Forest of Shadows

  Copyright © 2019 Disney Enterprises, Inc. All rights reserved.

  Illustrations by Grace Lee © Disney Enterprises, Inc.

  Design by Winnie Ho

  Composition and layout by Susan Gerber

  Cover art by Grace Lee

  Cover design by Winnie Ho

  Editorial by Eric Geron

  Published by Disney Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney Press, 1200 Grand Central Avenue, Glendale, California 91201.

  ISBN 978-1-368-05102-6

  Visit disneybooks.com

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter-Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  THE SKY WAS AWAKE, and so was the forest.

  Anna of Arendelle hugged her cloak tight as the bare branches clacked like teeth above her and the wind tugged at her braids. She peered into a bush. As far as she knew, bushes weren’t supposed to have eyes. But then again, five-year-old princesses weren’t supposed to be alone outside the castle at night, either. And yet here she was…although Anna hadn’t started off the night alone. Her sister, Elsa, was somewhere out here in the snowy woods, too. Possibly hiding in the very bush that Anna tiptoed closer to at this moment.

  Three years older than Anna, with wide blue eyes and a shy smile, Elsa was the kind of girl who could sit for hours without swinging her legs and whose tidy white-blond plait always hung straight down her back. Grown-ups often remarked how well-behaved Anna’s big sister was…but they didn’t know Elsa the way Anna did. Underneath the polite and poised exterior was a mischievous sense of fun. All Elsa needed was an excuse, and Anna was happy to be just that: Elsa’s excuse to slip into her cloak and sneak out of the castle to build a snowman and play hide-and-find under the northern lights. Which was exactly what they were doing now. Elsa had already found Anna in a tree’s hollow, but Anna had been looking for Elsa for what seemed like forever…or at least five minutes.

  The leaves rustled again, and Anna clapped her hands over her mouth to stop a giggle from escaping. Yes, there was definitely someone watching her from the snow-covered thicket. Holding her breath, she stepped closer. She was pretty sure it was Elsa, but there was always a chance it could be a Huldrefólk, one of the rumored hidden people who dwelled in the streams, under the rocks, and in the bedtime stories told by their mother, Queen Iduna. Anna’s heart beat faster. If it was a Huldrefólk, she just had to see their tail. She’d always wondered if their tails were flowing like a horse’s, or bushy like a fox’s, or long and skinny like a mouse’s.

  But Anna had a feeling she knew who the figure hiding behind the bush was. Anna parted the leaves, and in the colorful glow of the dancing sky, she caught a glimpse of blond hair. So, not a Huldrefólk. Just a sister.

  Laughing, Anna shook the bush. “I found you! Your turn to be the Crusty Troll!”

  Elsa didn’t respond.

  “I said, I found you.” Anna peered through the foliage. “It’s my turn to hide—that’s the rule. Come on out!”

  Anna’s sister turned her head, and that’s when Anna realized her mistake. It wasn’t blond hair she had spotted in the shifting light.

  It was white fur.

  Anna’s scream stuck in her throat as a giant white wolf prowled out from the thicket with unusual grace, its long limbs uncurling like smoke. Its fierce yellow gaze fixed on her, and Anna’s eyes ran down its huge, horse-sized body…to see four fearsome paws, each the size of one of the large shields of her father, King Agnarr. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

  No, the worst was the red-stained fur around its claws and jaw.

  Red. The color of blood.

  What had happened to her sister?

  “Elsa!” Anna screamed. “Where are you?”

  The wolf leapt.

  Anna ran.

  Her heart slammed in her chest, each breath a sharp knife as she tried to run faster, and faster—but she knew she couldn’t outrun a wolf. Spotting a fallen log, she dove behind it, her knees tucked to her chest as she tried to make herself as small as possible. Though her lungs ached for air, Anna held her breath, not wanting to give herself away with even the tiniest exhale. One second passed, then another, and another. Had she lost the wolf?

  Snow fell thick and silent. Anna shivered, wishing she’d listened to Elsa when she’d told her not to wear her most beautiful green cloak but to put on her everyday thick woolly brown one instead.

  Elsa. Where was Elsa?

  As quiet as a shadow, Anna peered around the log, half expecting to come nose-to-snout with the wolf. Instead, all she saw was an army of trees casting ghastly shadows onto the snow-covered ground. And as the wind picked up, so did Anna’s ice-cold fear. If she walked through the fresh snow, the wolf would be able to see exactly which direction she’d gone. And if she didn’t walk through the snow…she might never find her sister.

  Red on white.

  Blood on fur.

  Anna couldn’t stay behind the log forever. Peeling off her cloak, she arranged it on the ground, bunching it into the shape of a five-year-old girl taking a nap. Then she moved into a crouching position. So far, so good. She took a slow, steady step backward. And then another, and another, carefully weaving her way in reverse between the trees, the same way the Huldrefólk in her mother’s bedtime stories were said to travel so they could keep their tails hidden. But Anna didn’t have a tail to hide. Instead, she was leaving a fresh trail of footprints in the snow—footprints that would always lead away from where she actually was.

  “Elsa,” she whispered, “you’ve won hide-and-find. Please come out.”

  But still there was no reply. The snow fell faster, so Anna moved faster, darting between trees, diving behind boulders, and all the while scanning the snowy woods for a sign of her sister—any sign. But there was not a footprint to be seen. It was as though her sister had been erased. As though…but the thought was too horrible for Anna to finish.

  From somewhere nearby, the wolf howled.

  Anna froze. She knew that sound. It was the same sound her father’s hunting dogs made when they’d picked up the scent of a fox. The wolf howled again, but this time it was a little farther away. Anna’s decoy had worked! She spun around and ran. The snow fell faster, the thick flakes clumping on her eyelashes and making it hard to see.

  “Elsa!” The name ripped from her throat. “Elsaaaa! El—” She choked on the word.

  There, standing in front of her, wasn’t her sister, but the wolf.

  Once more, its fierce yellow eyes were fixed right on her.

  How had it gotten ahead of her? There was no time to think—only to run.

  Anna p
umped her legs, sending snow flying up around her. She couldn’t stop. Her entire world was snow and fear and cold, and then suddenly—endless sky! Anna stumbled to a halt. She was at the edge of a cliff. An inky expanse of nothingness lay before her, but she knew whatever she found lurking behind her would be far worse.

  Hot breath.

  Sharp claws.

  Sharper teeth.

  “ELSA!” she yelled again.

  But Elsa did not appear. If her sister wasn’t here by now, something horrible must have happened. Pain seared itself across Anna’s shoulder blades. She had hesitated for too long. The wolf’s claws had connected with her back. Anna stumbled forward.

  She plunged over the edge—

  And woke up.

  A cool, comforting hand was on her forehead, and as she blinked, Anna saw her mother’s face sharpen into focus. The queen’s blue-gray eyes shone with concern, and her chestnut brown hair cascaded down one shoulder, loose from its usual upsweep of braids and bangs. A large burgundy scarf, stitched with a multitude of snowflakes and complete with purple fringe, had been thrown over her shoulders and was covering up a lavender nightgown.

  Anna shot up. “Where’s Elsa? Did the wolf get her?”

  “Anna, it’s all right.” Her mother sat and wrapped an arm around her. “All is well.”

  “There was snow,” Anna said, her heart still pounding. “And trees! I was running, and then…I slipped!” She struggled to sit up against her pillows. “Elsa was there, and then she wasn’t. I was so worried!”

  Her father strode forward with a tray bearing mugs of hot chocolate. “You had a bad dream,” he said. His ruddy blond hair, usually brushed back neatly, was tousled, as if he’d just come in from a midnight ride. For some reason, he was wearing his navy-blue uniform resplendent with badges and golden epaulets instead of a nightshirt. Bending, he placed the tray on the bedside table. “Elsa is in her room, asleep, as we all should be at this hour.”

  But that didn’t seem quite right. The last thing Anna remembered was being awake in this same bed, watching the dancing sky through her window, wanting to wake Elsa up to…do something. But what? Anna squinted her eyes, trying to remember through the pounding in her head. Odd. That’s all she could remember. The only thing after that was the outline of her nightmare: a mountain, a wolf, and bitter cold.

  Her father settled next to her mother and handed a warm mug to Anna. “Drink up,” he said. The steam uncurled from the mug, moving with the same effortless grace as the wolf.

  Anna shivered, still a bit shaken, but she had never said no to hot chocolate. She took a sip, and as the liquid slipped down to her belly, it warmed her stomach.

  Her mother patted her knee. “You know, when I have a bad dream, I always imagine crumpling up the nightmare and tossing it out the window so that Frigg has something else to fish for besides the moon and the sun. You remember the old story I used to tell you about Frigg the Fisherman, right?”

  Anna did, but she shook her head. She wanted her mother to keep talking. She leaned back as her mother began the tale of the boastful fisherman who kept casting his nets for bigger prizes and accidentally found himself stuck in a nighttime ocean of stars. Anna soaked in the comforting presence of her mother, who always smelled like calming lavender.

  The memory of the nightmare faded, replaced by what was real: her cozy bedroom decorated with pink wallpaper, thick ornate rugs, an oval painting of Arendelle Castle that she loved to admire, a tapestry of queens, and flickering candles in the sconces on the walls. Though no flames burned in the fireplace, a few embers still glowed like dropped jewels. And her parents there beside her were the coziest details of all. Anna’s eyes grew heavy.

  “Feeling better?” her father whispered when her mother finished her tale.

  Anna nodded, and he smiled.

  “Everything is always better with hot chocolate,” he said.

  “We should wake Elsa up.” Anna’s eyes fluttered as she held up her empty mug. “She’d like this.”

  She almost missed her mother and father exchange a fleeting glance at her words. There was a shift in the room, as if a cloud had drifted past the window.

  “Elsa needs her sleep,” her mother said. “And you should try to get some rest, too. Agnarr, can you please hand me that extra pillow?”

  Anna’s father stood and walked over to the white-painted chair that had been dragged from its place by the wall and now stood between Anna and the fireplace. Another pillow and a crumpled pile of blankets lay on the floor around it, as if it were a makeshift bed.

  Anna looked from the floor to her parents. They only stayed in her room if she was really ill….“Were you sleeping in here?” Anna asked. “Am I sick?”

  “You’re just fine,” her father said with a soft smile. Picking up the pillow, he placed it under Anna’s head while her mother tucked the blankets tight. Anna wiggled her toes to loosen the covers just a bit as her parents extinguished the lights and headed for the door.

  “Sweet dreams, Anna,” her mother whispered from the doorway, the light from the hallway outlining her and Anna’s father.

  “Sweet dreams…” Anna murmured back, sinking deeper into her pillow.

  The patch of light grew smaller and smaller, until, at last, it vanished as the door clicked shut. Anna listened to the sound of her parents’ footsteps recede before she turned her cheek to stare out her window.

  The sky was asleep now, the ribbons of color from the northern lights tucked beneath a patchwork quilt of clouds. But the moon stayed bright. It glared down at her like one of the wolf’s yellow eyes. Watching. And waiting. But for what?

  Cold again, Anna pulled the covers over her head, but sleep never came.

  ANNA FLEW DOWN the carpeted castle stairs of the second great hall, taking them two at a time.

  She nearly tripped on the landing, but she didn’t bother to slow down. The clock tower had already tolled ten in the morning, and she’d promised Elsa she wouldn’t be late. For a second, she thought about sliding down the banister. It really was the fastest way to get around, but at twenty-one she was too old for such things…right? Right. But…

  Anna’s feet slowed. The white wood of the banister gleamed with a recent polish and the promise of speed. And her new riding boots with heels—a gift from a dignitary from Zaria—hadn’t been broken in yet and weren’t exactly the best for running. She glanced over her shoulder. No one was around. Decision made, she hauled the skirt of her dress into her arms, slung a leg over the banister, and slid the rest of the way down, landing with ease as she reached the first-floor landing. She flew through the castle doors and raced outside, toward the stables.

  “Elsa! I’m here!” Anna whisper-called as she moved through the barn doors and entered the quiet world of sweet hay and softly munching horses. She smoothed down the back of her black dress and checked to make sure that her long chestnut brown hair was still pinned in place by a double braid. “I’m not late! Well,” she amended, “not that late. But I was having the most fascinating dream where…” She trailed off, and looked around.

  Her only audience was the alert ears of the castle horses and the litter of barn kittens that came stumbling toward the stables’ entrance whenever someone entered. But there was no sign of Elsa. Anna brushed her bangs off her forehead, confused. Somehow, even though she’d overslept, she had managed to beat Elsa. Which was odd. Very, very odd. Elsa was always on time; it was one of the many reasons she was such a great queen, beloved by all of Arendelle.

  Picking up a purring gray kitten that had begun to bat at her bootlaces, Anna took a step toward the livery. Maybe Elsa had gotten here so early that she’d decided to inspect the recent delivery of apples. Careful to keep her voice low so as not to startle the horses, Anna called out again. “Elsa?”

  “You’re looking in the wrong place,” a friendly voice called from the far end of the stables, and a second later, Kristoff Bjorgman’s head popped over a stall door, a pitchfork in his hand and a
bit of straw in his hair.

  Anna grinned. She always did whenever she was around Kristoff—she couldn’t help it. When Kristoff had first started to visit the castle frequently three years before, Gerda, one of the people who had known the girls since they were young, and who also helped them schedule their time, had remarked to the sisters that he resembled the mountains from which he harvested ice: broad and solid. Elsa had whispered back that he seemed “nice.” When Anna had pushed her for a little bit more, Elsa had added “blond.” All of which was true, but to Anna, Kristoff wasn’t just a mountain man or “nice” or “blond,” he was her best friend—and definitely something more, even if he did sometimes smell like a reindeer. Which was completely understandable, given his other best friend, Sven, was a reindeer.

  Sven’s head popped over the stall door to look at Anna, and he twitched his ears in a friendly hello. Though Anna had invited both Sven and Kristoff multiple times to take up residence in one of the many spare rooms of the castle, they both preferred to stay in the stables. Anna suspected they enjoyed the less confined living space of the barn after spending the summer months in the mountains harvesting ice for the kingdom.

  “She’s not here?” Anna asked, bending to set the kitten down gently. It scampered away to join the others.

  Kristoff moved his hand under Sven’s lower lip and began to wiggle it as he said in Sven’s voice, “Someone’s not listening.”

  Anna smiled at Kristoff’s “Sven Talk”—he was always dialoguing for his reindeer friend. It was silly, but she loved it, and so she took “Sven’s” advice and listened to her surroundings. At first, all she could make out was the occasional swish of a horse’s tail flicking flies away and the mewling of the kittens tumbling around one of the water troughs, but eventually, beneath the usual sounds, she heard an odd buzz that sounded like…

  “Oh!” Anna’s eyes widened and she hurried to the far end of the stables, where there was a little window. Peering through it, she saw just what she had suspected: a small crowd of villagers gathered in the courtyard. And though Anna couldn’t see exactly what they were surrounding, she knew exactly who it would be: Elsa.