2. DRAFTY ROCKS AND A HIDDEN DOOR
The next morning, Holly woke up with a clue still sitting stubbornly inside her head.
This was mildly annoying.
She had hoped sleep might tidy things up a little.
It had not.
Outside, the tree spirit village was already busy.
Someone was hanging herbs to dry between branches.
Someone else appeared to be chasing escaped mushrooms.
Near the well, two elderly spirits were arguing about whether moss counted as a vegetable.
Everything looked perfectly ordinary.
Which only made Holly more determined.
After breakfast, she slipped quietly from the house and wandered through the village.
The tree spirit village spread through the ancient tree like a tiny hidden town. The oldest families lived higher up, where round wooden homes were tucked between great branches and woven into the bark itself. Holly's family had lived there for generations. Far below, newer houses nestled among the roots, while others disappeared underground into cosy burrows lit by glowing moss. Winding paths, wooden stairways and root bridges connected everything together, twisting up and down through the tree like a maze.
Sunlight spilled through cracks in the ancient tree bark high above.
Thin golden beams stretched down through the village.
Holly stopped beneath one and tilted her head.
Yesterday, Grandma Hazel had spoken about spirit doors.
About the missing book.
About things that had once existed and then vanished.
And then there had been that clue.
Near the door, I think.
Holly still wasn't entirely sure where the thought had come from.
But it refused to leave.
She followed the sunlight.
Past the water barrel.
Past a row of tiny gardens.
Past a spirit who was attempting to train a beetle.
The beetle did not appear interested.
Twice Holly thought she had solved the mystery.
Twice she had not.
The first clue led to a storage hollow full of rope and suspicious mushrooms.
The second turned out to be somebody's washing line.
This was disappointing.
She wandered farther than she usually did.
The paths grew quieter there.
The roots twisted thicker.
Plants crowded close to the edges of the trail.
Ahead, she could hear water trickling softly.
The spring.
Few spirits came here nowadays.
The spring sat in a quiet hollow beneath the roots.
Long ago it had been an important place.
Now it felt forgotten.
Ferns crowded around the stones and moss softened every edge.
It was the sort of place secrets might choose to hide.
The place felt older than the rest of the village.
As though the forest had been left alone here for a very long time.
Ferns spilled across ancient stones.
Roots curled through moss.
Thin shafts of sunlight slipped down through cracks high above and scattered softly across the ground.
A cool draft brushed against Holly's leaf.
She froze.
That was odd.
Spirit realms were not supposed to be drafty.
The breeze came again.
Faint.
Cold.
From somewhere behind the roots.
Holly crouched beside the spring.
Something lay hidden beneath the ivy.
Stone.
Not ordinary village stone.
Leaf patterns curled across its surface.
Very old ones.
Carefully, Holly brushed away a little moss.
More carvings appeared underneath.
The draft came again.
A little stronger this time.
Holly pushed aside a curtain of ivy.
Then she noticed it.
One of the roots wasn't growing over the stone.
It was growing through it.
Straight through a narrow crack hidden behind the moss.
Holly leaned closer.
And somewhere inside...
very faintly...
she thought she saw something blue flicker.
Holly held perfectly still.
Holly examined the carvings more carefully.
Slowly, she looked upward.
Thin shafts of sunlight slipped through the cracks high above.
She shuffled sideways, following where the sunlight landed.
Across moss.
Across roots.
Across the carvings.
Then—
she froze.
One of the leaf symbols caught the light differently from the others.
Not brightly.
Briefly.
Almost like a blink.
Holly leaned closer.
The symbol looked ordinary again.
Carefully, she brushed away another layer of moss.
More carving appeared beneath it.
Leaves curling around its edge.
And in the very centre-
a tiny symbol shaped like a sunbeam.
Holly's eyes widened.
“Ohhh…”
She glanced upward again.
Then back to the carving.
Slowly, cautiously, she shuffled sideways until the shaft of sunlight fell directly across the symbol.
Nothing happened.
Holly waited.
Still nothing.
“Well,” she said.
“That was disappointing.”
“You sound exactly like your grandmother when recipes explode.”
Holly jumped.
Grandad Fir stood a short distance away carrying a bundle of fishing gear.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves above him.
He looked thoroughly amused.
“How long have you been standing there?” Holly asked.
“Long enough.”
“Long enough for what?”
“To notice you talking sternly to a rock.”
Holly looked back at the stone.
Grandad wandered over and crouched beside the spring.
For a moment he said nothing.
His eyes moved slowly across the roots, the carvings and the thick ivy wrapped around the stone.
Water trickled softly between the rocks.
A bird sang somewhere high above.
“Hmmm.”
That was all he said.
Which usually meant his brain was doing something important.
“You know this place?” Holly asked.
“A little.”
Grandad brushed a thumb gently across one of the carvings.
“Long ago, spirits gathered here.”
“Gathered for what?”
“Ohhh…”
He scratched his chin thoughtfully.
“Meetings.”
“Ceremonies.”
“Arguments about mushrooms, probably.”
Holly nodded.
That sounded reasonable.
She pointed toward the hidden crack behind the roots.
Grandad paused.
The cool draft brushed past them again.
This time he definitely felt it.
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
“You found a draft.”
“Yes.”
“Spirit realms aren't supposed to be drafty.”
“No,” said Grandad quietly.
“They aren't.”
For a moment neither of them spoke.
The spring bubbled softly beside them.
Holly looked at the carvings again.
Slowly, she pointed at the stone.
“I think it means something.”
Grandad followed her finger.
Then his eyes settled on the tiny sunbeam symbol.
He went very still.
“Oh.”
“What?” Holly asked immediately.
Grandad did not answer straight away.
Instead, he looked upward toward the shafts of sunlight filtering through the cracks high above.
A slow smile crept across his face.
“My goodness,” he murmured.
“Holly…”
“I think you've found an old puzzle.”
“An old puzzle?” Holly repeated.
Grandad nodded slowly.
“Ancient spirits liked puzzles.”
“They said it encouraged patience.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
Holly nodded.
Grandad adjusted his fishing bundle and leaned closer to the stone.
The shaft of sunlight had shifted slightly.
The tiny sunbeam symbol sat just beyond it.
Almost touching.
Almost.
“Maybe it needs more light,” said Holly.
“Maybe.”
Grandad studied the roots wrapped across the stone.
“Or maybe,” he said thoughtfully, “the forest has been doing an extremely good job of hiding things.”
He gently pulled aside a curtain of ivy.
More carvings appeared beneath.
Leaves.
Roots.
Curving lines.
Holly's eyes widened.
“They connect.”
Grandad glanced toward her.
“Yes.”
“Yes, they do.”
Together they followed the pattern across the stone.
One symbol after another.
Then-
they both stopped.
The pattern ended beside a narrow channel carved into the rock.
So narrow Holly had completely missed it.
Water from the spring trickled quietly through it.
Holly stared.
Very carefully, Holly scooped a little water into her hands and tipped it into the tiny channel.
The trickle shifted.
Water flowed along the carved groove.
The sunlight caught it.
For one brief moment-light scattered across the stone.
The carvings glowed faint blue.
The ground gave a quiet click.
Holly crouched lower.
The blue glow had been brief.
She traced the carvings again with her finger.
Holly frowned.
“What?” asked Grandad.
“The pattern isn't finished.”
Grandad looked again.
Holly brushed away another patch of moss near the edge of the stone.
Something appeared beneath it.
Another carved line.
Almost completely hidden.
“Ah,” said Grandad.
“That would explain it.”
They cleared away more moss.
Then more.
And more.
Slowly, the missing pieces emerged.
Grandad let out a quiet breath.
“The ancient spirits.”
“What?”
“They didn't just hide it.”
He looked around at the roots, ivy and moss wrapped across the stone.
“They grew the hiding place.”
Holly looked again.
Now she could see it.
The roots weren't random.
The ivy wasn't random.
Even the moss seemed thicker in certain places.
Like layers.
Very serious hiding.
The cool draft brushed against them again.
Stronger than before.
You have completed Chapter 2