Some books you read; this one you can almost smell. Damp bark, crushed leaves, the cold mineral breath of a cave — Hardinge builds her Forest out of soil and sap and old, patient hunger, and it is gloriously alive. It moves forward like an army, and Feather moves through it with nothing but a scaled ferret named Sleek and the stubbornness of a girl who long ago stopped being surprised by snakes, eagles, poison thorns or hurricanes. That opening line lands like a boot in wet earth: Feather was used to the Forest, trying to kill her. You are inside the story before your second breath. GOSH!
And then Emily Gravett takes that world and inks it in black, white and green on every single page — no filler spreads, no decorative wallpaper. It feels leaf-pressed, like something you found in the moss and carried home. The green glows the way a clearing glows when the clouds shift: soft, uncanny, watching. Those scattered eyes in the dark are never explained, and that's exactly the point.
If you loved *The Lie Tree*, welcome home. If you haven't met Hardinge yet, start here, at the roots. A fantastic partnership with words and illustration is a must for every woodland fantasy. Published by Two Hoots Books.
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