Free Some Kind of Happiness by Claire Legrand

now, the five of us.
    Gretchen starts laughing through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. Aunt Bridget has to clap her on the back. A chunk of yellow goes flying and hits Uncle Nelson’s forehead, and the twins start shrieking.
    Grandpa glances up from his newspaper, his mouth twitching.“If you let me in on the secret, I’ll take you to the swimming pool this afternoon.”
    Dex’s eyes light up. “Really?”
    Ruth grabs his arm. “We’ll think about it,” she says primly, then glances at me and winks.
    She is better at it than Grandpa.
    Grandpa returns to his reading, but his eyes twinkle at me over the top of the newspaper.
    The kitchen is bright and smells like coffee, and at this moment I cannot remember what it is to feel afraid.

HE ORPHAN GIRL AWOKE IN the middle of the night to the feeling that she was being watched.
    She looked about the camp she shared with her sleeping companions.
    A circle of trees surrounded them, their trunks twisted together in mighty knots. Ash fell from their withered leaves like snow.
    â€œHello?” the orphan girl whispered into the darkness.
    â€œHello,” said a small, clear voice.
    The orphan girl reached for her pack and saw that it had been opened. Nothing was missing—except for the soft leather boot.
    The orphan girl followed the voice. “Who are you? Show yourself.”
    Two amber eyes appeared in the gloom. “You know who I am.”
    As the voice spoke, cold waves of power glided across the orphan girl’s skin.
    â€œThe boot,” she whispered.
    The voice laughed, and a red fox padded into the moonlight.
    â€œI didn’t think you’d recognize me,” said the fox.
    â€œI met your friend,” said the orphan girl, “the snake.”
    The fox’s yellow eyes narrowed. “The snake and I are not friends. Not everyone in these woods is friendly, child. Do not make the mistake of assuming so.”
    â€œI thought—”
    â€œYes, you thought and you thought. What good did thinking ever do anyone?”
    The orphan girl considered this a silly question. “Well, a whole lot of good to a great many people, in fact.”
    The fox grinned. “You speak your mind. I like that.”
    â€œMy friends and I are looking for the secret of the Everwood,” the orphan girl explained. The fox’s grin unnerved her. “Why the trees are dying, what those howls are at night.”
    â€œYou know the answers to these questions,” the fox said, curling its tail about its paws.
    â€œI don’t.”
    â€œYou do, and don’t lie to me. The snake told you, I know. Snakes talk too much.”
    â€œThe Everwood makes whatever is inside us come to life,” admitted the orphan girl. “That’s what the snake said.”
    â€œAnd?” prompted the fox.
    â€œAnd my darkness will bring out the Everwood’s darkness.”
    â€œThe forest is not as strong as it once was,” said the fox.
    The orphan girl wanted to look away, but did not. “Yes.”
    â€œAnd what is inside you , child?” The fox’s expression turned serious. “What have you brought into these woods? Fear, perhaps?”
    The orphan girl stiffened. “I am not afraid of forests.”
    â€œNo. You are afraid of yourself.”
    A chorus of howls cut through the night, closer than they had ever been.
    â€œLike is drawn to like,” the fox murmured. “Darkness finds darkness.”
    â€œYou speak in riddles,” accused the orphan girl.
    â€œI speak in truths.” The fox slunk about the orphan girl’s ankles. “Have you heard of the Dark Ones?”
    The orphan girl shivered. “They only come out at night.”
    â€œBut they don’t truly love the night. What feeds them is a different kind of darkness.”
    The orphan girl did not want to say it, but the black woods trembled around her, and she ached for them. Were the trees in pain?