KERRICK

      At first, Kerrick fought to remain inside his body and not spread throughout the forest. He concentrated on the vines growing on him. On the moist earth cushioning his body. On the dirt wedged under his fingernails.

      Then he struggled to hear the wind shake the tree’s limbs. The call of the birds. The rasp of air filling his lungs.

      He inhaled the scent of wood smoke. The mist of pine. The faint aroma of vanilla.

      Jolted by that smell, he clung to it. Memories flowed. Promises remembered. He pulled the scent toward his core, anchoring his consciousness to his body. Now he perceived touch, sounds, and smells all at the same time. Progress.

      Other sensations intruded. Hunger. Thirst. Cold. Aches.

      He awoke. Heart-shaped leaves obscured part of his vision. Sunlight flashed between them as they danced in the breeze. Kerrick tried to brush them away, but he couldn’t move. After a bit of wiggling, he discovered the vines not only blanketed him but held him tight.

      Stretching his senses, he reached for his connection with the living green. Except it wasn’t there. Well, not the way he remembered it. Before, it required effort for him to draw magic from the forest. It was a conscious decision to form a link. Now there was no need to tap into the power. It already resided within him.

      With a mere thought, he commanded the vines to release him. A ripping sound accompanied multiple stings of pain along his skin. As the vines retreated, cold air caressed his body, sending ripples of goose bumps.

      Kerrick sat up. His stiff muscles protested. His pants had been destroyed by the roots. Blood welled from a number of throbbing cuts along his torso, arms, and legs. The vines’ roots had left creases on his brown-and-green skin. He held his hands out. They, too, matched the colors of the forest. His survival instinct had probably kicked in when he passed out, camouflaging him from danger. He’d worry about it later.

      He rubbed the ache at the back of his neck. Had he collapsed or had someone knocked him out? Memories swirled through a thick fog.

      Slowly the events that had led to his current situation assembled. Seeing Flea. The fight with Tohon’s dead ufas. Cellina and Sepp. The attack on Quain. Avry!

      With a surge of energy, Kerrick stood, but he leaned against a tree as dizziness threatened to topple him. He needed food and water. How long had he been out?

      He sniffed the cool air. Crisp and sharp, it no longer held the humid earthy scent of summer. A few red, yellow, and orange leaves littered the ground. Early fall. Panicked, he pushed through his jumbled thoughts, searching for answers.

      Avry had stabbed Tohon. He smiled. That’s my girl. Flea had awoken Quain. And some sergeant had nicked him with a blade treated with...Death Lily toxin. Memories of being sick made him queasy anew. Kerrick sank to a sitting position.

      Had he died? Was he dead? A ghost of the forest? He dismissed that silly notion. He hurt too much to be deceased. But how did he survive? Avry? No, she’d be with him. Plus she couldn’t heal those infected with Death Lily toxin.

      And then he remembered the voice of the living green. Had it saved him?

      No, the living green said in his mind.

      Then who? he asked.

      You did.

      How?

      Your magic.

      But my magic doesn’t work that way. And the living green had never spoken to him before he’d gotten sick.

      Mirth. No voice that you’d understand.

      But now I can.

      Yes.

      Why?

      You are of the forest.

      But I’m alive.

      Yes. Alive like trees and plants.

      Kerrick’s temples pounded. Definitely alive. But how much time had passed? The living green showed him a tree’s small growth—its measure of time, but not helpful.

      Concentrating on his immediate needs, Kerrick pushed all his other concerns aside for now. First he found edible berries, roots, and nuts with ease. A stream nearby quenched his thirst. As for clothing, Kerrick decided to stay camouflaged until he could slip back into the infirmary cave. He’d left his pack and the rest of his clothing with Avry.

      Avry. He remembered her emotional reaction to their reunion. She had thought he’d died fighting the northern tribesmen, and then when he’d been poisoned she’d kept him at arm’s length most of the night.

      Did she believe he’d died again? He hoped not. Hurrying northeast, Kerrick noted the location of the various patrols and avoided them. He had awoken much farther from the cave than he recalled. As he drew closer, he slowed. No one guarded the front entrance. Not good.

      He looped around to the back. Deserted, as well. Waiting proved difficult, but he didn’t want to walk into an ambush. Well, not naked and unarmed.

      After an hour with no signs of activity, he stepped from the forest. Or rather, he tried. A force dragged him to a stop. Pouring every ounce of strength into his legs, he managed a couple more steps. But his feet acted as if they’d grown roots and he stumbled to another halt.

      The pull to remain in the forest was like no other he’d encountered. It felt as if an invisible net had been thrown over him and tied to a tree’s trunk. Perhaps it was the living green’s way of warning him. He drew power and the force eased. Odd. He stepped closer to the cave, but the force increased. More magic meant more distance.

      Not stopping to analyze it, Kerrick gathered as much power as he could and sprinted. He had enough energy to confirm the cave had been abandoned and to find the message from Flea.

      Weak and drained, he crawled from the cave toward the forest. Each inch a relief until he collapsed just past the border.

      As he lay panting and spent, he’d realized he hadn’t needed to use his magic to find food or to locate the soldiers. That had required no effort. Unlike leaving the forest, which required a feat of strength and considerable endurance.

      The living green’s comment repeated in his mind.

      You are of the forest.