3. Amelie #2
I took one last fleeting look at my village, a soft glow shone in the window of the small, broken home I grew up in.
Looking up to God’s sky, I prayed they would be alright.
Begged Him to have mercy on their souls should the Palace come for them.
I needed them to be okay so this didn’t feel so cruel.
My heart was cracking at the thought of leaving them here.
Arthur wouldn’t let it happen , I soothed myself.
God and His angel’s started a slow crescendo on their drums as thunder drew closer to Holleberg. Lightening struck, illuminating for a fleeting moment what I would leave behind. Save for the three little boys, a mother, and a headstone—it wasn’t much.
So I turned my back on the only place I’d ever known and crossed the line I wasn’t sure I’d ever come back from.
I might as well have been a bird in the open summer air, not a cloud in sight. Just me and the open sky, soaring.
The ravine was easy to clear, just as Arthur said it would be.
The moon was strung high in the sky now and my labored breath was taunting me as I came out the other side.
In front of me, as far as the eye could see, which wasn’t very far, was nothing but thick, fluffy trees.
Doing as I was told, I followed the river, feeling clumsy as I hobbled over the brush that swept the Forest floor.
The river was calm, a stark contrast to my turbulence that flowed alongside it. If I had more time with my uncle, I would’ve at least asked how far to the fork. One, because I couldn’t see shit and two, because I was already feeling like I couldn’t keep this pace up for very long.
At least another twenty minutes passed before I heard it. The babbling sound of water moving over rocks, it had to be the fork. The sound grew louder and louder until it was right there beside me. Arthur wasn’t kidding, this was going to be my first big hurdle.
He said it would be deeper here, the pressure of the flow changing the anatomy of the earth by the second.
Assessing my safest path, I decided there wasn’t one.
I’m not sure how far I was from Holleberg but I knew there was no turning back.
I had a better chance of finding sanctuary if I did as I was told, but I was never very good at doing what I was told .
Taking a hesitant step into the water, I felt the river.
I took note of its strength and how deep it was.
I had at least twenty feet to cross but only a foot off the embankment and the water was up to my knees.
Taking as big a stride as I could, I slammed my foot down and went waist deep into the water.
Calming my breathing, I continued until I reached the middle where the water soaked up to my chest.
The river was pulling and pushing like we’re in line and they wanted to be first. My feet were unsteady on the rocks, slipping over the algae that’s grown on them. My steps were no longer big and efficient. Shuffling along the river’s bottom was the only way I kept upright.
I waited for my teeth to begin chattering, it was cold at night in Holleberg. The seasons had begun to change already. Even the leaves agreed it wasn’t worth surviving through the winter. But here in the Forest, it was warm. The perfect temperature that only graced us at the beginning of summer.
My right foot slipped on an algae covered rock, causing me to stumble.
The back of my head hit the water, but something caught me.
Someone . I whipped around before I’d fully steadied myself, but I saw no one.
Surely, I felt hands around my shoulders.
I felt large, rough hands steady me, but it was gone.
I was alone.
Cool water dripped down my neck. My hair felt heavy on my back, sending a tingle up my spine. The river begging me to flow with it.
“Give me a break!” I screamed into the void, praying to God that the tales of the Forest silencing its victim’s cries for help weren’t true.
My eyes pricked with heat. Anger. As the sound of my voice’s echo faded through the trees.
My heavy, wet hair was no longer weighing me down and the water flowing around me seemed to move in slow motion.
My brows furrowed as I watched the river that had just been racing for the finish line slow to a crawl. Using it to my advantage, I swam the rest of the way before walking out on the other side triumphant.
Knowing that the swim would cost me the rest of my clothes, I went to wring out my shirt but nothing dripped from it.
I tried my skirt, same thing. My clothes were completely dry.
I squeezed my braid, also dry. My body was warm and dry, as if I hadn’t just been completely drenched.
I looked behind me, trying to find the…magic.
The essence that just helped me. But all I could see was a glow on the gentle breeze around me.
It was then that I realized Arthur didn’t tell me where to go once I crossed.
Maybe he thought I wouldn’t make it this far.
One deep breath later and I decided to continue straight.
But with only one step, I was knocked to my left by a powerful gust. Little glowing flecks accompanied the wind as it floated in the direction it clearly wanted me to go.
Not wasting my time questioning the enchanted Forest, I started in another dead sprint.
Dense, thick Forest covered every square inch of the atmosphere around me but nothing was getting in my way.
I mean, literally nothing. Through low hanging branches and ancient tree roots that sprawled the Forest floor cutting obstacles into what I assumed was a path, I evaporated through each one with ease.
As if I wasn’t solid for a moment and could just…
move through solid things. My body felt light in the warm night air, my feet like blades on the ice.
I never once had a notion to enter this enchanted Forest. Tales from the elders reminded us of the witches, gremlins, and monsters that lurked at the edge of the woods. To always stay as far back as you could from the tree line to avoid being snatched.
It was easy enough to believe with all the encounters people had since settling in Holleberg.
Kids had played on the low branches that wept down from the trunks and were sucked in, never to be seen again.
Parents had seen it happen and rushed to warn the village.
Or the couple who went to the woods for privacy and came back mangled to bits, living only long enough to tell the village that the trees were alive.
The one that stuck with me the most was the painter who sat in the same spot for months, painting the same section of the Forest day after day.
Each painting showed a new creature. Gremlins that were small and had rows of long, sharp teeth.
Witches casting spells straight toward the artist. Animals that looked like the ones we saw in the village but instead of cute and fluffy, they were ragged and evil.
I saw those paintings and committed them to memory.
Those were the last pieces of art I had from my father.
Most of those tales were shared years before I was born but the threat still promised to act if we weren’t careful.
Slowing my pace a bit and feeling as though I’d covered a good amount of ground, I took in my surroundings.
Weeping willows cried, still as could be, save from the wind I created when I passed.
The fir trees towered over the Forest floor.
They spewed dominance, contributing to the density in a way that was bone-chilling.
The trees showed you what they wanted you to see.
They were more powerful than the darkness of night in creating an illusion.
A false sense of comfort when you’d see the gaps in the tree’s form from where they allowed needles to fall.
It made you feel like they weren’t hiding things from you, but to the right or left of that gap could be something wicked waiting for you to take the bait.
A warm brush of air hit me, like a tap on the shoulder.
A taunt. I wanted to stop to see what was lurking, but my feet wouldn’t let me.
I could feel it following me, creeping on me.
There was no sound coming from the creature I’d finally encountered, though.
It was silent, eerily quiet while its energy neared closer and closer.
When it reached my back, it slowly embraced my shoulders as if to steady me, comforting me then pushing me back to full speed. The touch was warm as it wrapped itself around my neck and up my face. Then my whole body was thrumming from the heat .
It was like a warm hug, carrying me through the woods. Making it almost effortless to continue through the thick without faltering.
It was unnatural, but safe. Unfamiliar, but home. As if it was changing my body’s chemistry from the inside of my blood and bones. I became it. It became me.
My magical friend and I traveled like that for what felt like hours.
The moon was still high in the sky and there was no answer for why I wasn’t breathless and enervated yet.
I felt the warmth pull back on me like I was in thicker air and couldn’t move as swiftly.
The surroundings were all the same as they had been but up ahead, the moonlight shone on what looked like a clearing.
A small body of water with trickling sounds falling from it.
Frogs croaked their midnight song, and crickets sang the harmony.
The thick of this Forest had been here for thousands of years, predating my village or any others. The effortless flow through my surroundings seemed to whisper…
Need not be afraid, for we know you will not bring harm to us.
You will not harm us, we will not harm you.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention, that shadow was keeping my body warm, but my blood ran cold at the threat.
Then, out of thin air, a small cottage appeared in the middle of the clearing.
Its stone structure showed its age and in the moonlight it appeared almost green as it reflected the Forest around it.
Large vines covered the small cottage, over the windows and shutters, sealing the door with a wheel shape of overgrown branches.
Smoke billowed from the chimney but there was no candlelight flickering to indicate someone being inside.
Coming to a complete stop and surveying my surroundings, I made sure I was alone and wasn’t being baited into becoming something’s midnight snack.
There was a pond on my left. The river moved slower now, like a creek, to keep it full and safe for the creatures that lived in it.
Lily pads with giant frogs floated across the top, and reeds sprouting around the perimeter swayed enough to make sounds of a lullaby.
To my right, nestled into the trees, were bushes and bushes of berries.
Bright red ones, deep purple ones, and even some larger orange ones that I’d never seen before.
I’d done enough foraging with the village school to know the difference between the poisonous red and purple ones.
Confident that these were okay to eat, I plucked a handful from the bush.
They were cool to the touch, as if they’d been chilling in an icebox.
I folded my shirt up to use as a basket and picked just enough to snack on, but not so many that it would be rude.
Beyond the bushes, I saw a path. I was sure I wasn’t on any specific trail on my way here, but there was one leading further into the Forest behind the cottage.
A fork in the road.
Stay in this cottage, or continue to wherever the trail would lead me.
As the question mulled in my mind, I caught the smell of warm pastries.
I knew the smell well. It wafted through the village when the bakery made fresh bread for the Lord and his men.
My curiosity piqued, looking into the dark cottage, the dimmest light flickered through the gaps in the vines that covered the window.
Then I saw it. The bread, the jam, even what looked like cubes of cheese.
My mouth watered, and my stomach reminded me of its everlasting emptiness.
The food was taunting me, but there was still no sign of life.
I’d never been a thief because I enjoyed it.
I’d learned how to take small rations of food in the village out of pure survival for my brothers and I.
I wanted the food so badly, but the thought of intruding on whoever lived in this cottage was daunting. I couldn’t imagine they had many visitors, so what would they do if they had a disheveled, sweaty and no doubt rancid-smelling girl breaking and entering in the middle of the night?
I could bypass the temptation for food, take my berries, and continue on the trail. I was far enough from the village and so deep in the Forest that humans wouldn’t dare enter. For now, I might have been safe.
I could continue on the path until morning.
At dawn, maybe I would stumble on a castle.
It would house selfless rulers, and the King would have a handsome, available son.
He’d see me emerge from the brush and fall in love with me at first sight.
He would approach me with an arrangement of my favorite colors of water lilies, tell me that the kitchen was already making a big breakfast of foods I’d never heard of but knew it would be better than days old meat and cheese.
I would play a little hard to get, be a little mysterious, so I was extra interesting to the Prince.
By the end of breakfast, he would be so enthralled by me that he couldn’t stand the idea of losing me.
The King would absolve him of the arranged marriage he was set to enter into so he could be with me, the love of his life.
His kingdom would accept me as their princess with open arms. I would spend the rest of my days teaching children how to paint, sing and dance.
The sun would never stop shining, and no tyrannical ruler would come in and take the kingdom. They wouldn’t get the chance. They would be slain at the gates by good, kind guards and we would be safe and happy forever.
That was one outcome of thousands that could come from following the path.
The air felt darker that way, though. It didn’t feel bright and hopeful.
Neither did the cottage to my left, but there was food there.
Potentially a bed, and if I was charming enough to the owner, maybe they wouldn’t kill me for trespassing.