As two others reached for his and Ethel’s bags, Barclay desperately summoned wind. A gale blew through the thickets of trees, and though it succeeded in knocking the fox from Abel’s chest, it did nothing to help Barclay and Ethel with the vines. And the vines were growing steadily up their bodies and slithering around their waists and wrists, tight enough to bruise.

Then a curious thing happened. The number of people in the area suddenly jumped from eight to sixteen, and Barclay realized that a massive mirror had appeared ahead of them, forming a long wall. He blinked at his reflection, his body covered in vines and his hair whipping wildly across his face.

Abel jumped to his feet and ran to the mirror. Barclay braced himself for a crash, but instead of colliding with the glass, Abel leaped into the mirror, as though he’d merged with his own reflection.

“What the—?” one of the students started.

Then, in an instant, Abel ran and made it to the other end of the mirror. He lunged out of the glass and tackled the student to the ground.

The vines on Barclay’s and Ethel’s legs sank back into the snow, and the two of them stumbled free. They immediately targeted the two students closest to them, Ethel deftly sweeping one of them off their feet, Barclay summoning a wind to do the same.

“What was that?” Barclay asked. He retrieved his fallen bag, and he and Ethel joined Abel at the giant mirror.

Abel’s eyes twinkled. “Mirror Lore. Though it’s better when—”

“We use it together,” Ethel finished bitterly. “But I was a bit tied up!”

The students watched them more cautiously now, as though realizing that five against three didn’t necessarily mean they had the upper hand. The gourd boy staggered to his feet and leaned against a nearby tree to steady himself.

Something rumbled beneath their feet, and Root’s Mark stung painfully in warning. A thunderous groan echoed through the Woods.

“No!” Barclay called out. “Don’t lean on that tree!”

But it was too late. The rootlike tongue of a Styerwurm shot up from the earth, and the head followed, its mouth open wide like a dark tunnel. The gourd boy screamed and scampered out of its path.

“Don’t just watch!” Barclay shouted, grabbing at Abel’s and Ethel’s hands. “Run!”

The Styerwurm, distracted with shaking the fox girl, didn’t notice them escape. Several more screams echoed throughout the trees, the Woods once again reminding Barclay how dangerous it was. In the hazy blizzard of white, it was impossible to see. They collided painfully with thorn bushes, fell and stumbled down hills, and tripped over logs. The barren trees seemed to sway and move in the darkness.

“Which way is Sycomore?” Barclay asked.

“I have no idea,” Abel breathed.

Ethel shakily looked up at the sky, hoping for the sun to provide direction, but it was swallowed by the storm.

Silhouettes approached around them, each different shapes. Some were tall and wide, others crouched and predatory. There could be Beasts far more dangerous than Styerwurms wild in this forest.