The rising sun was tinting the eastern sky the pale pink of a salmon’s belly by the time he reached the shrine.

His legs had added a chorus to the throbbing song in his head, but he had hardly noticed the climb.

He took a deep breath, awed by the sight of the ancient forest dipped in pink above the soft swirls of the morning mist.

The monoliths stood sentry as he walked toward the shrine, though he felt no peace now. He heard distant bells chiming in the breeze, and fainter, the trilling call of a flute.

A smoke-gray cat emerged from the deep blue shadows at the base of one monolith and hopped up on the ruins of a stone wall that stood near the path. It sat silently, tail wrapped around its feet, watching him with a pair of shimmering green eyes.

It was the same green as the mist he’d seen in the hotel hallway.

He took a step toward the cat, but it disappeared in a flash, leaping away behind the wall.

The fear in his gut returned.

He rushed down the rest of the path, and through the shrine into the courtyard. Unlike yesterday, he was the only one there. He slipped around the back and into the forest.

It was colder here beneath the trees, the damp mist rising all around him, blurring the woods’ sharp edges. He went slowly, trying desperately to remember which direction Megan had taken to the hollow tree. Thorns stabbed through his clothes as he walked. Long vines hidden in the undergrowth snagged at his ankles, and tree roots snaked across the marshy ground, protruding just enough to make him stumble.

Faces seemed to loom out of the swirling mist, only to dissolve when he turned to look. The smell of decaying leaves and damp earth surrounded him, the ground so soft in places that his boots sunk deep into the mud.

Trees curled up into the air like frozen smoke, their trunks eerily human in the haze, as if sculpted and forgotten. Their long branches reached for him as he pushed past.

Someone was watching him–he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, but when he looked back, he could see nothing except the mist-shrouded trees.

Even the shrine had disappeared.

He struggled on until he saw something nearly buried in the thick undergrowth.

That’s the table thing I saw yesterday. The ruins.

He was close now. Only there was no green jacket to point him in the right direction. He felt a stab of guilt at the thought of Megan.

I got you into this; I promise I’ll get you out of it.

He said a quick prayer to his grandmother, hoping she could hear him, and picked a direction, stumbling off as quick as he could.

Behind him, a crooked green figure slowly formed out of the mist, watching.

It smiled, showing a mouthful of jagged teeth.

Mine.

***

Vincent stood for a moment in hesitation, an acute wave of panic spilling over him as he remembered his mission to find his lost pendant. A strange, dull ache spread in the palm of his right hand where he had held the pendant like a worry stone as a boy. How would he ever find it in this maze of trees and undergrowth?

Foliage swayed before his eyes in strange patterns. Vincent dropped his head and rubbed his eyes. Suddenly a flash of green burned his eyes, and he felt hot breath on his face. He snapped his eyes open and saw Megan standing inches in front of him. She stared at him blankly as she cuddled the gray cat from their hotel room in her arms. The cat’s eyes narrowed and focused on Vincent with all the fire that Megan’s eyes lacked, then slowly dug its claws into Megan’s arms. Trails of welling blood snaked down her arms. Megan remained motionless, immune to the pain.

That cat again? The cat’s reappearance couldn’t be a coincidence. It seemed to shepherd Megan. A guide with no good intent.

You can’t have her. She’s not yours.

Vincent tried to take hold of the cat and pull its wiry body out of Megan’s arms. It leapt to the ground and stepped behind Megan toward the monoliths. Megan turned and followed it, her movements methodical, trancelike. The ache in Vince’s palm pulsed with a new intensity. He had no other option but to follow Megan.

They arrived at the monoliths sooner than Vincent had expected, as if the maze of forest had dissolved into a straight path to their destination. The gray cat had disappeared into the brush at some point in their journey that Vincent couldn’t pinpoint. Megan positioned herself between the two towering monoliths and dropped to her knees. She turned her palms upward and lifted her hands into the air, trickles of blood tracing patterns down her arms. She began to sway and chant in a language Vincent didn’t know, but felt as if he had heard in some forgotten dream. A mixture of grief and fear poured over him, and tears he hadn’t wept since his grandmother’s funeral filled his eyes.

“Megan!” he cried as he fell to his knees beside her. Her name became a chant of his own as he tried to clasp her raised arms. “Megan Megan Megan.”

Megan swayed out of his reach and continued chanting. Her words took on volume and force as if they had not yet reached the ears of the intended hearer.

Another flash of green blurred Vincent’s vision. Emerging from a haze was the gnarled figure of the green man he had encountered earlier in his search. The man now towered over Megan.

Megan’s chanting took on an ecstatic quality for a few moments and then suddenly stopped. She pulled her arms down and sat motionless. Then she bowed, stretching her arms towards the twisted brush that seemed to function as the figure’s feet. The green man smiled in approval and whispered, “Mine.”

Vince felt small, possessed, as if his whole life had transpired only to bring him to this moment. “It’s my fault we’re here,” Vincent said. “She doesn’t belong to this forest.” Vincent stammered, then found his voice. “She doesn’t belong to you!”

The green man locked eyes with Vincent. “Mine!” he snarled.

The voice was loud. A decayed wood smell filled his senses, insects ran along his face. He recoiled at the menacing figure, plopping onto his side away from the bright green gaze shooting toward him over Megan’s bowed head. Gravel dug into his elbow; sharp knives stabbed into the sensitive bones and punctured the skin. Gasping with pain, he watched long pointed fingers (branches, those are branches!) reach greedily toward Megan.

“NO!”

He pushed himself up and forward, fingers brushing the fabric of Megan’s shirt, flaking like birch bark as he also reached toward her, intending to gather her up and run when a solid burst of energy blew him back across the clearing. He landed against a tree trunk, pain bursting in his shoulder and neck. His head snapped into the rough bark and as his body slid to the ground, the world slipped sideways and grew dark. Just before losing consciousness, he saw the green tree-like figure stoop over Megan and lift her off the ground, barely visible as a misty outline.

Sometime later, Vincent blinked and stirred in the grass and moss at the edge of the clearing. He was aware of clammy dampness where his body connected with the ground. Wanting to get away from that feeling, he rolled over and groaned as his shoulder and neck flexed with the effort. He grayed out for a moment, ears ringing. Wondering if he was going to maintain consciousness, he gasped for air.

The world stopped spinning and as his vision settled into place; he realized the moon had come out. Long shadows reached across the clearing toward the monoliths where Megan had been. He already knew she was no longer there; he didn’t need the moonlight to show him that. Gathering his strength, he pulled himself upright and rested against the trunk that had knocked him out. He heard the night calls of insects and frogs all around him and saw stars twinkling over the clearing, between the branches of the trees, and down into the grass. He blinked and wiped at his eyes.

“No, that isn’t right,” he thought. He rubbed his eyes again. “Stars don’t twinkle on the ground - it must be a firefly but they shine sort of yellow-green that is white light almost silver–”

He shot out his hand before he finished the thought and scooped up the end of a silver chain, pulling his grandmother’s locket toward himself through the long grass.

“I found it! Gram, I found it!”

Sharp teeth and claws clamped on his hand. He cried out in shock and pain and dropped the chain. The gray cat hissed at him, picked up the locket, and ran toward the dark trees.

“No! Dammit, come back here!”

Vincent ran after the cat.

He watched it dodge a tree and leap up a series of rocks, each larger than the last, until it came to the top of the largest. It paused, glancing back at him, and jumped down on the other side.

Vincent scrambled up the rocks, determined to keep the cat in sight. When he got to the top of the largest stone, it surprised him to see a series of stairs cut into the side of a cliff. He looked up and saw the cat as it scampered away… He dropped off the stone and ran toward the stairs. They disappeared into the shadows far above his head and as he hurried to ascend after the cat; he slipped on the moss and moisture covering them. He crouched as close to all fours as possible. “It works for the damn cat, why not me?”

Once again, Vincent thought his legs would fall off, but this time, he didn’t stop to contemplate the pain. He pushed through in a way his old gym teacher would have admired and clapped him on the back with approval. Fuck that guy, I want that locket. Panting and almost sobbing, he got to the top of the stairs.

Spread out under the moon and stars was another clearing. It was wide open; no rocks, trees, or monoliths. Opposite him was another cliff face, smooth and blank that went three-quarters of the way around. Toward his left, the cliff face ended in what appeared to be a sharp drop back down to the forest floor. Right in the middle sat the cat, locket at its feet while it groomed its shoulders.

“You little fucker,” he wheezed. “Taking a bath, now? I’m going to break your neck. Give me grandma’s locket.”

Surprised that the cat did not move away at the sound of his croaking voice, Vincent stumbled across the clearing. He focused all his attention on the locket, ignoring the cat as much as it ignored him. Of course, it waited until he was inches from grabbing his prize before it once again picked it up and bounced toward the edge open to space.

“Shit!”

Vincent lunged after the cat, throwing himself forward, hoping to fall on it, maybe crushing the little bastard under his weight. He skidded along in the dirt after it and actually snagged one of its rear legs, knocking it into the other one which unbalanced its gait, tumbling it askew, making it roll and disappear into the darkness over the edge.

Scrambling on all fours after the cat, he peered over. About twenty feet below him, the scrub brush jutting from the cliff below held the locket swaying back and forth in the moonlight. The cat was nowhere to be seen.It was so close. Vincent scanned the cliff face for a feasible way down, a way to get closer to the locket. There was a slight ledge a few feet down. It was hard to make out, but he thought he could reach the branch if he could just get to that ledge. Vincent dropped to his belly and slowly squirmed his legs over the edge. The only noise other than the slight breeze was the small rocks and dirt tumbling over the cliff, clicking against the almost sheer rock wall.

Vincent thanked whatever god was listening for the smaller trees and shrubs he could grab on to while he lowered himself. Inching lower, his toes could not find purchase on the ledge he saw. Sweat poured from him as doubt set in. Was there a ledge? Was it farther than he thought? The deepening shadows could have made him misjudge. The cliff’s edge was digging into his chest; reluctantly he loosened his grip on the sapling that was his anchor. Still, Vincent didn’t feel solid ground. The dirt and rock beneath Vincent crumbled, and he slipped faster, his grip on the bushes weakened.

The ledge gave way.

***

Stay tuned for the finale tomorrow.