Stardust Among the Shadows: The Magic of the Woods: Book One

By Rebecca Avati Yockey and Rebecca Avati

"You have all the power you need to do good in this world."

When the spirit of the forest calls Nora Gregory to save her home and mountainside town from a monstrous Penumbra, she figures it's her imagination. But then she and her best friend get trapped in the woods and discover a magical world she never could've dreamed of. Now she is fac

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steam Engine Productions
• Release date: May 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9781087951485

Book preview

1

Chapter One

The woods first spoke to me at my grandmother’s funeral. 

Years ago, I stood at the edge of the small crowd gathering around my grandma’s grave. Gray rain drizzled from the sky, soaking black umbrellas and forcing the adults to nudge the wet autumn leaves off their dress shoes. Grandma would have told everyone not to make a fuss over her and to get out of the rain. Without her, it was the first time I’d felt alone in a crowd. 

The wind rushed down the mountain corridors and whistled through the nearby forest of trees, smelling of cold water and fresh dirt. It blew the rain sideways, making our umbrellas almost useless. As the storm picked up, drowning out the words of the graveside preacher, soft words fluttered through the wind.

You are a creature of the forest, child.

 I looked around, blinking. Something about the voice reminded me of Grandma. It struck me like a waking dream, and I wasn’t afraid, even though it echoed off the surrounding mountains and through the forest. 

I wondered if she had sent the message, and stared at her rain-covered coffin. I wished someone would hold an umbrella over it. She deserved better.

The voice I heard–however magical–made me miss my grandmother even more. Memories of our life together weighed on my heart. I dropped my umbrella and stared into the clouds, my tears hidden among the raindrops. No one seemed to notice me, the little girl with long dark hair in a drenched black funeral dress.

A flash of light jolted my attention to the nearby woods. A silver streak dashed between the tree trunks like an untamed animal. Stunned, I looked to see my father’s reaction, but his attention remained focused on the gravesite. 

"Grandma?" I whispered, staring at the forest of trees.  

My feet wouldn’t budge when the service ended. The emptiness drained my strength. I wanted her to hold me in her arms like she always had when I was sad. 

I was a baby at my mom’s funeral, but part of me must have remembered because my body knew leaving a grave meant saying goodbye forever. Grandma and I belonged together, not separated by six feet of dirt. 

My dad finally nudged me toward the car. As we reached the cemetery’s edge, the voice floated through the air and rang through my mind again. 

Look for the light in the darkness. You are part of the woods.

I looked around and shook my head. The message was meaningless, but the tone… that voice… it felt like my grandmother. The shimmering thread of silver light bolted past me. I rubbed my eyes and realized again that no one else noticed. 

The light. Even though I went by Nora, Grandma always told me our shared name, Elenora, meant light.

That was three years ago—before the actual storms came and we all desperately needed more light.

***

I squeezed my eyes closed and clenched my fists as thunder shook the ground. Lightning crashed just outside the house. I dropped my guitar and darted to my bedroom window. 

To save your home, you must save the woods. 

Of course. I’d forgotten the voice from the forest, until a month ago, when the storms started. Now, it spoke to me daily, which was turning me into a crazy person. It wasn’t like I could control nature. 

From my third-floor bedroom of our creaky two-hundred-year-old house, I could see most of our property and nearly to the top of Everstone Mountain, where heavy black clouds lingered, blocking the moonlight.

It didn’t look like the lightning started any fires this time. But with the deep puddles of rainwater flooding our yard, and the apple orchard, it should’ve made it difficult to burn anything. So I sat back down with my guitar. 

Around Maple Hill we'd gotten daily reports of damaged houses, businesses having to close, or farms losing their crops. We even had a few days off from school because the power went out and floodwater blocked the bus route to the jr. high—not that I was complaining.  

It left all the adults all grumpy and distracted because life wasn’t going as they planned. 

But there was nothing I could do to solve the problem. And what did the voice mean?—Save the woods from what? Bad weather? Seriously.

The rain, which streaked down my window, picked up and pounded on the roof, competing with the sound of my guitar. I finally gave up and pulled my curtains wide to watch the storm.

Lightning flashed again, revealing my brother Charlie’s abandoned fort outside. The attic moaned when gusts of wind blasted into it. Our lights flickered, then went out completely.

My step-mom, Amy, an amazingly organized mother hen, charged into my room without knocking. Her red hair glowed in the light of her lantern and she carried an armful of supplies. 

Nora, are you okay? We’ve lost power again. 

I could have told her that.

Yeah, I’m okay Mom. It’s time for bed, anyway. 

Here’s a flashlight. If you need anything, come get me. She gave me a quick peck on the forehead and left. 

Thunder roared across the sky, and lightning streaked through the clouds. Within a few minutes, my little brother Max knocked on my door. His big brown eyes were wide open, and he clutched his stuffed bunny close to his chest. 

Can I sleep in here? His little voice and round cheeks got me every time. He climbed into my bed without waiting for an answer, just like he had for the last several weeks. 

Sure, buddy. I curled up next to him.

I wish I gotta play outside, Max muttered before drifting off to sleep. 

Make a wish on a star next time you see one. I ruffled my brother’s hair. 

Save your home. Save the forest. 

The voice fluttered in my mind through the silvery moment between wakefulness and sleep, then disappeared like a shooting star.

2

Chapter Two

Saturday was a miracle. Sunshine filtered in through my window, spilling onto the patchwork quilt I’d made with my grandmother. I bounced out of bed so quickly that I nearly stumbled to the floor. We hadn’t seen the sun for at least six weeks. With winter snow arriving quickly, it might be months before I got the chance to explore the mountainside again. 

I grabbed my stuff, left a note for my parents, then booked it over to my best friend, Ben’s, next door. The Pereira’s house looked like mine—all red brick and ivy, but it wasn’t two hundred years old. 

Ben opened the door wearing mismatched flannel pajamas. His eyes were half-closed and his dark hair looked like a mop. 

I already know what you want to do. He yawned and let me in. I gotta get changed. Oh, and I need some breakfast. I’ve had no food for a solid ten hours—unless nachos count. But those are only a snack.

Within a few minutes, Ben met me downstairs, and we were off, racing past my family’s home and through the field. Turbulent floodwater from the previous night’s storms filled the creek separating our neighborhood from the mountainside. So we had to slow down and carefully cross the old wooden bridge, holding tight to the rope railings. It still made me ‌shaky, even though I’d used the same bridge for years.

As soon as we crossed, we ran again.

I hurtled over fallen logs and dodged tree branches, chasing Ben through the damp autumn leaves. We caught our breaths in our favorite clearing, then I hoisted myself into the boughs of an enormous oak tree. I scrambled up the ancient limbs until they became too small to hold me and I soaked in the sunlight. 

A storm is coming, the now-familiar sound of the forest whispered to me. 

For a moment, I froze, tensing my shoulders. Then I did my best to shake off the feeling. I wanted to be outside and nothing ever came of the messages.

You don’t think it will rain, do you? I called down to Ben—the thought still nagging me.

Nah. I hope not anyhow. I brought a lucky penny, just in case. Ben held up a shiny penny that just happened to be in his pocket. You gonna come down outta that tree?

Give me a minute. I took in the sunlight for a moment before climbing down. The breeze, which carried the scent of fresh rain and pine, rustled through a sea of orange and yellow leaves and evergreens. Autumn in Maple Hill could be pure magic.

If only the weather held up.

When my feet hit the ground, and I put my backpack full of hiking supplies back on.

Race ya to the trail. Ben nudged my shoulder and took off before I answered. 

No fair! I squealed and chased him through the trees.

The temperature dropped, but only a little. I had to enjoy the weather while it lasted, so I shrugged off the darkness gathering in the sky. 

We’ll be fine, I told myself. 

Thunder crashed in the distance. 

In a matter of seconds, black clouds swallowed up the sunlight and massive drops of rain pounded down on us. Thunder rumbled again, closer than before, and Ben screamed, making me laugh.

You’d think you’d be used to storms by now. I bent down to catch my breath.

I think I’m more stressed by them this year. Ben hugged his arms close to his body.

It’s only a little rain. I stopped as thunder rattled the earth, unnaturally closer than moments before.

The creek’s gonna flood! Ben’s dark eyes opened as wide as baseballs. Why did we run so far?

We both turned to run toward home. 

Thunder and lightning crashed together. Too close. I prayed we would make it, and picked up my pace, even though my legs ached and my chest burned. When we got to the creek, torrents of white water buried the rickety old bridge, confirming my fears. 

Too deep to cross. 

Deadly. My grandma’s warning about flash floods echoed in my mind.

Across the creek and past the field, I saw the edge of my family’s apple orchard. But with the rushing floodwater, it may as well have been a hundred miles away.

We can’t cross here. I wasn’t sure Ben heard me through the deafening storm. 

Water drenched my long brown hair, making it look black. It spilled down my eyelashes and off my nose. Pulling my jacket closed against the freezing wind hardly helped. Let’s go upstream and see if another bridge is clear. I don’t want to think about being stuck out here all day. I’m freezing.

We should stay and wait for help. Ben watched the swift creek water. My stomach lurched as he furrowed his brow and stepped closer to the edge.

No one can help us here. They can’t build another bridge. My voice rose over the howling wind. I grabbed Ben’s elbow and pulled him back. Don’t get so close.

Chewing his lip, Ben pulled his ridiculous penny out of his pocket. This thing must be bad luck. 

I’ll get rid of it for you. I took the penny and hurled it into the rushing creek.

A startling bright silver light flashed as it hit the water and lingered for a moment after the penny disappeared. I swore I’d seen something like it before. 

Magic? My jaw dropped. It must’ve been my eyes playing tricks on me. Ben didn’t seem to notice anything unusual. Instead, he shook his head and mumbled to himself.

They could use a crane or a fire truck. No, it’s too far. I noticed his hands shaking. 

My eyes fixed on the water even though the silver light had faded. I stared until something moving in the tall grass caught my attention. Still stunned by the light, it took me a moment to realize that a tiny gray cat was trying to dig itself to safety under the foliage. 

Come here, little guy. Without thinking, I stepped closer to the water and snatched up the kitten. My foot slipped in the mud, landing me dangerously near the water’s edge. 

My heart thundered in my chest, and Ben yanked on my arm, pulling me back to safety. 

Are you crazy? He gaped at me. You fall in—you die!

I’m sorry. The soggy cat wriggled in my arms as I lifted it up to show Ben. He wouldn’t have made it.

Oh. Ben’s face softened. Whose cat is that? It looks like a baby.

I don’t know. He’s coming with us, I guess. I tucked the squirming wet cat inside my jacket as securely as possible and hugged it close to my body. We’ve got to get outta here.

Lightning, followed by an immediate crash of thunder, shook the ground. 

Let’s go! Ben yelped.

We ran along to the creek but had to create distance between us and the riverbank as it grew steeper and narrower farther upstream. The cat I carried in my jacket seemed to understand I was helping him. He hardly moved, aside from occasionally and nervously nudging me with his little nose.

The higher we ran, the larger the tree roots were, giving us some stable places for our feet to grip the ground. 

Wait! Nora! Wait!

I turned around to find Ben several yards behind me, hunched over and holding his side. He breathed hard, and little streams of water poured from his black hair onto his face.

Where’s the creek? He panted.

It’s right there. I pointed to the left but didn’t see it. So I trudged toward what looked like the riverbank, but it turned out to be a small hill. 

It has to be here. I frowned, circling back, with Ben following me. No creek. 

We were in trouble.

I stood in silence for a moment.

Nora, we’re lost. Ben’s teeth chattered, and he was ghostly pale. We can’t retrace our footprints in all of this water. 

As the pouring rain slowed enough for me to see farther into the forest, I searched for any clues about our location. Another silver light flashed like an animal running through the trees. It couldn’t have been lightning. 

Did you see that? I pointed between the trees, but the light was gone.

Ben squinted through the pouring rain. What? Is someone there?

No. I looked again, but there was nothing there.

I wished I could talk back to the forest. What are you trying to tell me?

I don’t know what to do. The cat wriggled in my arms. You can hold this little guy for a minute—he’s kind of warm.

I unzipped my jacket and handed the trembling kitten over to Ben. 

Your owner is going to be grateful. Ben pulled his coat around the cat and scratched its ears.

Yeah, if we ever get home. I glanced at the sky, which buried us in an ocean of thick gray clouds. My teeth chattered and my arms shivered.

The mountainside has safe places from the cold. The forest’s words echoed in my mind. 

I silently questioned the message. Where?

These messages made no sense. 

Ben offered a brave face. We should get to higher ground.

I wrapped my shivering arms around myself for warmth and tried to stop my teeth from chattering.

That’s a good idea. I nodded. I’d heard stories of hikers being washed away by flash floods. There were more trees the higher we hiked, so the ground was stronger. Even so, we had to fight against streams of rainwater cascading down the mountain and testing our balance. After climbing over a patch of rocky terrain, I spotted a cluster of towering pine trees. They were enormous—probably as old as the mountain itself.

The kitten in Ben’s jacket popped its head out to look around. But ducked back down when the rain splashed his tiny face. 

The thunder crashed farther away, and the lightning slipped into a faint glimmer in the distance, making it safe to approach the trees. 

Check this out, I said to Ben, pulling back some branches of the tallest tree. They reached all the way to the ground, creating something of a room with a thick brown floor of fallen foliage. 

It’s better than nothing. Ben sighed, and we crawled underneath the enormous evergreen, and fell to our backs, our chests heaving and our legs aching.

Eventually, I pulled myself over to lean against the tree trunk and instinctively buried my cold, wet legs with dry pine needles for warmth—a survival trick I’d learned from my dad. Ben watched and copied my actions and unzipped his jacket to free the kitten. 

These pine needles are poking me, but they’re warming up my legs a little. Ben tipped his head to the side and nodded. 

Yeah, it’s just like home,