CHAPTER FOUR [indica]
The sun scrambled across the scorching sapphire sky as Nell, Byron and Ozzy scattered madly into the woods in all directions at once. North, west, south and east they fled, up into the sky and down into the depths of the earth. They dispersed into fragments, and it took them a while to piece themselves back together again.
Byron was relieved to discover that he hadn’t strayed too far from the river. After several minutes of following his ears he found it again, and after that he clung to the riverbank to a moth to a lamp.
Follow me, the rushing river promised him, and I’ll get you to Marauder’s Cove.
The forest’s shadows were lengthening. Byron shoved his hands into his pockets and picked up his pace. For am moment he found himself wishing that Ozzy and Nell were with him–
No, the river reassured him, with its lazy currents and its gentle, ceaseless murmuring. It’s better this way.
***
Ozzy, meanwhile, found himself in a faraway part of the woods where the trees all had faces, leering gargoyle grins and deep dark owl-holes for eyes. He fetched up against a pale birch to catch his breath…
That was when he heard the voices. His heart leapt — Byron? Nell? He started eagerly forward and soon the trees parted and he found himself on a coiling gravel path.
He squinted.
Something was coming down the path toward him. Through the rippling veil of high-summer heat waves it looked like an elephant, a great hulking beast tromping along the path.
What?
Ozzy blinked. That can’t be right. He blinked again, and the heatwaves parted like diaphanous curtains, the elephant blurring and resolving into a pair of human beings, a boy and a girl. Teenagers, like Ozzy. Both skinny and lanky, with unkempt sandy hair. They must’ve been siblings.
Ozzy stood and waited for them to reach him.
“What brings you to this crossroads?” the boy said as he and the girl came into hearing range. “You look a little young to be out here on your own. How old are you?”
Ozzy frowned, and the feeling of relief at seeing the strangers flickered, like a candle flame about to be snuffed out. “Old enough,” he said. He glanced around, but there was only the one gravel path loping impishly through the trees.
He turned back to the sandy-haired siblings. “What do you mean, crossroads? I don’t see any–”
The boy laughed. “It’s more a notion than an actual place, you know? The Crossroads. With a capital C. It’s all around you. Everywhere you go.” He made a wide gesture as though to encompass the entire woods. “It’s getting late, eh? There must be somewhere you’re hoping to be before dark.”
Ozzy shrugged. Strangely enough, it took a moment for him to remember where he’d been going in the first place. Marauder’s Cove? The notion of a place called Marauder’s Cove was so far off, dripping with that viscous amber vagueness that tends to gather in the dead of summer.
“I’d ask you the same question.” Ozzy spoke languidly, pleased with how shrewd he sounded. “I’m Ozzy, by the way. What’s your names?”
The sandy-haired boy laughed again. “I’m Meg,” said the girl. “This is my twin brother Jack. We’re on a bit of a quest.”
“Ooh,” said Ozzy. “What quest?”
Jack and Meg shared a glance. Then Meg leaned toward Ozzy, lowered her voice, and spoke very, very softly:
“We’re looking for Summer Haze.”
“Summer Haze?” Ozzy echoed. “You mean — ?”
“The legendary. The one and only.” Meg leaned back and smiled slywise. “Summer Haze. Grown in the heart of the wilderness by an immortal shaman whose ultimate goal is to bring about everlasting world peace. Absolutely caked in THC crystals, with an unmistakeable scent, like mint and skunk and citrus and Chai tea. You feel its effects almost immediately — first in your fingertips, and then in the back of your head, and then…” She trailed off meditatively.
For a moment Ozzy couldn’t think of what to say. Nell… Then he puffed out his chest. Tipped his head back. “You know what?” he said. “I know someone who has it.”
Jack and Meg spoke in unison. “You do?”
“Yeah!” Ozzy nodded emphatically. In his mind’s eye loomed the towering sequoia, three slender shadows taking refuge beneath it. A guitar that could have grown straight from the soil, festooned in moss and vines. He turned on his heel, started walking along the gravel trail. “I’m not sure where she is right now. But I have a feeling I know where she will be, soon.”
He looked back at Jack and Meg, and forced a grin he didn’t feel. “Come on!”
***
It took a while for Nell to come to her senses. She hid in an orchard of apple trees, and busied herself with setting off the firecrackers she’d been keeping in her jacket. The pops and bangs and sizzling crackles echoed through the trees, and calmed her spiking heart rate.
In time, though, she ran out of firecrackers. She smoked another joint to herself and let the gentle swish and rustle of the foliage lull her into a reverie. When she woke the shadows had lengthened, and one of them was stealing through the trees toward her.
She sat bolt upright. It took her a moment to figure out what she was looking at. An old lady — a crone, hunched, stooped, milky-eyed, her head covered in wispy snowy hair. She was dressed in burlap rags, and came to a halt several feet in front of Nell.
For a good long moment they simply stared at each other.
“Hello,” said Nell blankly. What can you see? she wondered, gazing into the crone’s fogged over eyes.
“Hello?” The crone’s voice was weak and tremulous. “Are you… are you the one who’s going to help me?”
Nell rose slowly to her feet. She knew to be wary of old people. The dangerous ones often looked the most harmless, until you looked too close.
“I guess so,” she said.
“I’ve lost something, you see,” the crone murmured. “Something important. Very dear to me. A guitar. They stole it.”
“Who stole it?”
“Banshees. Hobgoblins.” The crone’s voice became spiteful. “Little bastards have had it out for me ever since the Long Twilight began, all those years ago.” Then her tone softened. “You are young, my dear. I know it. You have not yet made he acquaintance of the Long Twilight. But… perhaps you’ve seen a guitar?”
Nell nodded. “Of course I have.” Hesitantly she stepped forward, reached out a hand. The crone’s withered bony fingers slipped into hers.
“Come with me,” Nell whispered. “Everything’s gonna be the way it’s supposed to. I promise.”
J. Herrera Kamin 