Free Enchantment by Orson Scott Card

this morning, he headed straight for the path in the woods, and instead of hesitating, he boldly, fearlessly jogged into the forest and made his way among the trees.
    The path was not clearly marked, and his memory of the whole journey through the woods wasn’t all that clear. If the place didn’t really exist at all, not even a meadow, then how would he know that he had found where it
wasn’t
in order to prove to his unconscious mind that the monster wasn’t real, that the imprisoned woman did not exist and therefore did not depend on him for rescue?
    He needn’t have worried. Though the run was long, he recognized the way the underbrush cleared and knew he was getting closer. The climax forest with its massive trunks and lack of underbrush, that turned out to be real, so that running here was like taking a jog through an endless Parthenon, column after massive column rising out of sight to some pale-green vault of unimaginable hugeness. He was getting closer, closer . . .
    And then he was there. The clearing in the forest. Perfectly round, covered with leaves. Exactly as he had seen it for all these years in his dreams and memories.
    Real.
    But of course it was real. The
meadow
was real. But there was no woman in the middle, just a slight rise in the ground. And no chasm, either, for when he stepped closer the leaves did not swirl away from his feet and reveal a—
    The leaves swirled away from his feet. He stood on the lip of a chasm, just like the one he had remembered so well. Not imaginary at all.
    And there on the far side, movement under the leaves, churning it up like a gopher eating its way under the lawn, only faster, faster, heading right for him.
    When he came here before, that movement had made him run away in blind panic. But he was older now, more confident of his own abilities. If he outran this thing as a child, then he could certainly outrun it now. And maybe there was no need to run. Maybe it was trapped in the chasm and could not get out.
    So he stood and waited for it to come to him.

4
    Kiss
    The creature under the leaves came to the edge of the chasm and stopped. Then, slowly, the movement of the leaves showed that it was backing away.
    For a moment, Ivan was relieved. He had half-expected it to bound out of the chasm and attack him. Instead, like a good watchdog, it was backing up to wait for him to make the next move.
    A sudden rustling, as if the creature were furiously engaged in some task under the leaves. After a few moments of this, stillness.
    What now? thought Ivan. He turned to take a few steps along the edge of the chasm.
    The leaves churned and something flew out of the pit, narrowly missing Ivan’s head. By reflex he recoiled from it and fell to his buttocks as he heard a loud
thwack!
He looked over and saw a stone about the size of a nine-pound shot embedded in the quivering trunk of an ancient tree. What was down there, a howitzer?
    Another churning in the leaves. Ivan immediately fell flat and rolled. Another stone whistled out of the chasm. Ivan scurried around and stood behind a tree, peering around to look at the place the stones were coming from.
    That’s why the creature backed up toward the far side of the chasm—it wanted to get a clear shot at him. Apparently it could see through the leaves.
    Ivan’s first impulse was to head back for Cousin Marek’s farm. Who needed this?
    His second thought was that Cousin Marek would probably have some kind of gun. Not that Ivan knew how to shoot, but how hard could it be?
    Only then did he realize that he must be out of his mind to think of any such thing. This place wasn’t one he wanted to explain to Marek or anyone else. It was his own madness that made it so real.
    No. Not madness. It
was
real. He had found this place as a child, had run from it. But he hadn’t been able to forget it. It haunted him, and now that he was here as a man, it was time for him to do whatever needed doing.
He
would have to do it, and no one else. If