From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

A tremor coursed through me.
“I told yyou not to look.”
“I know.”
But I had.
Just like I couldn’t close myy eyyes now. The red leaves glistened in the
fading sun, looking like a million leaves had captured tinyy pools of blood.
It was a sight as horrifyying as it was disturbinglyy beautiful.
The horses slowed, and Airrick’s mount reared, shaking its head, but
he pushed forward. We advanced, myy heart thundering as the branches
stretched toward us, their slick leaves rippling softlyy, seeming to beckon
us forward.
The temperature dropped the second we passed under the first
branches, and nearlyy all the sun that remained couldn’t penetrate the
leaves. Goosebumps pimpled myy skin as I looked up. Some of the
branches were so low that I thought I could possiblyy reach up and touch
one of the leaves shaped like the ones found on a maple tree. I didn’t,
though.
No one spoke as we fell into line, two byy two, side byy side, following
the path that had been worn into the ground. Everyyone kept their eyyes
peeled. Since there was no crunching, I felt safe looking down.
“No leaves,” I said.
“What?” Hawke leaned into me, keeping his voice low.
I scanned the rapidlyy darkening floor of the forest. “There are no
leaves on the ground. It’s just grass. How is that possible?”
“This place is not natural,” Phillips answered.
“That would be an understatement,” Airrick added, looking around.
Hawke leaned back. “We will need to stop soon. The horses need
rest.”
Pressure clamped down on myy chest, and myy grip on Hawke’s arm
increased. I knew myy fingernails were beginning to dig into his arm, but I
couldn’t make myyself let go.
I exhaled raggedlyy and saw myy breath in the air.
We rode for another hour, and then there was nothing but silveryy
streaks of moonlight when Hawke signaled to the group. The horses
slowed to a trot and then eventuallyy stopped, their breathing heavyy.
“This seems like a better place than manyy to camp,” Hawke
commented.