The woods felt different in the evening. Perhaps it was because, aside from the badger-watching in the early hours before the sun had even risen, it was the only time that Autumn and Erland had been in the woods when the sun wasn’t almost unbearably hot. It was still warm, very warm for the time of year, but there was enough of an edge - a coolness, a feeling of anticipation - to occasionally prickle the hairs on Autumn’s arms. Perhaps it wasn’t the weather at all, perhaps it was something else.
“Why don’t we see more of the peoples of the wood?” asked Autumn as they entered the Greenwood. “If they live here all the time, why haven’t we seen any yet?”
“Well,” said her dad, “they don’t want to be seen all the time. They’re very good at not being seen or heard. Besides, their woods are not the same as our woods.”
Autumn stared blankly at him. He smiled at her.
“Think of it as two pieces of tracing paper, one on top of the other. On one piece of paper are the woods that we know, the woods that we’re walking through now. On another, are the woods that the peoples of the wood live in. They both take up the same space, but they’re different. Sometimes, you can see or hear - maybe feel, or experience, is a better way of putting it? - the other, but you can’t get there unless the circumstances are just right.”
“What are those circumstances?” asked Erland. “Can we go there?”
“It is very rare for anyone to go to the other woods,” smiled their mum, “but never say never.”
They were just passing the tree with the carved message, I can hear you, when their dad stopped suddenly.
“What’s the…” began their mum, but their dad held up his hand, putting his fingers to his lips.
He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, and tipped his head to one side slightly, as if he was straining to hear something. Autumn did the same. She thought she almost caught something, but it slipped away. It was like the whispering and the music she’d heard before, but this time there was something else. Another quality to it. An urgency.
Her dad opened his eyes, exchanging a glance with their mum. He looked serious, and their mum looked worried.
“This way,” he said, and started walking quickly down the path to the Rune Tree. They hurried after him. No-one said anything.
Autumn felt nervous. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the way her dad was behaving, but she felt a shiver run through her body. Something was wrong.
They reached the Rune Tree and Autumn glanced around. Something definitely felt different. It was as if the woods were waiting, as if they knew something was going to happen.
Her dad slowly walked round the tree, counting the runes in the circle around the base of the trunk. At the opposite side of the tree to them he paused, absentmindedly running his hand through his hair as he often did when he was worried about something or working something out. He raised his head and looked at them.
“One of the rune stones is gone,” he said.
