The sensation was pleasant, almost springy, and much more fun than walking on pavement. At first Holly stepped slowly and carefully, testing each step in case she sank into the marsh beneath, but the track makers knew their job. The woven mat of branches, though it dipped at each footfall and sometimes water oozed between the cracks, diffused her weight, so she could walk through the marsh with confidence. The trail seemed long, for the track wound its way through the reeds. At first Holly was glad to hide, but as the trail lengthened, she grew anxious and kept parting and peering between reeds on either side, trying to see her destination while remaining hidden. The day was hot, insects buzzed and bit, and sweat beaded Holly’s face and trickled down the back of her neck. Pausing to wipe her face, she heard faint voices. Slowly she crept forward. The ground grew firmer. The track had brought her to a low mud bank, and the reeds gave way to an alder thicket and brambles. She peered through the branches.
