Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Rather than the rocky ground that I would expect to be inside a cave, I am met with the soft sponge of moss and open my eyes to see I am facing another meadow, except this one is dark and full of a thick, tangible mist. I look behind me to see a cave at my back and realize I am on the other side, the fae realm.
Something ancient that was slumbering deep in my bones cracks open and my mother’s necklace hums faintly. I feel all my senses perk up at the crackle of energy that runs through the air, I inhale deeply. Immediately the Mist shoves its way up my nose, making my eyes tear.
I remember Durga’s warning so I start sprinting forward.
The ground starts to incline as I run up a hill much like the one the cave was hidden in and then tumble back down the other side into a valley.
I feel as though I am wading through water, but I keep running.
If I stop, something terrible is bound to happen.
My head starts to throb as the Mist tangles into my memories and pieces of my past start to flash before my eyes.
Marissa whispers to her friends at my old high school, pretending to not know me as we pass in the halls – judgemental giggles pierce my ears as if they are right behind me.
A young boy is clasping his ears, yelling at me to get out of his head in the middle of a birthday party – Delia is crouching down and telling me to stop – horror is on all the surrounding faces.
The Mist is working its way to my earliest memories. I swipe away the tears that are pooling on my eyelids and keep running.
Delia and Hunt are having a heated argument over whether or not to adopt me .
Both of their heads snap to where I am eavesdropping at the top of the staircase – my finger nails leave indents in the wood of the railing from my white knuckled grasp – Delia fervently advocates for me to stay while she rocks baby Marissa in her arms – Hunt crosses his arms, looking sceptical.
The pain of rejection stings freshly. Did he ever want me? The Mist seems to relish my despair and pushes even further into my past.
I am on the back of a big, white horse and my tiny hands clasp the horse’s mane as we tumble through the forest. My own shrill scream rings in my ears.
A cold, dark feeling as my mother slips away from me…
I crest the top of a hill and stumble into a deep, dark forest. The Mist immediately clears, shying away from the oppressive presence that lurks here.
I lean over with my hands on my knees to take a few deep breaths, shaking off the memories that usually only resurface during fitful nights.
The faces of all those that have judged or feared me continue to flash behind my eyes, although less vividly as the seconds tick by.
The dark void in my chest that felt as if it was healing over when I put on my mother’s necklace has been ripped open anew. Come on Nuria, get it together…
I take a moment, letting the ache in my chest ease before I scan my surroundings. I’m not sure which is a more fearful sight, the Mist behind me or the clearly haunted forest that lies ahead.
The trees look as though they are caught in battle with each other; striving for the blocked out sun above the canopy.
The white moss hanging from the branches gives off the illusion of a forest full of ghosts.
This must be the Tanglewood Forest. I take a breath and shake off all that has just flashed before my eyes.
“Nasty stuff, that mist,” I say to myself as I sheathe my sword at my hip and set off through the forest.
“Look for the gnomes on the other side of the Tanglewoods she said… pfft, but what about navigating this bloody forest of death?” I mutter as I dodge the wispy moss and duck under branches – that I swear are moving to try and hit me in the head purposely.
There is absolutely no wind in this forest and the moist air feels suffocating. There isn’t any bird song either which naturally leaves my nerves on high alert, thinking there may be something sinister lurking around each corner.
Perhaps I am the thing they are shying away from, I hope as I sly foot my way forward.
I have no way to navigate in here so I try my best to keep a straight path.
However, some of the trees are three times my arm span in width and I am constantly met with impassable thickets of spiky brush that force me to veer off course.
It feels like a few hours have now passed in this eerie place and I fear I am utterly lost. I have no scope for the size of these woods and worry they may stretch on forever.
“I should have asked for better directions. This place is a maze.” I am mumbling to myself when I hear a sharp laugh behind me.
I whirl around and I unsheathe my sword to find a funny looking little creature standing before me.
It is only waist high and it looks as if its skin is made of bark.
It has long spindly arms, twigs for fingers and small beady, black eyes.
“Who are you?!” I yelp, as I point the sword towards the creature.
“I am Barnaby Sprout of the Tanglewoods! Who are you?” it demands back, placing its twig hands on its hips.
“I’m Nuria Piedmont… of Easthelm,” I cautiously say back, trying to mimic its form of introduction. “What exactly are you?”
“Well that is a very rude question. But if you must know, I am a wood sprite,” it huffs, crossing its arms and tapping its little tree-stump foot, clearly annoyed at me.
“So sorry for the question Mr. Sprout, I am new here and very lost. Could you, perhaps, guide me out of the Tanglewoods?” I ask, cringing, I am not sure what the proper etiquette is in these lands.
“Hmmmm, I suppose… for a price,” he replies, giving me a cheeky grin. Not sure what else to do, I nod to his request.
“What is the price?” I cautiously question.
“Hmmm either a nibble on your pinky toe or five hairs and one eyelash from your pretty head,” he sneers, wiggling his twiggy fingers, looking as if he is up to no good.
“Um, I think I will go with the eyelash and hairs…” I respond, thinking that his first request must mean the wood sprites snack on humans. I try to suppress a shudder.
“Deal!” he shouts out before I can think twice about what I agreed to. I decide there is surely no harm to giving my hair to this creature so I pluck them out and hand them over. He snatches them out of my hand and gobbles them up, to my surprise, then scurries past me into the woods.
“Hey! We had a deal!” I shout as he runs off.
“You never said when I had to lead you out of the woods!” I hear his distant voice shout back.
“Bastard!” I yell back, standing there in shock. Granny Mog’s warning about the fae realm being a tricky place pops into my mind as I start to walk in the direction I had been going before this strange encounter. How was I to know what kind of tricky it would be?
I walk on, scanning the woods for more cheeky little wood sprites, not wanting to repeat what had just happened, when I am suddenly whacked on the back of the head. I stumble forward, just catching my balance, and I turn around to see that there is nothing there.
“What on Earth –”
Whack! I’m hit across the back again and I look down to see the tree roots are moving and slithering their way towards my feet.
I whirl around and start to run, realizing in a panic that the trees are attacking me.
I only get a few more metres before I’m tripped up by a root wrapping around my ankle.
I fall to the forest floor with a big thud and am swept up into the air, dangling by my foot as more branches twine around my body.
“Let me go!” I scream, swinging my sword around, managing to chop down some of the roots but not quickly enough. Soon my entire torso is being covered and a branch whips my hand causing me to drop the sword. I let out one more scream before my head is enveloped in roots and I cannot move.
I am sheathed in darkness. I whimper at the thought that this may be how I die, smothered by tree roots.
No, no, no, this is not fair! I only just got here, please! I lose my ability to speak as a root is pushing at my mouth, trying to pry it open. I try as hard as I can to keep it closed knowing that if it succeeds, that would surely be the death of me.
It suddenly pauses its jabbing. A distant chopping sound reverberates through the wood.
A low creaking groan comes out of the tree then the roots are quickly recoiling and I am dropped, head first, onto the ground.
I let out a yelp and quickly scramble to my feet, scanning the floor for my sword. Where is it? Where is it?
“Looking for this, perchance?” a young woman with a mess of red curls, a pert, freckled nose and a mocking smile says in a lilting accent.
She stands in front of me, twirling my sword around by its handle.
She has knee high leather boots over her brown trousers and a dark green hooded cape draped over her white blouse.
I notice a gold clasp in the shape of a flame holding it together across her chest. Her outfit reminds me of something a prince would be wearing in one of those classic fairy tales where the distressed damsel is locked up in a tower and can do nothing but sit there looking pretty.
She stops twirling the sword and cocks an eyebrow, giving it a once over, looking impressed by the blade. She tosses it to me and I clumsily catch it before pointing the tip back at her.
“Who are you?” I ask, more wary with this encounter than I was with the last. She lets out a sharp laugh.
“I am the female who just rescued you,” she scoffs and crosses her arms. She looks like a regular human to me.
No strange coloured skin or pointy ears.
I wonder whether she is fae or human when she answers my unvoiced query by blasting a flame jet out of her pointer finger at a root that was trying to snake its way back towards my ankles. It snaps back with a little whimper.