He’d never been this far before, never seen for himself how the whole country truly was one big, intersecting treescape. He paused momentarily to let the horse drink from a wooden trough set against an old abandoned trunk. Either side of the deserted highway, the trees gave into darkness. His mind wandered, fixing briefly on a weathered wooden figure of a raven covered in tattered black ribbons. The old wayside shrine was almost hidden in the ivy, but it gave Petronio the shivers. The lonely byways were still dotted with these symbols of the old religion.

As a child, when he woke calling for a mother who was no longer there, his nurse conjured tales out of the shadows of his bedroom. Her main intent seemed to have been less about comfort and more about scaring him half to death. One of her favorites was the story about Little Red Ride In The Wood, who strayed too far from the safety of home, until the Raven Queen, disguised as an old granny, invited her into a little cottage deep in the middle of nowhere. A delicious-smelling cauldron was on the boil, and it only needed one more ingredient….

His nurse would always grab him at this point and shout:

Into the pot with you! Corwenna’s having a do.
Sugar and spice, gristle is nice,
Two legs and a head and soon you’ll be dead.
It’s time to serve up a stew, ooh!

Woodrot! A bunch of old wives’ tales. He gathered his cloak about him and pulled the bridle hard, jamming the bit back into Mercury’s mouth.

“That’s enough. You’re not a buddy water bottle, eh?” He dug in his heels and galloped off along the track. Roosting rooks squawked into flight, disturbed by the thundering hooves. Gray light pouring from a half-formed moon turned the forest around the highway into hills and valleys. The main north-south route was relatively straight. Under the highest leaves it swept along the massive, flattened branches with braced bridges joining to each next branch. As the highway spanned the gap between the distant trees, scaffolding flared out to hug their giant, curved trunks. Petronio sped around these lonely roundabouts, urging his steed onward to the sound of wind hissing in the leaves.

As he rode, Petronio thought about Fenestra. She was so alien, so different, especially against the dull fellows of college. And what was Maw like? The woman made it sound so exotic. As he had helped Fenestra to her feet after her dramatic near-death and they had walked back that afternoon, she told him about wonders he could only imagine. Cities of glass and metal that dazzled the eye, flying machines and cloud-piercing towers where a hundred thousand people lived! He didn’t know it, but his mind was thirsty. His life so far had been bark-bound. But now, what this foreigner offered …