The Forest Feast

The wolves howled and the ravens croaked as a woman lay dying in the midnight forest. Sorena pressed a hand to her belly as she collapsed, the blood a pleasant contrast to her cold fingers. The knife wound to her abdomen was quick and precise, the mark of a skilled assassin. She felt the frozen earth below her, a bed of soft pine needles cushioning her body in its final resting place. The pain blurred her vision, but there was one thing she was able to pull into her awareness in her last moments. Aurora, her greatest source of warmth and light, was at her side.

“Don’t leave me,” Aurora sobbed. “Please, Sorena. You have to stay with me.”

Sorena feebly lifted a hand to Aurora’s face to wipe the tears off her cheek before the icy wind chapped her skin. “Don’t forget me, Aurora,” Sorena whispered.

“No, never!” Aurora said, tugging on Sorena’s green scarf. “I love you, Sorena. I’m not going to forget you because you’re not going anywhere. You’re going to make it out of this.” She released the scarf and attempted to press her cloak into Sorena’s wound to stop the bleeding, but it made little difference.

Sorena could feel her blood begin to pool around her. “I don’t think I am.” She found Aurora’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Promise me, Aurora. Promise me that you won’t forget me.”

“I won’t,” Aurora whispered, her voice cracking. “We’re going to get you to a healer,” she said, tears flowing down her cheeks. “They’ll fix you right up.”

“You have to get out of here,” Sorena said as a wolf howled, sounding much closer than it had been before. “Get to the nearest village. These woods aren’t safe alone.”

“I won’t leave you,” Aurora said. “I can’t.”

Sorena knew she was going to depart well before Aurora would abandon her body. Her golden thread of fate was poised to be cut at any moment. “Remember me,” Sorena whispered with her last remaining strength. “I love you, Aurora.”

And then, she was gone.

***

A pair of amber eyes watched a grief-stricken young woman pull a green scarf off a corpse lying on the ground and wrap it around her own neck. The scent of fresh blood, a tantalizing treat in the middle of winter, had drawn the pack to the scene. The wolf thought briefly about killing the second human as she shouldered a traveler’s pack too heavy for her, her bow and quiver clutched in her shaking hand. But the wolf was tired, exhausted from hunting all day with no success. It would be too much trouble to kill her, and though she was over encumbered, the wolf had seen how the human used her weapon to wound the assassin. The rest of the wolf pack had already found him stumbling off into the dark with a gouged leg. Two bodies was a feast. The wolf decided to let the loud, crying one go.

When the clearing had returned to silence, the wolf stalked towards the body in the pine needles. The metallic, rich scent of blood made it salivate. It imagined the thick muscles and pockets of fat that lined the corpse’s bones. Humans seemed to eat far better than deer and rabbits in winter. The wolf smelled that the human had recently consumed a meal. It began to tear through the clothes dressing the body, ripping away the thick cloak that kept the human warm in the frost. The wolf thought it strange that the hairless humans wore sheep's wool. What it would give to find a pasture of unguarded sheep this time of year. But for tonight, it was grateful for its feast of human flesh.

The meat was delicious, still warm and utterly delightful. The human’s organs were particularly good, rich with nutrients the wolf needed to sustain itself until the spring. It tore the body apart, ripping limbs from the corpse and gnawing on the bones. It heard the rest of the pack approach after they finished off the wounded assassin, curious about a second course. The wolf happily shared the bounty with them, all of their muzzles shining ruby red in the moonlight. When it had finally eaten its fill, the wolf took a large piece of the human’s leg in its mouth and set off through the forest.

Following the winding trail through the brush back to its den, the wolf swelled with pride for the bounty it was bringing home. It thought about the four little mouths lingering in their winter hideaway, waiting for their mother to bring them their next meal. The wolf had so feared her children going hungry and was relieved to provide them with such a thick slab of meat and bone. She laid their dinner in front of them, happy to see her young ones enjoying their feast. She plopped down beside them, crossing her front paws over one another in contentment.

The stroke of luck she’d had tonight, she thought to herself, was something she would remember. Her cubs, having gone a full week without food, would certainly remember too.

***

A murder of ravens appeared in the pine trees shortly after the human’s body hit the ground, summoned by a notification from the wolves that a forest feast was to be held under the moonlight. The birds waited patiently for the wolves to have their fill, the two clans in agreement to share the meal in an orderly fashion. They croaked and cawed in celebration, finding this occasion particularly auspicious. When the wolves finally melted back into the forest, the ravens descended, continuing to rip apart the corpse and scatter the bones, bits of bloodied cloth, and human entrails around the clearing.

They were the last creatures to see the body before it would be swallowed back into the earth. As her final companions, they ushered the dead woman onto her next life, preparing the lingering remnants of her flesh for the moss and mushrooms eager for their own feast. There was nothing richer than blood to make the forest floor erupt in strength and vitality the following spring. The ravens were proud of their role in the cycle, leaving nothing but stark white bones glittering like streaks of stardust on the dark forest floor.

But then something caught the eye of one of the ravens. A shiny, man-made object lying in the dirt where the woman’s hand had once been. It was a silver ring embedded with a tiny emerald. It had been many moons since the bird had seen such a beautiful prize and it quickly picked up the treasure and flew into a tree before the others could see the trinket. The raven set the ring on the branch to examine it, placing its little taloned foot over the jewelry to prevent it from falling. The bird pecked at the ring, noticing that it was well made and of a much higher quality than the other lost items it had found. Deciding to keep it, the raven picked up its prize and brought the ring to the spot where it stored all of its other goodies. It didn’t want the other ravens to become jealous and try to steal the ring. Best to keep this one a secret, it thought. The ring was too special, too cherished to risk losing.

The raven located its hidey-hole full of shiny baubles and found treasures and stashed the emerald ring. The bird was quite full from its feast in the forest and settled down in its nest for some sleep. What a night, it thought to itself. Whoever that dead human had been, the raven hoped she had a peaceful journey from this life into the next.

The bird felt gratitude for the woman, not only for the flesh that had nourished it, but also the prized piece of jewelry now in its collection. The raven would remember her for these gifts.

***

“I won’t forget you,” Aurora whispered to herself, wrapping Sorena’s green scarf tighter around her neck. The scarf had still been warm when she pulled it off Sorena’s body and she decided that if she never took it off and continued to keep it warm, it would be like Sorena was still there. That was until she found a way to bring her wife back from the dead.

The next morning she set out from the village after buying a roan mare, embarking on a quest to find someone who could resurrect Sorena. She was deeply saddened that she hadn’t retrieved Sorena’s wedding band before surrendering her body to the wildlife. Perhaps, she thought, someone would find the ring and it would somehow make its way back to her. And even if it didn’t, she hoped the new owner would cherish it as much as Sorena had. She could not bring herself to go back to the scene of Sorena’s death to look for it.

She wondered what had happened to Sorena’s body after she left it in the forest. Surely the wolves had descended and ripped her wife to shreds, followed by the ravens. It didn’t matter now. She was determined to keep Sorena’s memory alive until she could be brought back from the dead. Even if no one else remembered Sorena, she would. Even if the wolves didn’t care who they ate, nor the ravens who they scavenged, she cared. Though the forest had feasted on Sorena’s remains, she was not gone.

And she was not forgotten.