"No offense taken," I offered.

"This is a culvert," Malcolm continued. "They appear every few miles along the walls. In the springtime the water runs off the mountain and then through these tunnels to Fenwick Forest and out into The Dark Hills, where it creates something of a marshland in the early months of spring."

Malcolm went on to explain that the culverts were encased in stone, running down five feet under the huge stone blocks of the buried part of the wall, then gradually rising back up into Fenwick Forest and The Dark Hills.

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Malcolm easily fit inside. I followed and found that it was a very tight fit. I could move slowly forward on my belly, but the stone walls of the culvert were all around me and it was rough going all the way. I continually grazed my shoulders and elbows along the walls. This tunnel descended faster, leveled out, and then began to rise again slowly, presumably on the other side of the wall. Pretty soon I saw light streaming down, and shortly after that we were outside again in an open field. We were in Fenwick Forest.

"Who are Odessa and Sherwin?" I asked, turning my head to the side and shaking the dirt out of my hair.

Malcolm didn't answer at first, but then he stopped hopping and looked at me. "Odessa is Darius's wife and Sherwin is his son."

I knew there had to be more to the story, and soon Malcolm was telling it. "Darius was off hunting for several weeks," he explained. "They put the wall up so fast, and there were so many humans about, he got caught on the mountain side. Like so many animals, he's far too big to fit through a culvert, and there's no way to dig deep enough to go under the buried part of the wall. He can't walk around the wall, because both ends lead to jagged cliffs that drop off into The Lonely Sea. The water and walls keep them apart. He hasn't seen his family in quite some time."

I thought a moment, trying to consider the consequences of what Malcolm had said.

"Are there other stories like his?" I asked.

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He turned on the path and began hopping again, his floppy back feet kicking up tiny storms of dust as he went. "More than a few," he said.

We continued to make our way deeper into the woods. It was turning dark and cooling down. Fenwick Forest was vastly different from where I had just spent two days. The terrain around Mount Norwood had been far more open and arid, with tiny streams crisscrossing and connecting all over. Twenty minutes into our walk away from the wall put us deep in a forest of fir, pine, cottonwood, and aspen trees. The lush forest floor was alive and danced with shadows cast from an endless parade of swaying trees. As we approached early evening it was cool and peaceful. The sound of the trees moving in the wind high above seemed like a friendly traveling companion, calling us farther and farther into the depths of the forest.

As we walked, I kept thinking about the face of that suspicious man with the C on his forehead. How these men had escaped into The Dark Hills remained a biting question I couldn't get out of my mind.

I began to have a creepy sense that we were being watched and I started to hear what sounded like whispers all around me. I kept shaking the cobwebs loose from my head, trying to refocus, but the strange whispering sound persisted, and I reasoned that it was the wind in the trees playing tricks on me.

"Malcolm, do you hear anything strange?" I asked.

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Malcolm stopped and sniffed at the air with his front legs up. "Oh, yes, we've got quite a procession going already. You're famous, Alexa. Every animal within twenty miles is hiding behind a bush or a tree limb trying to get a peek at you."

Things were getting stranger all the time.

We wound through the forest for another five minutes and then came to a stop where the trail split off into 1 two directions, one straight ahead and one veering off to the left and down toward the Lunenburg wall; both were covered by a thick canopy of low-hanging tree branches.

"It looks like we've arrived, Alexa. Go on now, go straight ahead up that trail and don't stop until you see Ander."

"What's an Ander?" I asked.

"You mean who is Ander," chortled Malcolm. "Go on then you'll get all your questions answered once you reach the end of that path."

I did as I was told, too tired to complain or argue with a rabbit. A few minutes later the path widened into a circular area about forty feet wide, bordered by large rocks and dead tree trunks. The rocks and trees were covered with animals, more animals than I had ever seen before -- squirrels, rabbits, mountain lions, bears, wolves, beavers, badgers, porcupines, skunks, and a smattering of wildlife I could not identify from my own limited knowledge. It was a frightening sight, made worse by the swarm of whispering I continued to hear buzzing in my head.

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Straight ahead, right up the middle of all the animals, was a ferocious-looking grizzly bear. Its head was like a boulder on its ma.s.sive shoulders, and it swayed back and forth as the beast walked toward me. The whispering stopped. I was about to turn and run for my life when I spotted Yipes sitting on a rock to my right. I was so happy to see him again, I couldn't keep the big smile off my worn-out face. I read his lips as he mouthed the words "It's okay, stay calm."

The grizzly stopped so close in front of me that its wet nostrils sent a gentle wind through my hair. I looked down and saw where its enormous paws smashed the mossy green gra.s.s at my feet. It stood on four legs, its head a foot above my own. I knew from what I had read about grizzly bears that one quick swipe from his paw would break my bones and shred my skin. I remained perfectly still, breathing in and out in choppy waves.

"We have waited for you a long, long time, my dear," said the grizzly. His voice was deep, sorrowful, and slow in my head. He seemed old, though I had no idea how old by the looks of him. "I am Ander, the forest king, and I have a lot to tell you.

"Bring the food!" he commanded, and a parade of animals came out of the woods with offerings of nuts, fruits, and fresh water. "Now, let's sit down and have a nice long chat, shall we, Alexa?"

We walked to the center of the grove and sat down. I drank until I thought I would throw up, and then I pulled 120.

II.

some leftover meat out of my bag to eat with the nuts and the fruit.

"If you don't mind, Alexa, could you get by without the meat for now? Mixed company, you know. It sets them off." Ander looked around at all the animals. They were all staring at me with wide eyes, and some of the larger animals were dripping saliva and acting strange.

I put my food away and began eating a pear, which suited me fine. Ander proceeded to introduce me to a number of important animals in attendance.

I met Murphy, a lively squirrel who kept zipping back and forth and twirling around in circles after his name was called. It took a while to get him calmed down, and he continued doing backflips and whirling spins every time Ander introduced another animal. There was Beaker, a ; racc.o.o.n. Ander said he was "scientific for a c.o.o.n, a problem solver." A badger named Henry was complimented ; on his fierce fighting skills. Picardy was a beautiful female I black bear who had not seen her mate in a very long time; he had been off in the mountains looking for a den when the wall came rising into existence. I met Boone, a crafty bobcat, who often came up with outlandish ideas that, for , some unknown reason, actually worked most of the time. There was a quick and sneaky fox named Raymond, and a nervous woodchuck named Vesper. Chopper and Whip were an agreeable pair of buck-toothed beavers.

The sun was beginning to set and I was getting cold. It must have shown, because Ander took a break from his 121.

introductions to call Yipes over, who presented me with a blanket out of his pack. I draped it around my shoulders and curled my legs up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my knees. Soon it would be night, but for now dusk coated the grove with a soft blend of velvety gold and green. It was heavenly.

Ander finished the introductions with Odessa and Sherwin, the wife and son of Darius. Sherwin approached me cautiously, swaying his head back and forth. He was every bit the powerful beast his father was, but his features were more juvenile and his coat was a lighter shade of gray.

"You've met my father?" he questioned me.

"Yes, I've met Darius. He's impressive," I said. I felt a wave of compa.s.sion for Sherwin, wondering what it must be like to lose your father in such an unjust way. I added, "When did you last see him?"

"I don't remember ever seeing him. I was only a few months old when he was caught behind the wall, and by the time I was old enough to travel through the culvert I was already too large. I probably could have done it as a child, but I was too afraid. When I was smaller I thought many times about sneaking under to find him, but I never did. Now I'm so big I can barely get my head into the tunnel."

He paused and looked off toward the Turlock wall in the distance.

"At night, my father howls at me, and I howl back at him. We dream of hunting together and of he and my 122.