Her eyes scanned the trees ahead of her, searching for movement, for Miguel to be sneaking from bush to bush—and that’s what this all was, wasn’t it? A joke, not on Lucinda, but on Rosa. Miguel got Lucinda to scream, then Miguel screamed too. As soon as Rosa went to investigate, they would jump out and scare her.

Rosa waited. The forest was silent. No wind. No crickets. Nothing.

“Miguel?” she said.

No reply.

Rosa picked up her sandals and began to walk back the way she came, toward the source of the screams. She knew Miguel was going to ambush her, but that was okay, because it would only be scary for a second, then everyone would be laughing. And that was better than how Rosa felt right now. Like she was sick, like she wanted to throw up.

Rosa left the glade with the pond. Trees closed tightly around her. She had to duck branches and watch where she stepped. The late afternoon seemed suddenly dark. She didn’t remember it being this dark earlier. Was that because the branches were blocking out the sun and sky? Or had a cloud passed before the sun?

“Miguel?” she said, though not very loud this time.

Because what if something else heard her?

Like what?

The dolls?

They couldn’t do anything to her. They were only dolls. Even if they came to life, she was a lot bigger than them.

But they got Miguel and Lucinda.

No they didn’t! Rosa told herself severely. Miguel was joking around. He was going to jump out any second now.

He didn’t jump out.

The forest remained silent and dark.

Maybe she should return to the pond and wait there for Miguel to grow bored of his game and come and get her? Then again, what if Miguel or Lucinda really were hurt? What if they needed her help?

Rosa continued forward, pushing through the thick foliage. She began to move quickly, heedless of the scratching branches and the sharp rocks and other deadfall beneath her bare feet. Then she was running. All she could hear was a thumping in her head and her loud breathing. Every tree looked the same, and she wondered if she was heading in the right direction. But she didn’t stop. If she turned back, she would probably only get more lost. Besides, she was pretty sure the camp was right ahead. It couldn’t be much farther.

She ducked around a tree—and ran into several dolls hanging from a low branch. She cried out and fell on her butt. Looking up, she recognized them from earlier: grimy, peeling, sinister.

That meant the camp was not very far away.

“Miguel!” she shouted. She could no longer suppress her fright.

“Rosa!” His voice came back, strangled, weak, filled with terror. “Go! Run!”

Rosa got to her feet. A sob caught in her throat, tight, painful.

“Miguel!”

“Run—” He was cut off abruptly.