The Bone Forest by Robert Holdstock

myself are seen as "intruders, not to be trusted" and sent to the "hooves of the horses" by Ash. But she selects a key moment, a primary event in mythological time, when images occur that will last into the corrupted form: the burning man, the horses riding wild, the crushing of men below hooves.
    So is it Steven who has directed this aspect of Ash? Or is it Ash conforming to the
older
ritual?
    And how do I convince Ash to return me to that moment? And once there, how do I return Wynne-Jones safely?
    And how did my alter ego slip into this world from his own?
    A primary moment, a focus, may be the meeting point of many worlds simply because of its importance…
    I
must
return to that moment. Something happened there, something was there, that will explain the complication!
    You will have to offer her Steven. You fool! Don't you see ? You will have to offer her the boy. And then trust her. Can you trust her? Can WE trust her? She will not perform her magic without the gift she seeks. Fool!
But I came
back
. She cast me away, into a landscape both remote in time and place, but it was not a permanent dislocation. She is Steven's mythago. This has tempered the fury that might otherwise be present within her. I still have the necklet of wood and bones with which she dispatched me before; now I will hope to reason with her.
    He left the journal open on his desk and went through the house to begin to collect his supplies and equipment for the trek. At some point during the next ten minutes he was aware of the wafting smell of undergrowth in the house, and the sound of movement from his office. The visit was brief, and he caught sight of the shadow as it ran with uncanny speed back across the field to the woodland edge.
    A brief response, then, and without much interest Huxley returned to read what had been written.
    "Damnation!"
    He ran to the garden, dropping the journal as he went.
    "Come back!" he shouted. "You're wrong. I'm sure! Damn!"
    Now he was frightened. He swept up the journal, turned again to the scrawled line:
Steven is not safe from Ash. She must be destroyed
, and then flung the book into its hiding place.
    Now there was no time to lose. He roughly packed his sack, crammed whatever food lay to hand—bread, cheese, a piece of cold mutton—and almost demolished Jennifer as he ran to the garden.
    "Wait until dawn at least…" she said, recovering from the impact and helping him gather the spilled items from his sack.
    "I can't."
    "You're in a lather, George…"
    Furious, eyes blazing with panic, he hissed, "He's going to kill her! That will undo everything. Wynne-Jones, gone forever. Maybe…" He hesitated, and bit back the words, "Steven too."
    "I have to follow him," he went on, "and fast. God, he's so fast…"
    Jennifer sighed, seemed sad, then kissed her husband.
    "Off you go then. Be careful. For the boys' sake, and for mine."
    He made a feeble attempt at humor. "I'll return
with
Wynne-Jones, or on him…"
    "But lose his pipe, if you can," she added, then turned quickly away as her voice began to break.

SIXTEEN
    It took Huxley over four hours to locate the Horse Shrine, the longest search ever. He had been confident of the route, but became distracted by the sudden change in the wood from a stifling, chirruping zoo of green light and intense shade, to a silent, gloomy dell, where the overpowering smell of decay set his heart racing and his senses pounding. By moving too fast through this deadly glade he disorientated himself, and took hours to find some part of Ryhope Wood that prompted memory.
    At one point a blur of movement swept past him, noisily disappearing into the deep wood. At first he thought that it might be the gray-green man, overtaking him on his passage inward, but then remembered that his shadow was far ahead of him. More likely, then, the movement was one of the various forms of the Green Jack. As such he took precautionary maneuvers and measures against attack, keeping his leather flying jacket