Chapter Eight No Good Trolls and Rotten Witches Clasping the amulet with one hand and Emma’s books in the other, Cotton led us along a path that took a sharp left into the woods. We wandered for miles on foot, looking for the king. Nobody seemed to know where he was. He hadn’t been seen anywhere. Twice, we ducked behind spindly pines trees to avoid the flying witches. Once at the top of the hill I froze. Down the other side, dusty fields stretched to the horizon. Plains were strewn with battalions of warriors, their weapons and armor glinting in the harsh light. “C’mon,” Cotton told me. “Let’s get out of here.” But it was getting dark, and no matter which way we turned hungry-looking characters started coming out from behind the trees to play. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m a city boy. I don’t scare easy. But Ann tar had a totally different feel from Seattle. Back home, everything seemed close. It didn’t matter how big the city was, you could get anywhere without getting lost. The street pattern and the bus routes made sense. There was a system to how things worked. …show more content…
Ann tar wasn’t like that. It was spread out, chaotic, hard to maneuver. It reminded me of Mount Baker’s trials. It wasn’t enough for Ann tar to be big, it also strange and scary and filled with witches, too. I didn’t know how we were ever going to find the king or the key or my mom. We walked past dwarves, imps, and gigantic one-eyed cyclops, who looked at us like they were trying to figure if we were worth the trouble of eating. As we hurried passed the entrance of a cave, a voice from the darkness said, “Hey,