Thornghost Read Free Page A

his gulps of air quiet. This didn’t make any sense. A wounded animal would attack; maybe give chase if it felt threatened. But this thing didn’t act like a creature crazed by pain. It was hunting him. And bears did not have green eyes that glowed in the dark.
    His hands shook too hard to hold on properly, so he slid down a few yards and settled where three branches met to form a chair of sorts. Lin used to call it his throne. He had sat in it hundreds of times because the oak tree was their troll-hunting headquarters.
    â€œBest place to get acorns for the troll’s bane,” Niklas had pointed out. Oak trees rarely grew this far north, and there were only three in all of Willodale. But that wasn’t the only reason they had chosen it. The oak tree had branches that stretched over the stream, and reached out beyond the cliff upon which the tree perched. If you moved around in the canopy, you had as good a view of the Summerhill lands as you’d ever get.
    The wind shifted, and hushed voices blew across thestream from Oldmeadow. Niklas eased out of his throne and moved a notch up the trunk to see better.
    The hunting party. They approached quickly along the trail, flashlight beams roving over the grass. “I swear I heard a scream,” said a voice, and Niklas winced. Mr. Molyk.
    â€œYou’re sure it wasn’t young Master Summerhill trying to pull our legs?” another voice said. Mrs. Ottem. “He’s always lurking around this neck of the woods.”
    â€œWell, if it was, maybe I should give him a taste of my peppercorns.” Molyk patted his shotgun as he stepped onto Oak Bridge. “He deserves it tonight, that’s for sure.”
    Mrs. Ottem grunted. “It was a shame with his mother, but it’s past time everyone stopped coddling him.”
    â€œThey’re just pranks,” a third man said, joining them on the bridge. Niklas recognized the voice of one of the Fale brothers.
    â€œTell that to your wife,” Mrs. Ottem said. “It’s her plum jam that keeps vanishing.”
    â€œOh, we don’t know it’s him,” Mr. Fale said. “We keep our jam behind locked doors, and Niklas is just a lad. I hardly think—”
    â€œTell that to my sheep,” Mr. Molyk cut him off. “You saw Edith, half-mad with fear, and the lambs, too. We’re lucky we got them before they fell off the mountain trail.”
    Up in the tree, Niklas leaned his forehead against the trunk. The Willodalers didn’t get it at all. He might fill their boots with muck when they deserved it, but he wouldnever hurt an animal on purpose. He felt tingly with relief that the sheep were safe. But then Mr. Molyk added, “And that’s not even mentioning the last poor wretch. Or was that just a prank, too?”
    Niklas’s tingles went cold. What had happened to the last poor wretch?
    But he didn’t find out, because instead Mr. Fale gave a cry. He leaned over the side of the bridge, pointing his flashlight up the stream. The hunters filed down to the water and out of Niklas’s line of sight. He heard them arguing over the torn shrubs and whether or not they could have anything to do with the beast. Then they all fell silent.
    Niklas craned his neck, but he couldn’t see anything. When the hunters started speaking again, the words were harsh hisses that he couldn’t make out over the Summerchild. He eased out on a branch that leaned over the stream.
    â€œI’m telling you, it’s warped,” Mrs. Ottem said.
    â€œNo it isn’t,” Mr. Molyk said. “It’s clear as day. It’s just too big to be possible.”
    What were they looking at? Niklas needed to get closer, but the branch he perched on was on the slim side and yielded slightly every time he shifted his weight. He glanced behind himself to gauge how far he could go, and just like that, he forgot all about the hunters’ discovery.
    There was