Free Strangewood by Christopher Golden Page B

always mean in the books, but he was stupid
too. Stupid made him funny. But Nathan didn't think he was funny anymore. The
boy whimpered, tears streamed down his face, and he kept moving around in the
wheelbarrow until his feet were down the end near where Bob Longtooth was
pushing. He sat up a bit, and his eyes darted around, taking in everything he
saw.
    It was Strangewood, all right. But it wasn't the Strangewood
from his Daddy's books. Nathan thought they were on the Winding Way, a magical
road that twisted all through the landscape of Strangewood. And it might have
been . . . should have been . . . the Big Old Orchard, where huge apples trees
grew, every one of them good for climbing and swinging. The giant apples were
redder than licorice and juicier than any other apple ever dreamed of being. Something
to brag about, in a world where apples probably did dream.
    But it wasn't the Big Old Orchard. Not really. It looked
like it might have been, a long time ago. But not anymore. The trees were
twisted and dark, too scary to climb. Dangerous, even. And there were no more
apples except for withered things all over the ground on either side of the
Winding Way.
    Nathan was just a boy, but he knew the smell of rotting
fruit. And of shit. He could smell both from where he sat, though there was
only a light breeze, and he tried hard not to breathe through his nose.
    He wiped the tears from his eyes, still whimpering low in
his chest without even realizing he was doing it. But Longtooth and Cragskull
didn't seem like they were going to hurt him, as long as he kept his mouth
shut. Not that it mattered; he was too scared to say anything else. Too scared
to do anything except look around, in terror and in sadness.
    It was like Strangewood was dead. As though somebody had
killed it. If they kept going along the Winding Way, they would eventually come
to the Land of Bells and Whistles, and then the Up-River, and Nathan didn't
want to even think what might have happened to all the people who lived in
those places.
    Unless — well, there was always the possibility that
he'd find someone who could save him from Bob and Cragskull. He looked around
hopefully, scanning the ruined orchard for some sign that help might be coming.
    "Don't even think about it, sssssson," Bob
Longtooth hissed. "You belong to usssss, now. The bosssss has plansssss
for you."
    Nathan ignored the saber-toothed man as best he could . . .
which wasn't all that well considering how frightened of Bob he was. He scanned
the woods, listened to the orange-starred night, hoping for some sign that help
was on the way.
    That was when the screams started. There was a horrible,
keening wail off to the right, deep in the deadwood of the Big Old Orchard. And
Nathan smelled the sharp tangy scent of fresh oranges.
    "Oh . . .” he said. "Oh . . . no, please . .
."
    Cragskull clamped a hand hard on Nathan's mouth and held a
knife to his throat. When he spoke, his gruff voice was a whisper so low Nathan
could barely make out the words.
    "They're not on our side," Cragskull whispered,
and Nathan wanted to scream even more then. The creatures screaming in the
forest might actually be able to help him, to save him from these others.
    "They're not on your sssside either, brat," Longtooth
added quietly, then they were all silent until the scent of oranges had gone
away.
    "The Orange Pealers aren't on anybody's side in
this," Cragskull agreed. "They're just vicious little savages who
smell good."
    After a moment, Bob Longtooth picked up the wheelbarrow and
started off once more. He and Cragskull were trying to be very quiet, and
Nathan had the urge to shout again, but didn't. He wasn't even six years old,
but he knew enough to be afraid of anything that the monsters themselves were
afraid of.
    They stared at him from time to time, and Nathan would only
look away. He didn't like to look at them, didn't want to think about where
they were or what had happened to this place. He was big enough