The Edge of Strange Hollow

the Holly Oak about a fire, Poppy realized.
“I got a grievance, so I’m here to make a report. See what the Holly Oak says is to be done.”
The voices had started to fade as they moved away. A breeze blew through Poppy’s hair, and wafted across the meadow. The second werewolf tipped his face toward the sky, and for a second, Poppy thought he was going to howl. Then he whipped around to face the rock where she was hiding, hunched and leaning forward. She ducked down, her heart pounding.
She tried not to breathe.
“What’s the matter, Louis?”
“Smell someone.”
“Ahhh. Well, don’t get in a tizzy. You can’t do anything about that here, and you know it.”
“Might be that human who cut in front of the line to see the Holly Oak.”
The first werewolf let out a low snarl. “That’s tempting, I admit, but it’s not worth it. Kill anything here, and you’re as good as dead yourself. The Oak will have you tied to a picker and send you to the thorn trees.”
Poppy stayed pressed to the roots, out of sight. As soon as they were gone, she slipped carefully back into her pile of feathers and fell right to sleep.
She was the first to wake in the morning, and before she even rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, she reached for her pack, rummaging her hand all the way to the bottom. She caught the end of the gold chain where her necklace lay curled at the bottom, and gently pulled.
She stared at it, the gold locket gleaming softly in the palm of her hand. She didn’t understand why, but she was afraid to open it. It was as if looking at her parents in the locket would bring things full circle—make their danger final in some way. Her head knew it wasn’t true, but her pulse still fluttered in her throat. After a moment or two, she pried open the little heart.
On one side was a tiny painting of her father, his red-gold hair shining. She’d gotten the small gap in her front teeth from him. The other side of the locket held a painting of her mother, with her black hair loose. Her bright eyes looked right into Poppy’s. Do whatever you must, they seemed to say. We need you now.
She snapped it shut and put it around her neck with shaking hands.
When she felt better, she got up and shook Mack and Nula awake. Mack rolled to his feet with a groan, stretching his arms up so high that his T-shirt rose halfway up his chest. Nula refused to do anything but grunt. After the third time Poppy poked her, she rolled over and turned herself into a mouse.
“How far is it to the faeries?” she asked, picking Nula up and holding her on an open palm.
Nula yawned, and hopped off Poppy’s hand to turn back into herself. “A day’s walk … from the dock where we left.”
Poppy looked at Mack. “Back the way we came,” she said with a sigh.
Mack shrugged. “Good. Maybe we’ll see Jute. Maybe he’ll have a better idea than going to the faeries.” He forced a laugh. “Maybe you’ll listen to him, since you won’t listen to me.”
Instead of answering, Poppy headed for the dock. Mack knew Jute didn’t leave the house unless he had to, and she didn’t want to fight. She shoved her hand into her pocket to get the gold for the Boatman … then her stomach fell.
She stopped walking.
After a moment, Mack and Nula both turned. “What’s wrong?” the pooka asked. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”
Poppy took a breath. “I don’t have enough gold left for the Boatman. “I must have lost one along the way…” Her shoulders slumped. “I only have two pieces—not three.”
Nula grimaced and Mack’s body tensed. “I just hope it’s enough,” he said, moving toward the dock.
Nula slowed to walk with Poppy. “He can waste energy hoping it’s enough,” she hissed. “I’ll hope the Boatman doesn’t eat us for breakfast.”

CHAPTER TEN
When they got to the end of the dock, Mack rang for the Boatman. The ripple of sound seemed dimmer here—farther away, as if it rose from under the salt sea. They stood watching the water—Poppy shifting her weight back and forth, rattling her two coins in her pocket, Mack shaking his arms, and Nula twisting the end of her tail. Even Dog gave a little whine.
And then the Boatman rose—without a sound, as if he had been just waiting there, under the water. It was just as creepy, and just as silent as the first time, and it made Poppy’s skin go cold. She remembered their first journey with the Boatman. His laughter had sent her body into uncontrollable shivers, as if she had been a mouse hearing the cry of a hawk. She hoped he wouldn’t laugh again, or worse, be angry that they had called him and didn’t have enough coins to pay.
She tried to fill her voice with steely confidence. “This is all the gold I have,” she said, dropping the two coins into his palm. “I hope it will do.”
She lifted her chin and met the Boatman’s eyes. They were cold, but burned all the same. It felt like a long time before he acquiesced, his thick fingers curling around the coins.
They clambered onto the boat. Again, he watched Dog.
“The elf might make a good meal,” Nula offered under her breath. “If you’re feeling peckish.”
Poppy elbowed her, then settled herself in the bottom of the boat. “Back to where we started, please,” she whispered when the Boatman looked at her expectantly. She thought she knew what to expect, but when the boat pulled away and he began to laugh, she startled, every hair on her body rising, as if lightning had struck the ground next to her.
This time she kept her face raised as the boat sped across the Alcyon sea. The Boatman’s oar, she noticed, wasn’t actually an oar. Instead, he stood in the