With sticks in hand, the three moved single file into the trees. While still having no idea what direction they traveled, Farilane at least understood that this was the other side of the greenway, the outside.

The light was still there. It bobbed slightly, as if held by someone walking. That was the good news; the bad news was that the light had a bluish-silver tint, which ruled out a torch or lantern.

What light emitted a blue glow?

Farilane had read about foxfire, or fairy fire, a strange phenomenon where plants or fungus glimmered with a blue-green light. The fungus wasn’t hot, it just glowed. This might be that, except it moved.

Firefly?

Possible, but they were the wrong color. They were more yellow-green. This was a stunning blue-silver, and even at a distance, was clearly bigger than a fly. Farilane watched as the light disappeared behind tree trunks and reappeared on the far side. As they drew closer, the light grew larger. No sound followed it. Farilane didn’t find this terribly odd, given that the previous day’s downpour had soaked the forest floor, helping muffle even their own movement. As they chased the light, however, the ground grew wetter. Soon, they were slogging through standing water and muck. Farilane found keeping up with the light a growing challenge. Then, just walking became a problem.

In retrospect, she was pleased that she saw the danger before it was too late, but also embarrassed that it took that long. She stopped trying to chase the light when she felt her feet sink into the muck to her calves. “Stop,” she told the others. “This is a trap.” With effort, she managed to dislodge her legs, and then retreated. Another few yards, and the effort to pull one leg free would have forced the other one too deep to rescue.

“The light is luring us.”

“Where?” Sheldon asked in a small voice from the darkness behind her.

“To our deaths.”

“Oh.” The word was a muffled puff of air.

Farilane trudged back the way she’d come, only to find more deep water, more sucking muck.

“Princess?” Sheldon called. “Do you need help?”

She couldn’t see him in this forest beneath a clouded sky and below a dense canopy; she couldn’t see her hand before her face. “No! Stay where you are. Don’t come to me. Don’t anyone come to me.”

With her switch, Farilane probed the solidness of the land around her and found only more muck. Blind, she had no way to tell which was the best route, and the wrong path might kill her.

I’m not as clever as I thought.