Keeper of Reign, Page 4

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  That was what Jules recalled of that conversation.

  “We must locate Mom’s Ancient Book,” he quickly said. “Rals, you–” Then he noticed Miranda staring at him. It wasn’t like her not to voice an opinion. “Don’t be afraid,” he said to her. He wondered if Saul ever told her they were a Keeper family. He scanned the top of the mantel where his mother’s Book usually sat, but nothing was on it. Or on the strewn floor, either.

  Before he could utter another word a tap tap tap on the window sill, followed by soft footsteps as if inching closer to the open front door alarmed him further. A rustling outside sent shivers up his spine. Jules put a finger to his lips and gestured to everyone to stay quiet.

  Had the intruders returned? How many were they?

  Soon the scrunching of dried leaves outside grew louder. Who were these shifting below the front windows?

  Bitha said. “Where to hide?” Her eyes flitted from one overturned piece of furniture to another.

  Tippy, clutching her red stone, scrambled to the kitchen table, the only furniture still upright in the room, and sat beneath it, hugging her knees. She rocked herself back and forth, her lips ashen gray. Tst Tst and Bitha looked at her pale face and crawled after her. They sat flanking her and hugged her, each with an arm about her thin shoulders.

  “Where to hide?” Ralston whispered and tugged at Jules, his nails digging into Jules’s arm.

  Jules gestured to follow him but Tippy didn’t budge. She kept shaking her head and pointing at the window. “Tippy, quick.” He kept his voice calm.

  “I want Mama!” Tippy cried, too loudly.

  “I want Mama, too,” Jules said, quietly. “But Mama would want you to hide. Ralston, help her.” To himself he muttered, “They’re after Mom’s Book.”

  A faint smell had wafted into the room. Sweet, almost too sweet, but masking a pungent fragrance. He breathed in deeply and the pungent fragrance cut into his nostrils like acrid acid seeking to lodge itself inside his brain. Strange!

  He pushed the small of Tst Tst’s back to get her to move quicker. “I know where to go.”

  “The attic’s too small,” Ralston whispered back.

  8 - SECRET CELLAR

  “NOT THE ATTIC.” Jules rushed to the dining room wall and unhitched two dragonfly lanterns from their hangers. The burglars seemed to have missed them. For an instant, he worried about his pouch of stones behind the hearth brick. His grandfather and he had collected many of the stones together, a last vestige of a token of Grandpa. “I know a secret hideout.” He pointed at the cloak closet.

  Miranda said, “We can’t all fit in there!”

  Just then, whoever, or whatever, skulking outside, scraped at the bark that acted as the shingles of their tree home. The grating made Jules’s teeth tingle, and he clenched them tighter to stop the discomfort. It sounded like metal claws upon wood.

  The window shutters rattled as if a strong wind wanted to pry the wooden slats loose and slip in. Maybe whoever ransacked their home didn’t find Mom’s Book and had come back for a second try. He scanned the room for any sign of the Book—nothing. Should he hide and leave the skulker to find it? No time.

  Jules opened the closet door and shoved Tippy. The others followed suit.

  Once inside the cramped closet, Jules stooped and cleared away the mountainous pile of apparel on the floor. (These cloaks had fallen off their twig hangers.) Tumbled clothes obscured a trap door. Lifting the insert with some difficulty, as the panel appeared jammed, Jules jerked the board to the left to make room for his siblings and Miranda to rally on ahead into the gaping hole in the floor. Steps hewn out of rough wood greeted them. Save for the light from the dragonfly-shaped lanterns in Jules’s grasp, the passage wound into darkness. Steps corkscrewed round and round to somewhere deep beneath the house.

  “Here.” He shoved a lantern into Bitha’s hand. “Hold it higher.”

  Once Miranda entered, Jules stepped down into the passage, ducked and slid the trap door back into place. He squeezed past the rest and led them down the winding stony steps. Some of the stones came loose as they edged their way in a single file down, down the narrow tunnel. The air smelled hot and musty as if moths had once lived there. Miranda, who was last in line, slipped once and almost pulled Ralston down with her as she grabbed his arm.

  Ralston said, “How far down does this go?”

  But Jules didn’t answer him. The dragonfly lanterns made diagonal patterns of light on the rough wooden walls on both sides of the crusading party.

  “Where are you taking us?” Bitha’s voice quivered, and her words echoed in the darkness.

  “Grandpa showed me this place before he left.”

  “Why didn’t you inform us about this?” Tst Tst said.

  “I said ‘secret’ hide-out.”

  Suddenly Jules’s outstretched hand hit a wall. He groped on it and found a rusty ring like a knocker in the middle of the expansive wall.

  “I saw Grandpa do this.” He twisted the ring round and round a few times till a click echoed in the tunnel. He slid the creaky slider of a hidden latch and pushed the wall open.

  When Jules stepped onto the stony floor of the cellar the cold traveled from the ground through his strapped sandals and bit the soles of his feet. The cold air enveloped him, and his nose started to run. He tilted his head into his shoulder and wiped his nose into his cloak. With the dragonfly lantern held above his head he saw books lined from floor to ceiling in rows and rows of bookcases, some against the four walls and others back to back in the middle of the cellar with its high ceiling. Just as he’d seen them last. The bookcases themselves looked like giant buildings at least thirty or forty times taller than Jules.

  The others stood by the doorway and gaped.

  “Why didn’t Grandpa tell us of this—this library?” Tst Tst’s eyes stared accusingly at Jules.

  He shrugged. “Maybe you were too young—I don’t know. We shouldn’t argue about this, we don’t even know where Mom is.”

  On hearing this, Tst Tst and Bitha cried, “They took her!”

  Tst Tst whimpered between sobs.

  “Do you think the intruders are inside our living room, now?” Ralston’s voice quaked.

  Miranda said, “These books are made for giants! There’s no way a normal Elfie can handle them.”

  Jules had never heard her so surprised. “They were for normal people. Once. Elfies were normal, once.”

  She took the lantern from Bitha and moved toward the nearest bookcase.

  “Where did your grandpa get all these books?”

  “It’s a family thing. An inheritance. You wouldn’t find it interesting.”

  “Like jipsy I wouldn’t? How’d they even bring these giant books through your tiny doors?” She faced Jules squarely, her blue eyes burning like emeralds. “Tell me your secrets.”

  Jules felt Ralston nudging the small of his back with an elbow. “It’s common knowledge we all shrank, right?”

  “So these bookcases and books didn’t? What’s so special about them?”

  “My grandpa said they belonged to the King.”

  “Wait.” Miranda stretched her arm and shoved his chest. “How are you related to this exactly? To the King? Jules, we’ve been friends since forever and you kept this from me?”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “Explain.”

  “If you help me find our Book maybe I’ll tell you.” Could Mom have kept it down here, and that’s why it was not on the mantel?

  “Making contracts, are we? And what Book? This place is books galore—take your pick—which one do you want? Ha! If you can lift even the smallest.” And she doubled over and broke out laughing, the lantern in the other hand swinging wildly.

  Jules had never seen her like this.

  Miranda strode to one of the shelves and ran her hand on a book’s spine. “They’re all in alphabetical order. What’s the Book like? The one we�
��re supposed to look for?”

  “It’s about this big.” Jules held a span about double his hand’s width for the height and one hand length for the book’s width. “And it has a double ‘X’ on its spine.”

  Miranda glanced at the looming bookcases. “Nothing’s that small here unless it’s behind one of these giants, which means you can forget about finding it unless we have ten years.”

  Miranda was right. How could they even move these giants, as she’d termed them? Maybe if they had days—which they didn’t. Jules glimpsed at Tippy squatting in a dark corner, small and forlorn, cupping her stone and sobbing into it.

  “Maybe we should stay quiet.” He walked over to Tippy and was about to sit with her when a tapping sound jerked him upright and he turned around.

  “Shh!” he said.

  Everyone stared at the doorway. No one had slid the oaken door shut. Someone must have found the trap door in the closet! Jules wanted to kick himself as he realized he hadn’t pulled the fallen clothes back over the entry as his mother always had. His eyes scanned the library.

  This had seemed like a safe place, but where could they hide amongst the books? They couldn’t possibly climb the shelves. Before he could summon them to maybe squeeze between some of the books the sound of metal squeaking and a loud click sounded.

  “Quick!” Jules pulled Tippy to her feet while gesturing to the others, who were staring at him with fear on their faces, as if he had answers to every trouble.

  They followed him as he ran down the hallway of bookcases, his lantern lighting the path only a few feet at a time.

  “Turn the lantern off once you hide.” He shoved Tippy into a slight gap between two books to get behind them.

  A much smaller book fell, a rare Elfie-sized one, and he quickly picked it up and shoved it back so no one could guess Tippy stood behind the tall ones. He was just about to slip behind another book when the door creaked open. His last thought before light spilled into the room was, at least the others were safely hidden.

  9 - ANCIENT BOOK

  JULES PEEKED. THE intruder had a walking stick and was tap-tapping the stone floor as his feet shuffled across the library ground. Except for the light from his lantern, a rusty can with a stumpy candle within, the old library was as dark as a cave. He kept his lantern low, making it impossible to see his face.

  He and Miranda turned their dragonfly lanterns off just as they’d heard the door creak open as it slid on its tracks. From behind a particularly dusty book, Jules peered at the dark form shuffling and waving his stick as though testing every bit of stone on the floor. Jules felt his nose tingle as the moments wore on.

  Then it happened. He sneezed. The muffled explosion wasn’t loud, but in the dead silence of the library with only the intruder’s shuffling feet and the distinct tapping of the stick, it might as well have been a blast.

  Instantly, the tapping and shuffling ceased. From almost nowhere the metal tip of a stick rapped Jules gently on the crown of his head.

  “Come out,” the intruder demanded, voice stern and angry.

  Jules could hardly believe it.

  “Mr. Saul?” What was Miranda’s grandfather doing there? He slipped out from his hiding spot above a not-so-tall book and landed next to the old man’s lantern, as he turned his own on.

  “Where’s Miranda?” His usual gruff voice sounded fiercer than ever.

  Behind one of the books Miranda said, “How’d you find me?”

  “It’s irrelevant.”

  Jules said, “Mr. Saul, how’d you know about this place?”

  “I know more than you think, boy.”

  “Did you see anyone upstairs?”

  “Your place’s a wreck, that’s for sure. Where’s Erin? I need to speak with your mother about you kidnapping Miranda.”

  “My mother isn’t here and I never kidnapped Miranda. Tell him, Miranda.”

  Saul Turpentine peeked over his silver-rimmed glasses and peered at Jules’s face. His smooth bald head seemed to pick up the glow of the lantern and radiate strangely. “If I ever catch you taking my granddaughter for a secret rendezvous like this I’ll make sure your mother grounds you. Indefinitely.”

  Jules hated asking Saul for help, but what choice did he have? And how’d Saul know about the secret cellar? “I wish you’d find Mother for us.”

  “She’s not here?”

  Jules shook his head. “We think whoever wrecked our home kidnapped her.”

  Tst Tst blurted, “Jules thinks they stole Mom’s Book.”

  Jules may have forgotten many stories from the Ancients but who could forget the warning against Keepers losing their Books? It was the fear most Keepers dreaded. If Mom’s Book was lost, her days, and theirs, too, were numbered.

  Even in the dim light Jules saw Saul’s face turn ashen.

  “Are you sure?” Saul asked.

  By now the other kids were hiding behind Jules, looking curious and afraid. They’d heard of Saul Turpentine’s bad temper and his even worse mouth. When he started spewing darts the best defense was to run. Or hide.

  Jules said, “I’m not sure about anything. Mom’s not here—that’s for sure. And I don’t remember when I last saw her Book. But Mom should have been home—she made potato soup.”

  “Maybe she ran off when she heard the burglars?” Saul didn’t sound convincing.

  “Or Scorpents?” Jules said.

  “You heard about them prowling around, too?”

  Jules nodded. “Holden swore he saw one, and Mrs. Lacework also warned Mom about birds and we almost—but, but how’d you know about this place?”

  Saul turned his gaze toward the bookcases around him. “Your grandpa. Brought me here once or twice, way back, before—”

  Miranda said, “Before your fight?”

  “It’s irrelevant. What’s important is finding Erin. Let’s hope she had the sense to hide.”

  Tippy’s sob startled Jules and he turned to reach for her hand. “It’s okay. We’ll find Mom.”

  Jules glanced at Miranda. “Mr. Saul, we need to find my mother’s Book.”

  “Book?” Saul said, as if hearing it for the first time.

  Gehzurolle was always on the lookout for Keepers and their Books.

  He made it his life’s mission to destroy Keepers, and those without their Books ran vulnerable. Rumor had it at least one Keeper family was lost forever. No one recalled the lineage, nor the Book they once were ordained to keep.

  Jules drew a deep breath and forged on even though his mother had warned him not to advertise they were a Keeper family. But Saul knew, even if Miranda didn’t, and this wasn’t the time to keep secrets from neighbors. “Her Ancient Book. Maybe Grandpa told you?”

  “Let’s look for your mother first.” Saul looked hesitant.

  10 - KEEPER

  THE MESS IN the living room still upset Jules and his company as they came tiptoeing out of the closet door.

  “We can’t,” Saul said, brusquely, “lose any more time. Without her Book your mother cannot hide from Gehzurolle. Would you have any clue as to where she might hide such a Book?”

  “But I’m hungry and thirsty,” Tst Tst announced.

  “A little hunger never killed anyone.” Saul said, as he dragged Miranda by her arm out of the home.

  “But where could Mom be?” Tst Tst asked.

  “I’ll go ask the Laceworks if they’ve seen your mother.” Saul shook his head and tsk-tsked all the way to the tottering door.

  “Miranda can stay here with us,” Jules quickly added.

  Saul cast him a murderous stare. “Miranda comes with me. You stay here and wait. Don’t go out—it’s dangerous.” He stalked out the door dragging Miranda behind him. She seemed helpless in the old man’s grip.

  Jules wanted to ask why he’d leave since danger lurked outdoors, but the old man stomped out with much speed and slammed the tottering door behind him.

  “What are we going to do if Mr. Saul doesn’t find Mom?” Ralston aske
d.

  Tst Tst and Tippy started crying, and Jules shot him a glare and pulled him aside. “I think we should look for Mom’s Book. We might find answers.”

  Ralston said, “Answers to what?”

  “To what’s happened. I know Mom’s been very careful not to let anyone know she’s the Keeper.”

  “But you told Mr. Saul.”

  “Mr. Saul already knew. He and Grandpa were buddies before their fallout. Besides, the last time I saw that Book was when Grandpa showed it to Mr. Saul and they sat right there.” He pointed to the chairs near the fireplace.

  “You think Mr. Saul ratted on us? Told spies and they told the Scorpents, and they—”

  “Stop! I have to think.” Jules rummaged within his cloak and came upon his grandpa’s old contact journal he’d found.

  He rubbed his fingers over the dark brown leather cover, smooth from constant touch, and even though two or three cracks ran across the leather, it still felt supple and exuded a leathery smell. Typical of most contact journals, Leroy’s contained names of hundreds of Elfies he’d known in his long life.

  Jules showed Ralston the journal. “I found this the day after Grandpa disappeared, under my pouch in that hearth hiding spot. Maybe he meant for me to have it. But I wonder why.”

  Ralston took the journal, leafed through the pages and handed it back to Jules. “But there’s a gazillion names in there.”

  “But only one is circled.” He shoved the page for Ralston to see. “And in red, too.”

  “Mosche Falstaff? Who’s he?”

  “Can’t you remember anything? Falstaff. That’s the name of the last Keeper who disappeared with Petra, the gift, centuries ago.”

  “So? That Falstaff can’t possibly be alive.”

  “Maybe this Falstaff’s related to that other Falstaff. Also, Mom said Grandpa wanted to look for Mosche Falstaff but he wouldn’t elaborate— just that it was better for us not to know details.”

  “But why would Grandpa want to visit him?”

  Jules drew a deep breath. “It was my fault.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Grandpa wouldn’t have gone if it hadn’t been for me.

  And I know he wanted to visit Mosche—I overheard something.”

  “What?”

  “Tell you later—now, we have to figure what to do, in case we don’t find Mom.”

  “Could we look for Dad?”

  “He could be anywhere. But that’s a possibility.”

  “If Mosche Falstaff’s from the ‘accursed’ family, was it safe for Grandpa to visit him?”

  Jules nodded. “That’s what Mom said. But Grandpa said we’re all affected anyway.”

  “I hate to break up your party,” Bitha said, joining the two. “But we need to feed Tippy. She’s eating the floor.”

  Tippy and Tst Tst both sat cross-legged under the kitchen table, having successfully scooped the potato chunks from somewhere and placed these in the walnut dishes.

  “Stop!” Jules smacked the dish in Tippy’s clutch and the contents spilled onto the floor. “If Scorpents stepped on these they could be toxic.”

  11- STRANGE CLUES

  TST TST SET her walnut bowl on her lap. “But we got these from the pot.” She pointed to another soup pot that was still on the stove. Jules and Bitha went to inspect and there the pot stood half filled with the thick chunks of potatoes and leeks peeking amongst the creamy base.

  Bitha said, “That’s odd. Somebody definitely spilled soup on the floor. How is it that only some of the soup spilled—look there’s the other pot under the chair.” She looked confusedly from the overturned pot to the one on the stove.

  Jules said, “We need a plan. Let’s check what’s missing.” He rushed to the hearth and pried the loose brick to the side. He reached his arm deep and thought he felt the soft nap of the pouch but then he jerked his hand back out and sucked on his finger.” Ouch!”

  Ralston said, “We can’t afford to lose your pouch—maybe the only way to buy things if we have to look for Mom or Dad.”

  Jules glared at him.

  Ralston said, “What’s wrong?”

  Jules reached back into the hole, this time less enthusiastically. “Something sharp.” When he pulled it out he stared at the shard of glass in his hand. “Hold this, Rals.”

  Ralston held the sharp edge gingerly. “Is it yours?”

  “Would I put something sharp like that to cut myself up?” Jules then brought out his pouch, and sighed. He gave its contents a quick peek and slipped the soft pouch into his cloak pocket.

  “It’s a good thing the burglars missed that,” Ralston said. “Should we toss this?” He passed the shard to Jules who turned it over.

  “Some words here.” He read, “‘—ook within.’ What’s that mean?”

  Bitha came over. “You never noticed it before?” She shone the dragonfly lamp into the hole. “It’s a lot deeper than I thought.”

  Jules peered in as well. “Nothing else in there.”

  Ralston said, “‘—ook within’? Look within?”

  Bitha said, “Book within?”

  Tst Tst said, “Cook within would be good. Or maybe it’s supposed to be a warning like, ‘crook within.’”

  Jules wrapped the sharp mirrored glass with an old rag lying on the floor and placed it back in the hiding hole. “It’s too sharp to take with us. But it could mean something. Only we know of this hiding spot, so either Mom placed it there or Grandpa. But why?”

  “Maybe the person who hid it, found it, and saw it’s important. Like a clue.”

  “But what to?” Jules took the mirror out again, unwrapped it, and turned it over. It could have come from some antique since the back was tarnished.

  Bitha said, “Is anything missing besides our Book?”

  They went about and agreed nothing was taken.

  Tst Tst said, “Maybe they only came for Mom.” And she and Tippy wept again.

  They waited for Saul but even when darkness completely swallowed the sky the old man still had not returned. First their dad left them for the war, then their grandparents drowned and now this? Could things get worse? Jules doubted.

  “But if Mom had her Book, the Scorpents couldn’t have taken her.

  The Book should have protected her. Unless she was separated from it. She didn’t even use the dragonfly lamp, which means she couldn’t have sighted Scorpents. She might be out there. Maybe hiding?”

  “We should stay put,” Ralston said.

  Jules was polishing off the last of the potato soup in the pot with a spoon from the kitchen sink. The buttery smell of the savory garlic had made his stomach rumble. He scraped the bottom of the pot for the last drop of the thick creamy potage and licked the spoon. And that was when he saw it.

  At the bottom of the pot. Written in black, with the permanent squid ink similar to the ink Ralston made. The writing was faint but Jules read it: “Lacework.”

  Ralston peered over Jules’s shoulder and looked at the message. “Did Mom write it? Like a message she didn’t want anyone else to see?”

  Jules said, “That was risky. How’d she know I’d peer into the pot?”

  Tst Tst came over and peered in too. “Everyone knows you’d die for potato soup.”

  Bitha dragged Tippy by the wrist and looked in, too. “But does this mean she’d gone to the Laceworks’? Or she wants us there? How do we even know Mom wrote it? She wouldn’t leave us here to the burglars.”

  Jules traced the words with his forefinger. “Unless she didn’t have a choice. Anyway, we can’t stay here.”

  Ralston said, “Let’s go to the Laceworks’. Maybe we can ask Holden.”

  Jules said, “I’d rather eat glass, but what choice do we have? We must look for Mom, or something.”

  “But it’s dark outside,” Bitha said. “Mr. Saul said to stay put.”

  Jules said, “We have our dragonfly lanterns.”

  Bitha said, “But what if we’re not hiding from Scorpents
? Besides, we only have two left. Miranda took one.”

  Jules said, “Maybe she saw the Scorpents and needs it. Two’s enough.”

  “What if Mom isn’t at the Laceworks’? Then what?”

  “Stop it, Bitha!” Jules saw his sister’s round eyes and softened his tone.

  “We go to the Laceworks’ and if Mom’s not there, we’ll ask Mrs. L for help.

  You and the girls stay with her and Holden. Ralston and I can see if the Taylors or the Bradfords have seen her.”

  “And if they haven’t?”

  “Stop it!” Jules looked at the strewn room.

  Tippy came over and handed him her sardius. “You can pay for things with it.”

  He smiled at Tippy. “You keep it. Let’s pack some food and stuff in a couple of pillowcases, in case we need to stay away for a while.”

  He saw his sisters’ eyes widen. “Worse come to worse, we will find Dad. Dad’ll know what to do. Mrs. L might know where he could be. Mr. L’s camp’s not far from Dad’s.”

  Bitha said, “But they’re fighting in a war!”

  12 - DRAGONFLY LANTERN

  AS THEY WERE about to leave, a persistent thudding on the front window startled them.

  The girls froze. Even Jules held his breath. Could it be Saul back and tapping with his cane? But the rapping sounded more like thudding, different from the sharp metallic tap tap the end of Saul’s cane made.

  “Shh!” He motioned with his arm toward the closet. Not again!

  But Tippy ran to the window and squeaked, “Fiesty! Fiesty’s back!” When they flung open the shutters, Fiesty flitted about, just as good as new.

  “I hate to say this,” Jules said, and looked at the faces staring at him, “but we can’t take Fiesty along. It’ll be too—obvious.” What if they had to hide in the undergrowth? Fiesty’s presence might give them away.

  After much argument, and since he was outnumbered, Jules gave in. Especially after Tst Tst reminded him, “Fiesty’s of the breed found only in the King’s garden centuries ago.” Grandpa had said this.

  When everyone was out, Jules turned to face the living room. “Goodbye,” he whispered to the broken things on the floor, but, naturally, no one answered him.

  “I wish we didn’t have to leave.” Bitha sighed as she looked back at the house.

  “Would you rather wait here for them to come get you?” Jules asked.

  Bitha rolled her eyes at him. “I just get the feeling we won’t be back for a while.”

  He led them in a single file down the pebbled path with Ralston way in the back holding on to a blue ribbon they had harnessed over Fiesty to make sure he followed them.

  Tippy clung to Jules’s cloak and Tst Tst clung to Tippy’s other hand, which still clutched onto her sardius. Jules shot a glance or two up at the branches. It had grown completely pitch dark but he felt comforted by the dragonfly lanterns. No Scorpent could see them with the lanterns’ light but what about their other enemies? Who were they?

  13 - WHISPERER

  MIRANDA PULLED HER arm free from Saul’s grip. “Why do you enjoy humiliating me?”

  “Why do you insist on leaving the house without my permission?” Saul paced his breathing and placed a hand to his chest.

  “I’m not a piece of furniture you can set in the corner and expect to stay put.”

  “I will not let history repeat itself. You know our situation. We must take extra precautions.”

  “You must take extra precaution. Me? I have a nor-mal life.”

  “There’s nothing normal about what you’re doing, Miranda.” Saul’s eyes locked with his granddaughter’s. Blue like the seamless sky. How similar her eyes were to Chrystle’s. It was as if his daughter had returned, been brought back to life, after all these years.

  “What—what are you talking about?” Miranda stumbled over her words.

  But Saul just turned and walked away, his head bowed low, shoulders drooped.

  “Grandpa! Wait.” Miranda kept pace with Saul’s brisk steps. “You think Mrs. Blaze is at the Laceworks’?” She wrung her hands and looked at the branches.

  “If she wasn’t captured.”

  “We have to get there quickly.”

  “Why so nervous?” When Saul looked up he reached out, grabbed Miranda’s arm again, and yanked her into the undergrowth.