home

search

Chapter Twelve: A Bar in the Woods

  The zebra trees that once completely surrounded Maddy, petered out and then, all at once, completely disappeared. A large dirt road was trampled down by large pawprints and the occasional human-looking foot emerged from the center of the clearing.

  The last zebra tree waved its billowy leaves goodbye at Maddy and he did the same, his wrist twisting from side to side like the rusty Tin Man, hands stiff from the cold Autumn air. The path beneath him solidified and paved the longer he walked. Small houses, no taller than one story lined his view. They weren't in the best condition, most were made of wood and looked like modern farmhouses, but every now and then he'd spot something unusual. A bright green house the color of emerald with a red roof. An all-brick house with an orange roof similar to the highlighters he used in school.

  Dutch. Maddy deduced. They looked Dutch.

  The main street ended up replaced by a cul-de-sac with houses that were much grander than the ones he had passed previously. Maddy hummed and pressed his lips into a frown. He looked around once and then again. The roads were empty and there didn't seem to be any sounds of life. He looked at the small bunch of trees between the two houses. They looked more common than their zebra-colored cousins; these were the usual brown-colored bark and green spindly needles.

  "Hello, I'm a little lost. Can you help me?" He asked and waited.

  The trees did not budge. He waited another moment before deciding that, like people, not every tree wants to talk. He was going to give his buzzing magic fingers thing another shot when just beyond the foliage his nose gave a twitch and he could hear the distant chatter of people. His stomach gurgled and his fingers curled withing the pocket of his hoodie. Where there were people, there was bound to be food, warm food hopefully. Maddy walked through the gap.

  He wasn't expecting to end up in a bar, or an inn, or whatever these Folk called it in Nellz. It had the same likeness as the other bright-colored houses he had passed. This one, however, was at least three stories tall and twice as wide.

  The structure came straight out of the seventeenth century with a rounded roof like a barn that got its design inspiration from mushrooms, stalls filled with fresh yellow straw and a couple of dappled horses, and a giant oak door. But it was the faulty neon lights bolted to the side of the building that broke the ancient illusion. Two beer pitchers failed to clink together. Their lights murmured in the late morning sun.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  His head lifted and quirked as he saw hanging on the second-floor rafters a poorly painted sign. It was so faded and chipped that what once was a vibrant red was now bleached pink. There had been dents in the wood as well, as if patrons from inside, angry at the world had taken out their frustration on the poor sign.

  Black swirls and shapes made Maddy squint. It was clear the word-or words- weren't English, but his brain had a funny way of making some letters look familiar. One line and swoop looked like a backward lowercase "R" and another one a "C" with a few too many dots around it like a cluster of constellations.

  He blew a raspberry, feeling silly. It wasn't like he was going to magically be able to read if he stared long enough. He pressed his lips closer together. Then again, it wasn't an impossible thought either. Magic worked in mysterious ways and maybe a spell or a potion could make him read the foreign language.

  He shook his head and pushed open the door, as the two clashing eras of the building battled inside his head. Maddy wasn't sure if all places in Nellz were like this or if this had been some kind of themed bar. It was definitely going in the question bank, the next time he saw Greyson.

  The first thing that hit him was the smell. The intoxicating scent of strawberries made his nose twitch and brought up unwarranted thoughts of Greyson and his thumb rubbing his bottom lip. Beer and sage invaded his scenes next and they were doing a bad job of covering the heavy scent of musk, sweat, and .

  Women and men sat and chatted boisterously in groups around wooden tables, in little booths hidden from the dimly lit chandelier lights that hung high above him, or at the large rectangular tables in the center of the room with one long bench on either side of it.

  Almost every spot was filled up. And almost immediately, everyone in those spots stopped their chatter and looked over at Maddy.

  Before he could even utter a hello, there was a soft command spoken from one of the hidden booths, and within seconds he was thrashed to the side. His head and shoulder hit the wooden flooring, with a heavy crash. He could feel his skin breaking as a boot pressed against his face and his arms were pinned to his back.

  Anger and pain roared through him. This was like the woods all over again. Except Greyson wasn’t here to rescue him. The noose around his heart thrummed. And he let a growl escape his lips as he tried to explain he meant no harm, but his head was throbbing and it seemed none of them spoke English.

  Walking casually through the front door was a bad idea. A very bad idea. The trees weren't trying to help him, they were sending him to his death. He was going to die here. Worse, was going to get ripped apart. Greyson had tried to warn him about Wolf Folk, but he refused to accept it. Not with Bill being as kind as he was. He must have been the exception.

Recommended Popular Novels