The Grimm Conclusion by Adam Gidwitz Read Free Book Online Page A

the third raven.
    â€œWhat do you have to be scared of?” demanded the second. “It’s not like you can die.”
    The little boy cocked his head. “You can’t die?”
    â€œThere are some things we do, and some things we do not do,” replied the first raven. “Dying is of the latter group.”
    But the third raven said, “Dying isn’t the only thing to be afraid of.”
    â€œOh, really?” asked the second.
    â€œRight!” said the third. “There’s snakes.”
    The second raven rolled his black eyes.
    â€œFire.”
    He rolled them again.
    â€œSpiders! Spiders are scary.”
    â€œYou eat spiders!” retorted the second raven.
    â€œServes them right for scaring me!”
    Suddenly a branch cracked and came tumbling through the trees. It landed with a heavy thud not three feet from the little boy.
    â€œThat could have killed me,” Joringel said aloud. Strangely, the fact did not seem to bother him.
    â€œKeep moving,” announced the first raven. He flew from tree to tree, perching for a few moments to let the boy’s short legs keep up. His brothers followed suit.
    â€œFalling branches scare me, it turns out,” continued the third raven. “I didn’t know that until just now.”
    They flew on.
    â€œDrowning scares me. And sharks. Sharks scare me.”
    â€œYou’ve never been in the water!” exclaimed the second raven. “How could you be scared of something that lives where you will never, ever go?”
    â€œTalent,” replied the third raven. “And a prodigious imagination. I’m also scared of goblins and dragons and mean fairies. And dog bites. And cat bites. And bug bites.”
    The air grew colder as the party went deeper and deeper into the wood. The ground became softer and squelchier. The trees thinned under the graying, darkling sky.
    â€œI’m scared of getting hit by a carriage or a train or a bus.”
    â€œWhat’s a train?” asked the little boy, still not at all bothered by the forbidding wood.
    â€œI’m scared of flying in airplanes.”
    â€œThat’s ridiculous! Why would you ever go in an airplane? You can fly yourself!” cried the second raven.
    â€œI don’t think I would feel very comfortable in a submarine either. I get claustrophobic.” Joringel didn’t understand anything the ravens were saying.
    â€œOh, and I’m scared of birds.”
    â€œWHAT?”
    â€œThat Hitchcock movie
The Birds
really bothered me. And ever since, birds have made me uncomfortable.”
    â€œThat is the stupidest thing I have ever—”
    â€œQuiet,” the first raven commanded. “We’re here.”
    They stood in the barren, dark heart of the wood. The wind moaned angrily in the trees, and the mist enveloped them like a funeral shroud.
    â€œWhere’s here?” asked the second raven, squinting at his surroundings.
    The first raven intoned, “We are in the wood at the edge of Mörder Swamp.”
    The third raven said, “Murder Swamp? Spelled
M-U-R-D-E-R
?”
    The first raven laughed. “No! Of course not! That would be creepy. It’s spelled
M-Ö-R-D-E-R.
”
    â€œOh,” the third raven sighed, relieved.
    â€œWait,” said the second, “isn’t
Mörder
just German for ‘murder’?”
    â€œWhat? Oh. Yes. Technically,” agreed the first.
    â€œRight,” said the third. “So I’m terrified.”
    The first raven turned to Joringel. “Do you think that you could spend a night here all by yourself?”
    Joringel glanced around at the rotting branches, the thick, wet mud, the cold, drifting mist. Somewhere, a wolf howled. He shrugged. “Why not?”
    â€œYou wouldn’t be afraid?” asked the first raven.
    â€œI would be afraid,” interjected the third.
    â€œYeah,” said the second, “we’ve established