The Edge of Strange Hollow

a batch of boar sandwiches with mustard and greens and tomatoes, on thick homemade bread. She threw in some slices of cheese and wrapped it all in waxed paper. She perused their stores. Jute would notice if she took everything … and who knew how much they would end up needing. She’d need something for Dog to eat too. They also didn’t have any apples. She couldn’t ask Mack to go along with her plan without apples. She gritted her teeth. Asking Jute to summon food was out of the question—he’d be too suspicious. No, she’d have to go through the village market and get some herself. She tightened up her boot strings and ran outside.
The meadow was sunlit and fragrant. The air hummed with bees as Eta-Two-Brutus kicked through the grass and wildflowers, dragging a huge stick back to Mack. Brutus held the biggest section, and kept yanking it away from his siblings. Then he’d get overexcited, and whack them in the face with it.
Poppy hitched her backpack over her shoulders. “Hey, Mack! I’m going into Strange Hollow for some food and a bone for Dog. Want anything else?”
Mack grinned at her. He was always happy playing with Dog in the meadow. Once, he’d dug his bare toes into the ground and told her the soil was joyful out here. “Nah. I’m good,” he began. Then his smile faded. “Should I … come with you? I wouldn’t mind.”
She did consider it for a moment. Mack could almost pass as human, and it would almost be worth it just to see his face. Seeing Strange Hollow up close was on his life list.
Still, it was broad daylight, and there was no telling what might happen if people noticed his eyes, or his elven ears, which was likely. And in her experience, it was rarely a good thing to draw the eye of Strange Hollow folk. Poppy and her family had learned that lesson well. It was lucky none of the town folk had ever set eyes close-up on Jute, or Dog. Neither could ever pass for “normal,” and who knows what people would do if they found out there were Grimwood creatures living so close. As it was, Poppy was content to be ignored.
“No thanks,” she said at last. “You stay here with Dog.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure. Thanks for the offer though.”
She could feel Mack’s eyes on her back as she strode down toward the valley. Honestly, he was as bad as Jute sometimes. “I’ll be fine!” she called.
He didn’t answer for a moment, but then, from the corner of her eye, she saw Dog’s stick hurtle past, and thought she heard Mack say, “Just watch your back.”
Poppy adjusted her pack as she walked down the slope of the hill toward Strange Hollow. The town was small, though it was the biggest of the seven Hollows that ringed the Grimwood. It was also the home of the new governor.
Poppy had never explored the Hollows themselves. What was the point? She couldn’t even make a place for herself in her own Hollow—and the Grimwood held more excitement in its pinkie finger … not that it had a pinkie finger. She knew the Hollows were each a day’s walk or so from one another. To the west of Strange Hollow was Golden Hollow, and then No Good Hollow and Blue Hollow. To the east were Dark Hollow and Broken Hollow. Trader’s Hollow stood a little apart, on the far side of the forest. For some reason no one really understood, people could only pass through the fog in Trader’s Hollow. Perhaps because it was the Hollow farthest from the wood.
Once she knew the Grimwood’s secrets, maybe she would try to learn about the fog, too, or travel to the human world beyond the fog. Mack would like that. Though exploring the fog would be just as dangerous as exploring the Grimwood. There were rumors that the fog itself was a monster too, and whether that was true or not, everyone knew that those who went in didn’t come back out.
The fog wrapped around the outside of the Hollows and bound them to the wood, safe from the outside world. All the wood’s magic—both good and bad—was trapped inside the fog’s thick boundaries. It held the Grimwood and the Hollows wrapped tight the way fear can sometimes hold people together, even when they don’t really like one another. The fog formed a looming wall at the outer edge of every Hollow. People kept their distance, though Poppy had seen some of the more adventurous children daring one another to get close. None of them were ever brave—or reckless enough—to come nearer than a few feet.
But inside the mile-thick walls of the fog, the Hollows thrived well enough. They enjoyed a long growing season. It never snowed, and the air was always sweet, even in winter. Technology didn’t work in the Hollows, but everyone seemed to get along fine without it. No one seemed to mind that the rest of the world—outside the fog lines—could talk to one another using tiny devices, or drive metal boxes around, or thought that killing monsters was a game. Poppy supposed the people found the benefits of living so close to the Grimwood worth the risk. As long as you didn’t get caught by a malediction and lured into the forest, life was good.
Most people had no interest in the outside world anyway. They had their families and friends—and their warding customs, however useless they might be. And people who lived in the Hollows stayed healthy. They lived at least twice as long as people outside the fog. It wasn’t unusual to celebrate your two hundredth birthday in the Hollows. Maybe it was because of the fog. Or maybe it was something in the water. Or maybe it was the soil. Mack was always going on about the soil.
And if you did want to see beyond the fog, you could try. Twice a year on the solstice, the governor would select