More dirt caves in around him, and he gasps for air—he’s sunk up to his chest now. He blinks up at me one last time, like he’s still unsure of what’s happening, like he’s still a little buzzed—and he thinks maybe this isn’t real. Only a dream, an awful, awful nightmare.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t cry out, and I hold on to his arms until they are the only thing still aboveground. But then they too are swallowed up by the cruel, dark soil.

Gone.

Gone.

Gone.

I sink back onto the earth, staring at the space where Jasper had been, my own lungs heaving. What the fuck, I want to scream, but no sound comes out. Only the absence of air.

Above me, trees are burning, sparks raining down. And I scramble back, pushing myself to standing, afraid I will be next—just like Jasper. But the roots don’t come for me. Jasper was the one who started the fire. Jasper stole lost things after I told him not to—when the forest was awake. He was the only one who placed things in his pocket to take home, to keep.

The trees were never going to let him leave.

I wipe at my face, dirt and soot coming away, and brush my hands against my knees. Wanting to be rid of the dirt, any memory of what just happened. Of what I just saw. Jasper is dead. Jasper is gone.

On the ground, only a foot away, is my grandmother’s ring. My heart swings wrongly in my chest. Something isn’t right—why is the ring here, inside the woods? But I don’t bend down to touch it, I don’t lift it from the soil. I won’t take it from the Wicker Woods, not now, when the forest is awake—I won’t give it reason to hunt me.

The trees wheeze and croak, flames growing larger, and I push myself up, stagger a moment, then turn and run to the edge of the Wicker Woods.

“I—” Rhett stammers when I reach him. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t—” But I don’t let him finish. I shove my hands hard against his chest, hard enough that it knocks him back and he slams against the tree behind him. He doesn’t say anything else. His mouth flat, eyes to the ground.

I step over the threshold and out of the Wicker Woods.

The Black River churns ahead of us, water roiling beneath the layer of ice. Suzy and Lin stare at me—like they heard what happened, like they know Jasper isn’t going to appear from the trees. But then I realize they aren’t looking at me; they’re staring up at the woods, at the way we came.