We ran for the moonlit shadows. I tossed my walking stick to the side as soon as I stepped onto the darkened ground. It would be more of a hindrance than a help up in a tree. Besides, the days of relative rest had helped my hip heal quicker. It was yellowing and would hold my weight as long as I didn’t take any hits there.

I stomped my foot into the odd pine’s shadow. It wasn’t the time for experiments. Quick and dirty or we might be too late to help Juniper with whatever she was screaming about. Blinking away disorientation that always came with slipping into the shadow paths, I ignored the swirling smoke and latched onto the feeling of the tree’s shadow stretching into the distance. But rather than bridging the small gap at its end to the other bi-colored pine in the clearing I reached further.

Farther.

Yellow and green needles rustling over open air. Brushing against smooth golden glass. Crumbling gray stone. A gray-brown trunk curving upwards. Proud, unbroken. Roots digging into stone without care for the natural way of things. The fresh scent of pine thick on a light breeze. Goddess grown.

Detail upon detail I added to the mental image. More detail—more time—than I liked before the path finally caught between the two shadows, even with them trying to connect. I tied the path in place with a mental twist.

I couldn’t sprint but I strode down the shadow path as quick as I could. Stomped my heel through the new shadow as soon as I felt it under my feet.

The scent of pine and…charred wood overwhelmed everything else. One foot started to slip off the new rounded surface beneath my feet. I grabbed for the nearest branch and hung on. Juniper’s screams were much closer now and coming from above me.

Goddess grown didn’t always mean a tree stayed goddess touched.

That was the realization that shoved the last of my disorientation away.

Light wood streaked down the pine’s bark—marking a path where lightning had scarred and cracked it open. The strike could have happened during the last storm I ran out in or the various ones that must have covered the sky since Fern last did this test with her group. Either way the pine was no longer the proud thing I had pictured. What it still could pretend to be from a distance.

I had stepped out of the shadows near the tree’s roots. Even in the shadowy dark, I could make out a few scorch marks on the stone around the trunk. Some of it had crumbled away, leaving the roots exposed or unattached. Not enough for the tree’s weight to pull it free from where it was anchored into the statue, but enough that it was only a matter of time between weather damage and the tree’s growth, if it grew.

The tree groaned quietly as someone else stepped from the shadows higher up in the branches. There was already some other movement up there, someone talking. I forced my attention away from the roots and crumbling stone, and began to carefully climb.

It didn’t take me long to realize what Juniper was yelling about.

A third of the upper part of the tree was starting to peel away from the rest along the lightning’s wound. Juniper had the misfortune of appearing from the shadows in that dangerous, teetering section. She clung to the bottom of a branch, arms and legs wrapped tightly around it, unable to move herself to safety without risking that the last bit of wood holding the tree together would pull free.

Fern had stepped out of the shadows before me. She was already on the sturdy branches below Juniper, trying to reach up to grab her, but Juniper was out of reach. Fern tried to reason with Juniper, but she wasn’t making much progress.

Surprisingly, Nii was the person who had exited the pine’s shadow after me. Part of me hoped that the others took a bit longer to make their paths or couldn’t make it. I wasn’t sure the tree could support all the additional weight and it was a long fall to the ground.

As it was, though, the three of us didn’t have a lot of good options when it came to rescuing Juniper. Fern was the tallest and couldn’t reach her, my short height wasn't going to make a difference. Someone could climb up on Fern’s shoulders, but that would be more likely to send everyone tumbling than the chance of the rescue attempt working. If anyone tried to climb onto the section Juniper was clinging to then both would be in free fall after the trunk finished splitting.

Really, our best option was for Juniper to save herself. The bottom of the slim branch she clung to was covered in shadow. If she just focused she could force her way into it and make a path back to the clearing. That wasn’t something I thought she’d ever have a problem with until now.

At the realization that Juniper could do more for herself than any of us could a lot of my anxiety quieted down. Annoyance set in as I actually tuned into what she was screaming. It was a lot of ‘help me’ and ‘do something’ and ‘I can’t’ with a few ‘it’s too high’ mixed in. Part of me struggled to reconcile this blubbering girl with the stoic one I had first met in the Seedling Palace until Juniper demanded Fern to get her down.

It was quite simple really.

Juniper was a sheltered tribe leader’s daughter with an apparent fear of heights. She delegated, she observed, she ordered. But she had little practical knowledge. Everything she knew was secondhand. Oh, she had the pearl and her blessing, and those had probably helped her pretend like she had earned her position in the tribe. But she didn’t know how to fight, she fell apart as soon as she wasn’t the priority. Juniper was quick to cover her mistakes, to project her authority, but she could do little for herself.

She always had others to do those things for her.

Idra and Ento weren’t so quick to jump between her and a threat just because it was their duty. They did it because, if they didn’t, she was as dead as a fish in a trap. Her special power with the pearl was slow to activate and she had likely been protected from any true danger since birth. She didn’t have the honed instincts to protect herself.

She hadn’t neglected to mention the crawler’s ability to deflect piercing attacks out of some devious plan. That likely was common knowledge among the huntresses in her tribe—so common, in fact, that they neglected to mention it during her lessons. Instead, Juniper learned that they did cutting attacks against the creatures and had no reason to question why or experience the truth for herself until we fought one.

Juniper was as strong as the support system around her.

And, now, with her bodyguards in another group miles away and her expectations being undermined, she didn’t have much a support system to speak of. Her mask of authority was cracked, her air of calm strength shattered. There wasn’t a thing she could say to change the current predicament she found herself in.

I wanted the normal Juniper I knew back. She had been one of the few tolerable people in our cohort.

I climbed up in the tree so that I was near Fern and Nii. I spoke to the one who could hit anything she aimed at. “Hit her in the nose.”

Nii scowled at me. “With what? And why?”

I gestured dismissively. “A sling stone, a pine cone, I don’t care. I doubt it’ll shock her enough to let go, but it should help her out of the panic.”

Fern gave me a stern look. “If she falls…”

“You catch her and pull her into the shadow paths. Or, if that fails, Nii can pin her to a branch with her knife and we get to her before she falls more.”

Fern cast an appraising glance at Nii.

Nii answered her unspoken question. “I don’t miss.”

The tree groaned and shuddered for a moment as someone else stepped from the shadows. Wren. She higher up than us, on the part of the tree still solidly attached to the trunk. Chirp was with her, but that wasn’t a surprise. Her practice had been focused on the ability to bring the bird with her.

He winged his way down past us as Wren asked, “Did you find her?”

I pointed at Juniper and said, “We better hurry.”

Nii nodded and flicked the tiny pebble she had pulled from a pouch at Juniper. She gasped in pain as it struck her solidly on the nose, but Juniper didn’t release her hold on the branch. She did stop her blubbering long enough to stare at Nii.

I took advantage of that moment. “I thought you were going to prove that you weren’t weak.”

Juniper tore her attention away from Nii. “I-I’m stuck.”

I wanted to cross my arms, but didn’t trust my balance enough to let go of the branch I was holding onto. I settled for rolling my eyes. “No, you’re not. You shadow walked to get yourself there. Now shadow walk back to the clearing.”

Juniper swallowed. “I can’t. I can’t kick in the shadow.”

Oh, for storm’s sake. “You don’t need to do that. You can will yourself into the paths.”

Fern caught Juniper’s indecision and added her authority behind what I was saying. “Gimley’s correct. Touching the shadow is enough.”

Juniper drew in a long, deep breath and closed her eyes. She was quietly focused for about half a minute before she gave up.

“It doesn’t want to let me in!”

I didn’t know what the shadows felt like to Juniper, but I knew how easy the transition had felt when I forced the picture of a pool of water in my mind’s eye and Juniper likely had even more experience with water than I did.

“Picture the entrance of the shadow paths as a pool of water. Sink into it.”

“The shadow is above me!”

I lost what little patience I had left. “It’s called imagination! Use it!” And then, after I took calming breath, “Either you enter the shadow paths or you let go and hope that Fern catches you.”

“You can do it!” Wren tried to be encouraging.

Fern gave Juniper a look that said she better try entering the shadow paths again before she risked both their safety. Nii just watched and kept her hand on her knife.

Juniper closed her eyes again and lifted her head so that her forehead touched the bark. We watched in tense silence as she focused.

One heartbeat, two…

Nine heartbeats later Chirp zipped back through the branches, twittering as loud as he could.

At eleven heartbeats Juniper slipped into shadow.

“Let’s hope she can make the path back,” Fern said. She looked up at Wren. “What’s your bird saying?”

Branches snapped below us before there was the sound of impact and someone grunted. The tree groaned again. I tried to peer through the needles at who it was, but a branch blocked my view.

“He says—”

“Who’s there? Are you alright?” Fern cut Wren off.

“Fine.” That was Breck’s voice.

Fern was about to say something else but Wren broke in this time, voice raised and shaking, “Chirp says that the corpse gorger is already more than halfway up the statue! It must of been drawn by Juniper’s screams.”

Fern cursed and then ordered, “Everyone go back to the clearing. Now.”

I almost did as she said before I remembered a critical detail. Everyone had run for the shadows. But not everyone had made it through yet.

Ulo wasn’t here. Which meant that either she had failed to make a path and was waiting for everyone to return in the clearing, or she was still in the shadow paths trying to make one. My bet was on the latter, and if that was true, we couldn’t contact her to tell her that Juniper was already safe, that the tree was on its last legs, that the corpse gorger was closing in to eat whoever it could find.

Someone needed to stay to warn her in case she came through.

My mouth tasted sour as I spoke, “I’m the best choice.”

Nii, Wren, and Chirp were already gone. It sounded like Breck was climbing up rather than leaving.

Fern let out a long suffering sigh. “For what?”

“You’re planning on staying to warn Ulo, right? I’m the better choice.” She looked ready to cut me off, so I started listing reasons. “I can’t die. I’m lighter—this tree is about ready to pull itself into free fall. I…”

I trailed off as someone stumbled out of the trunk of the tree and into me. For one blind second I hoped it was Ulo, just so that we could all get out of this death trap, but then I recognized Juniper’s high bun and rolled up pant leg. She started to slip off the branch, so I hooked an arm around the younger girl even as I tensed at the contact. My hip was grateful that she hadn’t shoved me into another branch.

Then I stared at her, completely lost for words, before another thought had me looking back up at Fern. “You can take another person through the shadows. I can’t.”

Juniper dropped her head onto my shoulder. “I…couldn’t find the other trees.”

Fern cursed under her breath again before lowering herself down to the branch I was on. She pulled Juniper from me.

“You’ll actually warn her?”

My jaw set. “I don’t leave people to die.”

“And what happens when she doesn’t listen to you?”

We could hear a sucking sound now that had to be the corpse gorger. I pointed straight down. “She better listen to that.”

Breck reached us, scratched on one cheek but otherwise seemingly uninjured. “And if not, she’ll listen to me.”

Fern and I spoke over one another.

“I can’t risk two people to warn one.”

“You weigh too much. I can handle this myself.”

Breck didn’t look offended at my comment, but she did address it. “It doesn’t matter what I weigh. As soon as that monster reaches the tree the whole thing is going to pull loose.”

“You just want to fight it,” I accused.

Breck nodded. “Some day, but I know my limits. I’m not skilled enough yet to take it down.”

“Then why?” Fern asked.

Breck tilted her head to the crumbling wall of stone behind us. “This isn’t a difficult climb for me. If we don’t make it into the shadows or onto the top of the statue before the tree falls, then someone has to get us there. Better than falling to our deaths.”

Sure, as long as the corpse gorger didn’t get us.

Its wet, gnashing, sucking sounds kept getting closer.

“Fine.” Fern pulled Juniper a little closer to her. “Fine! If Ulo’s in the clearing we’ll send up a flare. If you get trapped on the statue…we’ll figure something out.”

With that she disappeared into the shadows surrounding us with Juniper.

Breck and I looked at each other, and I wasn’t comforted at all to see excitement shining in the normally aloof girl’s eyes.

She smiled. “Maybe this will be another story to tell around the fire.”