The rest of the school week passed without any event. There was good and bad to that. Emery stayed home all four of the days. A few of her other friends did, too, but she had minimal contact with them. She wanted to be alone, save for Tess's daily stop-by. Emery was relieved, on the one hand, to be free of mysterious strangers and freaky encounters in the forest, but she grew more depressed each day that passed without news of Adam. She thought often of their moments together, the first time she'd met him, which had been a snowy day in the ninth grade. Adam had started school halfway through the year, and he'd walked into her biology class with a smile as wide as his face and taken a seat nearby. He'd taken to her circle of friends, and the two had remained in one another's sphere for some time, but it hadn't been until they'd worked together that they'd grown close. Adam had always been so charming; she couldn't be around him and be unhappy. It was impossible.

That Friday, a week after Adam's disappearance, Emery's friends decided to have a get-together in his honor. Not so much a party as a small social gathering, where they could talk about him and be there for one another if anyone needed a shoulder to cry on. It was to be at a boy named Xavier's house, not more than a few blocks from Emery's. So she decided not to drive. She'd just bike the distance. It'd be nice to get out of her house, anyway, move through the warm air on her own.

She'd been at her house most of the week, although she'd been outside in her yard quite a bit. The black dog had taken a liking to her and kept around since she and Tess had seen him at the park. The dog was a him, after all. And he didn't have an owner, as far as Emery and her parents could tell. They'd called around to see if anyone was missing such an animal, but they'd received no replies. So Friday morning, Emery and her father had taken him to a vet to have him looked at, and they'd picked up a collar as well. They'd hang onto him unless anyone else came by to claim him. The dog seemed happy enough with that, especially as long as they put out food and water for him. Although Emery was fairly sure her parents were obliging only because they felt bad for her, she didn't question it. Their family had a grizzled old cat, and she'd always been interested in a dog, anyway. Tonight, she'd been told she could finally bring the dog inside.

As of Friday, though, Emery still hadn't figured out what to call him.

On her way to Xavier's, Emery's eyes ran across the houses and yards of her neighborhood. It was all so pretty, especially at this time of year, when the plants were lush and green. The houses were two or three stories each, the sorts that had paved walkways and stepping stones; trellises led to backyards perfect for barbeques and social gatherings; large windows seemed to adorn the front of each house, perfect for showing off Christmas trees in the winter; seasonal wreaths hung on doors, as these were the sorts of people who had decor for every month of the year. All the cars had bike racks. All the garages had basketball hoops. Half the backyards had pools or, at least, a trampoline. Had one of these people, in their innocuous homes, hurt Adam? Could it be that there were terrible people hiding out in her own neighborhood?

Xavier's parents had set out a bunch of food and drinks on their back patio, and by the time Emery got there, about fifteen others had already arrived. Their friend group numbered around twenty, depending on whether or not any of them were dating someone from the outside at any given time. Emery was closer to some than others, but she knew them all, and for the most part, they were good people. The sorts that usually cared about grades and one another. None of them tended to gossip unkindly about the others, and there'd been little infighting over the years.

She was greeted warmly when she arrived, and someone made space for her in the larger circle of chairs. Everyone knew she'd been closer to Adam than most of the others. He'd had some guys that he'd been pretty good friends with, guys he'd run track with, but of all the others, Emery had been the closest. So they respected her particular struggle.

Conversation moved from one topic to another. There was some laughter and joking, which felt out of place to Emery (though she couldn't begrudge her peers' enjoyment). But they looped back to Adam as often as someone thought to do so, recounted a funny story, or a moment of his kindness, or some other anecdote related to him. Emery herself kept pretty quiet. Talking about Adam would, to her, make it all seem more real. She was still hoping she'd wake up and find out this had all been some weird nightmare.

And anyway, as she sat there, her mind kept wandering to that meadow, which she'd dreamt about every single night since talking to Tess about it. She wanted to go there, more and more. It wasn't as much the actual meadow as it was the complete and utter peace she felt when she was in it. Nothing more had revealed itself in the dream. She'd still been unable to see anything but her immediate self, the flowers and sunlight before her, the melting warm colors of the sky; she hadn't been able to turn left or right. But that hadn't mattered. She'd sensed someone was there with her, in that dream, and a part of her wondered if it might be Adam, but whether or not she ever saw who it was, she'd appreciate the dream's halcyon moments every time they came.

That dream was beginning to make sleep preferable to wakefulness.

"Are you coming back to school, next week?" That was one of the girls, speaking to Emery.

She shook herself out of her reverie. "Oh, yeah. My parents are making me. They don't want my grades slipping." Even as she said it, Emery felt stupid. Who cared about grades? Did any of that matter? How trivial it all seemed.

"I'll help you catch up in AP History." That was Xavier.

"And you can copy my notes for trig." That was a girl named Claire.

"Thanks, everybody," Emery forced herself to say. She had to remember that she wasn't the only person to lose Adam; his own family must've been absolutely torn up. It was selfish of her to act as if this were her personal tragedy. "So, I got a dog," she refocused the conversation, and the vibe mellowed as she began to talk about the animal.

About ten, Tess and Emery decided to leave together. Xavier's house was right about equidistant from each of theirs; they didn't walk their bikes together long before having to part ways. Emery assured Tess she'd be all right after her friend's attempted insistence that she accompany her back to her house; Emery didn't feel unsafe. But more importantly than that, she had an urge to be alone. About halfway home, a mere couple of blocks, some dark blossom opened in her heart, and she made a sharp turn toward the middle school.

It was quite a distance, about a fifteen-minute bike ride, and tears welled up in her eyes as she rode. She felt free, though, in that night air. Some people were out, but not many, and the shadows hid her soft crying. She didn't feel unsafe. Even when she pulled up to the middle school, into the parking lot, right where Adam's truck had been, she felt only a deep sadness and, contradictorily, a sense of connectedness to him. He'd been here. In this very spot. Where he'd gone after that, no one knew, but at least he'd been here.

She dropped her bike onto the pavement and sat down in that parking spot. Behind her was the brick, one-story middle school, colonial in style. There were a couple of orange street lights nearby, enough to keep the lot dimly lit, enough for Emery to see what was around her. The track was off to one side, shrouded in gloom, and beyond the lot where she sat, across a soccer field, were the woods they'd searched, which were merely a black mass from what she could make out. She'd be able to see anything at all from this spot, anyone or anything that tried to approach her, from any direction. And she had her phone, and her bike. She just wanted to sit there for a bit, see if she could feel his presence. Maybe (and this was perhaps the influence of Tess as well her own mania for answers) Adam would somehow speak to her, give her a hint as to what had happened. Emery was normally so practical, so level headed, but things had been too strange, as of late. She was willing to take answers from whatever source delivered them.

"Where are you?" she whispered, her voice louder than she meant for it to be against the quiet night. Bugs trilled, nestled in their weedy hiding places. All around her, the air hung heavy, thick as a sauna. Even in her cut-offs and tank, she was sweating. August needed to end. September was in a few days, and in the current heat, Emery felt ready for autumn. But she also knew that the more time that passed, the less likely it was they'd find Adam . . . at least, find him . . . alive.

"NO!" she ordered herself, startling some nearby crickets into silence.

She wiped at her eyes, her nose, and figured it was time to get up and move. Adam wasn't going to supernaturally speak to her here. What a stupid notion. Just as she stood and brushed off her shorts, began to pick up her bike, a sudden bright light, down on the soccer field, caught her attention. It was a flash, as if someone had lit a firework; blue and green sparks fizzled off into the air around a core of gold, and it went on for about ten solid seconds before disappearing.

Emery stood staring down into the field, unable to make out anything other than the white posts of the goal nets. The light had seemed to come from the goal to the left. Probably some kids setting off firecrackers, she thought, though she hadn't heard any popping sounds. She narrowed her eyes. Was that--some sort of person moving around down there? Something seemed to be flailing about by the goal post; she could see it more clearly, now that her eyes had adjusted back to the shadows after staring at the bright light. It was something big, too . . . not a bird or dog or anything.

Retrieving her phone, holding it out, ready to swipe on the flashlight when she needed to, Emery stepped off the lot onto the grass. There was a short but steep slope, which she jogged down, and then she kept up the pace across about half the distance to the goal, when she slowed down. The person was speaking, she realized. Or, actually, swearing. It was obviously frustrated, as it appeared to be tangled in the netting, and it was spewing out all manner of strange curse words and phrases. But there was something comical in its tone; it didn't seem anything monstrous.

When Emery was about ten feet away from it, she turned on her phone light and shone it at the goal. There, as she'd expected, was a young man, all caught up in the goal's mesh, which seemed to have torn in a number of places. She noticed immediately his strange dress--another cloak, this one a coarse brown, and over that what resembled an animal hide of reddish fur. The rest of his attire was plain enough, a tunic and pants, laced boots. But it was all very Ren fest, as she'd have said to Tess. What was with these strange figures showing up in their bizarre clothing? This person wasn't like that man in the forest, the night of the search, though. He was far more youthful, not a hint of a beard, and straight though matted black hair about down to his chin topped with a cap of something like leather. His features, Emery saw as she neared him, were pointed and rather delicate.

"Oh thank gods! Rescue. I beg you, fair maiden, release me from this dastardly web of deceit!"

Emery stood staring at him and couldn't help a smile. He looked absolutely ridiculous, arms splayed at odd angles, one foot on the ground while his other leg was tied up, toes pointed toward the sky. One unfortunate move and he'd be entirely suspended.

The man, who couldn't have been much older than she, seemed unsure what to say next. His gray eyes shone in her phone's light. "I--I--" he stuttered in disbelief. Then, he pled again, "Would you not aid an unfortunate man, maiden?"

Emery stifled a laugh. "Yes, yes. I'm so sorry," she replied, propping her phone against the goal post at an angle that shed light on the man's predicament. "Can you please stop talking like that, though?" She surveyed the nets, tried to figure out what exactly was going on.

"Is my language not mannerly enough? I beg your pardon, lady." He watched Emery as she examined his situation, as she began to work free one of his arms.

She noticed he wore a belt with a number of pouches and strange artifacts on it, a leather cord with tiny animal bones, trinkets made of feather and fur and teeth, unidentifiable fungi, a small dagger in a hilt, and a menagerie of other odd things. Releasing one of his arms, Emery moved to work on the other, catching sight of a crimson stone hanging on a rope around his neck. An elaborate bit of lichen shaped into a hook coated the rim of one of his ears, too, showing pale green through his longish hair. Emery shook her head in disbelief and no small amount of amusement. This one had quite the costume. It looked very real, when she thought of it.

"Ah! Many thanks," he said, once his second arm was free, but now, without his arms being held up, standing on one foot became suddenly difficult, and he practically lost his balance and fell atop Emery. "Oh Gods! My sincerest apologies! How ridiculous this all is. What an entrance!" As he rambled on in embarrassment, Emery pushed one of his hands to the goal post so he could steady himself, and once he was at ease she went to see about the leg.

Realizing his attempts to help were of no help whatsoever, the man stood as still as possible and let Emery work at the knots. "How did you manage to do this?" asked the girl, trying to follow the strings to find the source of their tangle.

"Transportation incantations are notoriously fickle," replied the man, a hint of aggravation in his tone. "I'm still technically in my noivitiate phase, you know, with only myself as instructor. So it's quite surprising I made it here in one piece at all. But these times are desperate, and chances must be taken."

Emery had found the problem area and was working to separate the strings of a particularly challenging knot behind his knee. Soon, she'd half lowered the leg, and within a few more moments, the man stood free of the net, both feet on the ground. When he had adjusted his clothing and cloak and checked to make sure all his trinkets were in order, he looked to Emery, who had picked up her phone and was holding it between the two of them.

He was quite slender, she realized. His belt was wrapped around him numerous times. He certainly was not like the man that had saved her from those shadows. Even recalling that antlered silhouette, Emery shuddered inadvertently.

"Is the lady cold?" asked the stranger.

"Oh, no. Not at all. I'm fine, thanks."

He gave a half bow. "I am by no means deserving of your thanks. It is you, indeed, who deserve mine. Might I know the name of this fairest maiden whose grace and cunning has saved my form and dignity this night?"

Again having to stifle a snort, Emery grinned. "I'm not really sure about the dignity," she smirked.

The man's gray eyes dulled a teensy bit, but then he smiled in return. "Fair enough." He nodded at her. "But how much worse would I have suffered had not you come along? I might have had to strip free of my clothing to escape that web!"

"Yes, I agree that would've been pretty undignified."

The two of them shared a laugh.

"All is well, all is well," the man said, shoving the black hair away from his gray eyes. "Before I continue on my path, might I at least know to whom I owe thanks?"

Holding out a hand, as seemed comically proper in the moment, the girl replied, "Emery. Happy to help you."

The moment she said her name, the young man's grin vanished. His eyes widened, and his whole body seemed to tense. Then, to Emery's utter fascination and mortification, he dropped to one knee and took her hand, saying, "Lady Emer!" He stayed kneeling, stared at the ground as if suddenly unable to look her in the face. "Please, Lady! Accept my truest regret. I didn't recognize you--not having seen you until this moment."

Emery snatched her hand back. He'd said her name strangely, too--just as that stalker, Cullen, had said it. "Get up!" she barked, and to her relief, he obeyed, though he sheepishly refused to meet her gaze. "Who are you? Look at me! Who are you?"

He did as she asked, though she could tell it was with reluctance. "Does the lady remember nothing?"

"No! I do not!"

The man held a hand to his heart. "It is I, Cathbad, my Lord Cuchulain's faithful druid."