The Fire Trees and the Mist
by Melanie Singer
Bree’s heart pounded as she scoured the mist for her little brother. She squeezed her eyes shut but couldn’t stop remembering.
“Out Little Pest. Did you not see the sign on the door?” She pointed to her brother’s photo, marked like a No Parking sign.
Wen slipped past her and jumped on her bed. “I’m not leaving until you tell.”
“It’s not for babies.”
“I’m not a baby. I’m five.” Wen grabbed her phone.
“Fine,” she said, sickly satisfied that she’d scare the pants off the Little Pest.
“Hundreds of years ago the Fire Trees and the Mist appeared on the path at the edge of Afton.”
Bree told the whole story, of the fire trees and the mist and the boy who disappeared. When she finished, Wen asked,”Are the trees really on fire?”
Bree tried to ditch him, but he asked a gazillion questions, “Would it hurt to touch them? Who was the boy? Can I go there?” She’d cracked. She took him there to shut him up, but he ran straight through the line of Fire Trees. She couldn’t stop him and when she tried to follow, the trees wouldn’t let her pass.