Qura was the first one who saw that the dead branches were not bare.
Ribbons wound around from trunk to tip, here hanging loose, there spanning branches, all dyed in several rare colors. Attached to the tree by the ribbons were stones painted to look like plucked eyeballs. And hanging centered within the tree’s gnarled crown, a deerskull and its antlers and a bone-framed window of colored glass.
Just like the stories said.
“What a bunch of hosers,” Dinet said, coming up behind Qura. He shucked off his pack and dug out a waterskin. The rabbits strung along the outside of the pack crunched softly on the thin crust of snow. “These kids, eh? Think they’re funny, but really they’re just little vandals. Too much time on their hands, that’s the problem these days, eh?”
In the wind, the window of bone swayed back and forth, twisting from its hook. The great staring eye in the center turned its gaze, first here, then there. The scrape of antler against bark was like a footstep in an empty house.
“Let’s head back,” Qura said. “We have enough for dinner. The sun is drawing low.”
Dinet slurped from his waterskin and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Are you quacky? We’ve only got two rabbits for six folk. And my eye says the sun’s got two hours left to trek, one more than we do. So unless you’re raising your hand to skip meat tonight…”
Beyond the dead tree with its markings, the forest changed, grew tall and thick, its canopy dark with needles that even in winter didn’t die. Qura crossed her arms against a wind that chilled more than the body.
“No wiggling way! You’re scared!” Dinet hooked a thumb at the ill-strewn tree. “You actually believe in those nursery rhymes? ‘Beware the spooky woods, child, oh so dark and deep, or caught you’ll be by the f—”
“Don’t say it!” Qura shouted. She covered her mouth with her hand.
Dinet bellowed with laughter.
The rays of the falling sun passed through the twisting many-colored window hanging in the tree, and danced madly on the ground’s stiff snow.
“Please Dinet, let’s go. You can have my share of meat tonight. You can tell everyone at camp that I was being such a fool, such a silly girl. You can do whatever you like. Please.”
Dinet donned his pack with a grunt. “You’re a real loon sometimes, Qura. A real easy mark. The kids that did this? I bet they’re watching you right now, up in one of those neverdead trees. Laughing like crazy.”
Dinet crunched loudly toward the black wood. The window of bone, the eye of glass, turned to follow him. Qura grabbed his arm to pull him back. He shoved her away.
“Hey, hosers!” Dinet shouted. He was a hundred feet from Qura, standing alone among the unbending pines. “Only little waddlers and Quacky Qura here are scared of feyspidra, don’t you know? How about you do some work for a change and help gather dinner, eh? Play time’s over!”
Qura clutched herself tight as the wind rose to a rage, whistling though the holes of the deerskull, sending the ribbons into a frenzy. The window and the eye strained, pointing squarely at Dinet.
From the darkened woods, he looked back at her and held his arms out wide with a happy laugh. “Nobody home!”
Only Qura saw the snare of colored ribbon slip around his ankle. Only Qura saw it draw taut and lift him, feet-first, into the canopy of darkness and out of sight.