The nettles sprang out of the way to avoid Thornwood. Mouse glared.
“There has to be some benefit to being a Faerie lord,” he said. “Power over nettles is useless outside of this moment. I’m not even doing it on purpose.”
The hoofbeats of many hooves on stone drifted up the path. Then,theycame into view: a hunt, like the one in the tapestry, shining gold as the sun. A troop of at least fifty men paraded down the trail. Some were on horses, while others rode in carriages or marched on foot. Long ribbons drifted from the spears they held aloft, and the muzzles of their guns dug into their legs.
The sight was so arresting that it was only when Mouse looked down to rest her eyes that she saw the entire host was floating three inches above the ground. The horses’ hooves clattered against the open air. The men who ran alongside them had no feet, their legs ending just above the ankle, and the carriages floated.
She recognized the faces of some of the men. Their portraits populated the walls of Thistlemarsh Hall, glaring down at Mouse whenever she passed beneath their painted noses.
The man at the front blew the horn again. The sound rattled in Mouse’s head. Then the group was past them and out of sight.
“We were right to hide,” Thornwood said. “Those were spirits. I do not think they can differentiate between the animal they hunt and us.”
“The animal is already dead.”
“That hardly matters to a spirit. The only thing they know is that they must hunt, and if the trophy creature is their prey, they will keep hunting it.”
“They’re all trapped, then, the hunters and the creature.”
“Yes, although only the creature is smart enough to recognize it.”
“You speak as if you have seen an enchantment like this before,” Mouse said.
“Now that I know what it is, I can recognize it. It’s a Tapestry Hunt, one of the Faerie King’s favorite spells. He would usually trap living humans rather than dead ones, but the spellwork here is much the same.”
“What was the spell’s purpose when the Faerie King used it?”
“Entertainment, mostly.” Thornwood closed his eyes, pressing his hand into his forehead as he thought. “It’s been at least two centuries since I have seen one. They fell out of fashion just before I was born, although the King kept a few to roll out on special occasions.”
“Any information at all might help.”
“I am trying. I have never been inside one so old, and even then, I only ever attended as a guest.”
“A guest?”
“Yes, these spells are designed so the King and any observers he should wish to bring along could view the hunt from inside.”
Mouse thought of the tapestry in Thistlemarsh’s entry hall, and the Faerie faces leering at the oblivious hunters. She was always fond of them, despite their malicious oddness. Now, she felt sick.
“Where would you watch, as a guest?” she asked.
“The Tapestry Hunts I attended were more elaborate than this. We would usually have silk chairs and tents.”
The horn blew again. An anguished yowl pieced the air, freezing Mouse’s blood. Then the forest went silent.
“They caught the creature,” Thornwood said. Pity studded his words. “We must go. Who knows if it will resurrect close by?”
Mouse followed him back onto the path. They traced their steps, quickly finding the hidden fork in the road. Although she was afraid of the creature, she was more afraid of the hunters. With every step, she strained to hear the horn.
They turned the final bend, and Mouse screamed.
The bear lay across the path in a pool of dark blood. The hole in its chest oozed from where the bullet hit it in life. Its eyes stared outward, blank and unseeing.
She tiptoed to the creature, ignoring Thornwood’s protest. Its fur flattened beneath her hands, and its skin was cold.
More than one wound marked its body. A long cut followed the curve of its hind leg, and a matching one slashed its shoulder. Another bullet wound pierced the back of its head, just above the ear.
Thornwood’s hand closed around Mouse’s arm, and she jerked back onto her feet.