Before long Nim’r had a clear recollection of why he was feeling so ill. The trees were bunching together more and more. They were climbing over roots far more often than they were walking on the ground. Light became fainter and fainter, filtered through innumerable layers of foliage. His conscious mind tried to deny it, but deep down the part of his brain in charge of fear knew quite well where they were.

The trees eased in their press, opening onto a small strip of open ground, a no man’s land. Ahead of them towered the wall of interlaced branches and undergrowth, an eerie shade of green illuminated from within by the sun streaming down from above. Nim’r knew what was on the other side of the wall of plant matter. The tranquil pool of water, so innocent and innocuous in appearance, was sitting back there mocking and taunting him.

“Geez, Nim’r,” Gideon said with a cocky sneer, “Is it all these leaves or are you looking a little green?”

“I don’t think we ought to go in there.”