Her pace slowed as the morning wore on.

Credence's thoughts turned from scenes of agony and revenge to contemplative musings on how far she had come since she first set off from home.

She had seen so much, met foes and friends, but she wasn't certain she'd been changed for the better.

As she passed the trees, she thought of what she'd done to the one in Ajo's world.

How her vines had choked it as fire burned its trunk from the inside.

And the tree that once contained Ajo's prisoners—she had destroyed it in her rage.

She wondered if the trees in the woods knew of her crimes, and if they felt resentment, or worse, vengeful for it.

Will they be angry over the trees I burned at the school? she thought with a shiver.

Would they retaliate and send a creature like the one that wore the Headmaster's face?

Credence approached the nearest tree and placed a hand on its trunk. She had new respect for these beings, now that she knew that they had minds, and a might, of their own.

"I've done something," she said, "and I should make it right."

She closed her eyes and concentrated, pushing magic into the wood beneath her hand.

I'm sorry for the pain I've caused.

Something tickled her skin, and when she opened her eyes she saw sprouts pouring from the cracks of the trunk. Their bright color overtook the black and brown, until a blanket of green, roughly shaped in her silhouette, covered a side of the trunk.

An imprint of Credence, formed of moss and dotted with flowers.

Her apology to the trees.

Many might call her foolish for wasting time on such an act, but Credence felt peace in performing it. She did not expect the trees to speak or give any indication that they had accepted her expression of regret.

But it was enough, she thought, to have made the effort.

"I don't wish to belong to your world anymore," she said. "Please, if you can hear me, let me leave in peace."

A breeze shook the branches of her audience, but it was not a confirmation that she had been heard.

Time will tell, Credence thought, whether the woods have decided to leave me alone or answer with fury.

***

When she came across a slow-moving river, Credence stopped to drink.

Her rest was interrupted by a chorus of voices, and when she searched for their owners her eyes found a strange band of travelers.

A group of mismatched animals, including a bear, a boar, a hawk, a frog, a bee, and a ladybug, were huddled several feet away on the same side of the river. On the bear's back was a woven basket large enough to fit a child inside, and under both of the animal's enormous arms were two dead salmon. None of the animals had noticed the girl nearby, but were engrossed in what appeared to be a very serious debate.

Curious, Credence turned her ear towards them, and was surprised and pleased to discover that she could understand their words as clearly as if they spoke the language of humans.

"Too deep," the bear whined in a deep boom. "Bear drown."

"Water's not that deep," came the hoarse grunt of the boar. "It's barely enough for the frog to drown in!"

"My dear sir," countered the frog, his voice high-pitched and sophisticated, "do not presume anything. This predicament is wholly out of your element. I will be the best judge of water that is deep and water that is not."

"Too deep!" the bear wailed.

"You're the biggest brute of us all!" the boar said. "You should be the least worried about that puddle! I'm the only one in real danger of drowning!"

"Don't like," the bear moaned. "Don't like at all."

"We must cross it soon," the hawk said, her voice gentle but tinged with concern. "My son is on the other side, and he'll be hungry."

"You could simply fly across," the boar said.

"I won't leave you," the hawk replied, "but time is scarce."

"DON'T LIKE IT!" the bear roared and slammed his bottom onto the ground with such force that it wobbled the balance of the boar and frog.

Credence drew closer, too interested to bother hiding her presence.

"Oh, you precious thing," the ladybug said with a giggle as she flew around the bear's head, "you've nothing to worry about with us here! We won't let you get hurt."

"Speak for yourself," mumbled the boar.

"Now, now," the frog scolded, "we've agreed we're in this together. If one stays behind, none can move forward."

"What do you suggest then?" asked the bee with obvious impatience.

"Allow me a short dive," the frog said. "I will test the depths and report back promptly."

Leaving no time for a rebuttal, the frog leapt gracefully into the water.

"Frog drown!" the bear yelled. His eyes were wet, promising a mighty tantrum.

"He can swim, dear one," the hawk comforted. "He's the best at it, I promise."

"No, no, NO!" The bear swung his feet and arms, forcing his companions to dodge out of the way.

"I still don't see the point in bringing him," the boar whispered to the hawk.

"He's earned the right to be here. He sacrificed a lot for us. For you."

The boar snorted but did not argue.

"There better be enough of him left to fight," the boar said. "If anything comes along to—what is that?!"

Every animal turned in the same direction, and Credence was suddenly the center of attention. The band of travelers gawked at her, with fur and feathers and wings raised in alarm.

"That is a human," the bee said, horrified.

Her companions made disgruntled sounds.

Credence held up her hands, trying to soothe their worry. She spoke, hoping they would understand her.

"I mean no harm! I was drinking and I overheard you."

The boar was the first to find his courage.

"Go on, human! Your kind is trouble, even when they mean no harm!" He lowered his tusks to the ground in a threat. "Nothing here concerns you!"

Credence balked, less threatened by the boar's warning and more shocked that the animal answered her.

"I'm sorry, it's just...I can understand you! I've never been able to hear animals clearly when they speak."

"Animals?" the hawk asked.

"That's what you are."

"Not a nice sounding word, is it?" the ladybug said with disgust. "What an ugly language humans use! 'Animals'!"

"I said MOVE ON!" the boar yelled and dug his hoof into the dirt in preparation to charge.

Splashing diverted everyone's attention to the water as the frog re-emerged.

"Well," the frog panted, "it's certainly fit for Sir Bear to cross, but I believe Mr. Boar will need some help. Perhaps he could be carried?"

"Got bigger problems at the moment," the boar said and nodded towards Credence.

The frog's eyes grew wide when he saw her.

"Oh, my lady!" The frog hopped over to Credence, putting himself between her and the boar. He extended a long leg and bowed. "It's truly an honor to have you join us!"

"What are you talking about?" asked the bee.

"That's a human," said the hawk.

"No furs!" cried the bear.

"Don't you realize who this human is?" the frog said. "She's the Queen's granddaughter!"

He hopped closer to Credence and held out a slick hand.

"Please, my lady, allow me to greet you formally."

Hesitantly, Credence placed a finger in his hand, which the frog kissed like a gentleman.

"How do you know who I am?" Credence asked.

"Are we not the Queen's subjects? It's our duty to know her successor!"

"Successor? No, that's not true."

The frog's smile fell downward. He stroked his chin in thought and caught a passing gnat with his long tongue.

"Perhaps I have the wrong human. Your name is Cra—Cred—Crease? Goodness, I've forgotten the name."

"Credence?"

"Yes, that's the one! Credence. Is that not your name?"

"It is."

The frog clapped his sticky hands together. "I knew it! You, Credence, are the one the Queen has named to save us." Before she could disagree, the frog turned to his companions. "My friends, I am honored to present the Queen's heir!"

There was a collective gasp, though Credence felt the bear was only following the group's lead. They moved to inspect her, but Credence stepped away from their reach.

"You're wrong," she said. "I've only met the Queen once, and she did not seem moved to call me a friend, much less her heir. Even if she did, I wouldn't accept it."

"But my dear," the frog said, "it's your destiny."

"No," Credence replied sharply. "I want nothing to do with the Queen or the woods. Or destiny."

"If you're the Queen's granddaughter," the hawk said, "you should protect the woods. Why do you refuse—don't you want to see him fall?"

"Him?" Credence asked, though she had already guessed the name.

"The King of the Wood," the bee said.

"The Collector," the boar argued.

"His name is Ajo," the frog said in a chastising tone.

"After what he did to you, we assumed you would wish to lead the charge against him!" said the hawk.

"What did he do to me?" Credence asked carefully.

"Killed your family," the bee said, "after you attacked his tree and freed his captives."

"Is it true you had help?" the ladybug asked. "I heard there was another with you, but he died."

"There were indeed two," the hawk said, "but she smashed the cages while the other watched."

"He was the lookout," the bee said.

"She couldn't do it alone," the boar said. "At least four would have been needed to release that many!"

"But then you were taken prisoner," the hawk said. "The story says you were just a child when it happened. Oh, to to grow up under such torture! It's unthinkable!"

"We have wondered how you endured it," the frog added. "All those years under his brutal care. But you found a way to escape, and even freed the Queen!"

"The king was driven to madness after he discovered you were gone," said the bee. "He destroyed his own castle—and now he hunts the woods for his greatest threat."

"Would have been better if she stayed his prisoner," the boar said. "He became much worse when she escaped. She should have accepted her sacrifice to keep the woods safe. To keep our tormentor calm."

"What about the Queen?" the frog asked, obviously disgusted by the boar's comment. "She would still be imprisoned if not for this woman's escape."

"They both should have stayed in their cages," the boar answered. "It would have spared us a world of agony. The king was cruel, but not half as vicious as he became after she left."

"Don't breathe a word of that treason again," the frog admonished in a severe tone. "The Queen and Credence are our only chance at peace. They will save the woods."

"The tale of your heroism is widely known," the ladybug said, wanting to steer the mood towards hopefulness. "It gives us courage. You are the girl who defied a tyrant. Every moment of your life has been lived in opposition to our shared enemy. The Queen herself told the truth to all who would listen. That is why she has named you her heir."

"That's not what I heard," the boar mumbled. "I heard he was hunting the woods for his bride."

The frog scoffed. "Absolute nonsense."

They don't know the truth, Credence realized. They don't know they're speaking to Ajo's queen.

"You will face him," the frog continued, "and you will cast him into the darkness, where he can never crawl from to threaten us again. His reign is over, and we will not have to fight!"

The animals erupted into joyful noise.

"No, no—" Credence tried to interrupt, but they would not listen.

She clenched her fists and sent a punch of magic towards the trees. It hit one of the trunks and grew a crack that traveled through the bark like lightning. The tree bent with a loud groan and toppled into the river, sending a wave that drenched those on the bank.

Effectively drowning their cheers.

"The Queen is lying!" Credence snarled. "I will not save you or anyone else! I'm leaving this damned wood forever!"

She looked at the tree she had felled and a pang of guilt hit her, that she had hurt another life in the woods.

The animals exchanged anxious glances.

The frog, still closest to Credence, tugged at the hem of her tattered dress.

"If you please, raise me up."

Unsure of his intention, Credence lowered her hand and the frog jumped into her palm. She lifted him to her face and he studied her, searching for something. He placed his cold hands on her cheeks and wiped away a tear he found there.

"Oh, I see," he whispered in horror. "It will be war after all." He looked at his companions. "We'll move forward." He motioned to the tree that lay across the river. "At the very least, we have a way to cross the water."

"Where are you going?" Credence asked.

The frog's eyes were filled with disappointment, and Credence was almost ashamed for causing it.

"If you will not fight the evil that plagues the woods, we must go to battle in your stead."

"I've fought Ajo," Credence bit back. "I've done enough."

"Who won?" the bear interjected, startling everyone with his loud voice.

"She won, of course," the boar said, "or she wouldn't be standing here."

"But the Collector still lives," the ladybug said.

"Ajo still lives," the frog corrected her. "We know the truth now, so let's not return to old epithets. The Queen's heir will not fulfill her destiny, so we must deal with the King of the Wood ourselves."

"You can't," Credence said weakly. "He'll kill you."

"And yet, we must try."

"You could leave the woods."

"Where would we go, my dear Credence? Where could such people find suitable homes?"

The frog gave a gentle pat on her hand and Credence lowered him to the ground.

"We have the Queen," the frog assured her, "and we have hope."

"Ajo imprisoned her before. What makes you think he won't do it again?"

"What does it matter to you?" the boar asked indignantly.

"Mind your manners!" the frog reprimanded.

"I will not," the boar huffed. "She doesn't care what becomes of the woods! She doesn't care for you or your children!"

"I did try," Credence said bitterly. "You've no idea what I've been through. What it was like with him. He—"

She stopped herself before the words 'broke my heart' could leave her lips.

Credence wiped her eyes, ashamed that she had allowed herself to be consumed by grief, and angry that her heart could still feel the pangs of betrayal that she had sworn to forget.

This, she was reminded, was the reason she had to quit the woods as soon as possible.

"It's all right," the frog comforted. "You are strong, Credence, but even the strongest have moments of doubt. Just as the weakest, like us, must sometimes grasp our moments of courage."

He stretched his body to stand tall and pointed to his belly. Across it was a faint, jagged scar.

"I earned this by challenging his rule," the frog said.

"And I got this 'cause I wouldn't bow low enough," the boar said and turned to show his hind leg. It was missing fur, and on the exposed skin were several deep marks lined in a row, the remnants of an awful bite.

Each animal took their turn, revealing wounds they had sustained for their defiance. Missing legs and broken wings, scars from gruesome injuries, each one with a story about challenging the King of the Wood.

The hawk landed on the bear's shoulder and placed a kiss on his ear.

"The Collec—the king—threw him against the ground," she explained. "Over and over, because he was protecting others. We hoped his size and strength would save him, but—"

"Brain's gone!" the bear said and pointed to his nose. It was only now when Credence looked at him that she saw a glimmer of sadness behind his eyes, as if there was an intelligence trapped within, unable to show itself.

"He took care of us," the hawk said, "and now we take care of him."

"We were the lucky ones, because we survived," the ladybug said. "Now we seek the Queen. She is raising an army to challenge her son—"

"And we mean to join it," the bee finished.

"What little we have left to offer," the boar added.

"We've spent far too long under his dreadful thumb," the hawk said, "and at great cost. His detestable minions threatened my children when they were just eggs. Every day they came to my nest and promised to eat one if I left. But how was I to hunt for food without leaving? 'Lose an egg or a meal', they told me. When my children hatched I feared for them even more, for their cries brought the wolves." The hawk nestled her face against the bear's fur. "I left one morning with a nest full of babies and returned to find two were gone. A third was lost because I could not feed it enough. Now I'm mother to only one. I hope he's waiting in our nest, but..."

The others spared her a moment of silence.

"Do you understand what's at stake, my lady?" the frog asked. "If we do not fight, the woods will remain in this awful state. Its people will continue to be slaughtered or enslaved until there is no one left. Our families—our children! We cannot leave, but must fight for our home." His chest had puffed out in pride, and the other animals looked at the frog with admiration, moved by his words. "Will you help us? Will you follow us to the Queen?"

"We would be endlessly grateful," the hawk said.

"You could change the course of the fight," the ladybug said.

"We'll help each other," the bee joined.

The bear lifted his arms to display the salmon he carried.

"Fishes. Eats."

The animals looked at the boar expectantly.

"It might be a good thing to have you with us," he grumbled with a shrug.

They waited for her reply.

A new path opened before Credence.

Friends. A destination. Purpose.

"You fight for your family," she said at last, "but I've lost mine. There is nothing and no one left in the woods for me. I wish you luck in your war, but I will not be a part of it."

***

The animals watched Credence in the distance.

"Were we right to let her leave?" the hawk asked.

"Time will tell," the frog answered. "I think the Queen would approve of our attempt."

"Will she come back?" the bee asked.

"I doubt it," said the boar.

The frog shrugged. "Who knows? All we can do is our part, and hope that we made even the smallest difference."