The Trees Know

That day, the forest was cold. The air, piercing and frigid, every breath visible like a puff of smoke. The villagers had long since covered their crops to prevent the frost from reaching them. Now, they were inside their warm houses, huddled around the fire. Children eagerly awaited the first snow of the season. Adults prayed the winter would pass quickly. No one seemed to notice that one of their own was missing.

The woods were far more observant. Owls hopped about on branches, scouring the ground for their next meal. Wolves howled in the distance. The day tasted of petrichor and dead leaves, all consuming and merciless. The trees towered over a tiny trail where a little girl found herself. She wasn’t supposed to be there, even the forest seemed to know that. The tree branches had not scraped her a single time, no leaves fell into her hair. They hadn’t had a real guest in a long time. People do not enter these woods without a defined purpose, most knew what they were risking and what it would cost. Yet the little girl didn’t mind the scrutinizing gazes of the trees. Her mind was set as she followed the young boy in front of her, her hand firmly grasped in his. The touch wasn’t gentle but it was not alarming either, more childishly insensitive than malicious. He had been a stranger mere minutes before, yet seemed so familiar now. She had been alone on a creaky swing, susceptible to his easy charm, he promised her fun. A bright smile and scruffy blond hair. He wasn’t much older than her, a few months at most, though his height could make others assume otherwise. She allowed him to hold her hand as they weaved between the trees, leading her into an unknown place.

The trees watched as she struggled to match his pace, her pale features scrunched up with determination as though to prove a point. She wouldn’t allow him to think her weak so she mustered up all her youthful bravado. Being a girl meant you had to prove yourself many times over before it was ingrained in their heads that you were not cowardly. The forest wondered if they knew where they were headed. No one ever did when it came to this place, yet neither child seemed to care. His grip was so confident, he certainly knew where he was leading her. Their footsteps echoed in the false silence, the crunching of leaves scaring away rabbits and any other creatures unfortunate enough to find themselves in their path. He had promised her excitement and she had to believe he would deliver.

Her biggest mistake was not bringing any warm clothes, the thin dress covering her did little to keep the bitter air out. Shivers found their way through her spine. The boy did not seem to notice or he simply did not care

“How much longer?” She asked, voice far too uncertain and high-pitched for her liking. It was slightly trembling, though she hoped the whooshing of the wind had covered it up.

He finally turned back to look at her, sparkling dark eyes. A flowering bud tangled with his hair as it fell from above. “We’re almost there, I promise.” He said, his words smooth and practiced as he shook the plant away.

The cold did not seem to bother him and she pretended it did not bother her either. The trees carried on with their scrutiny, though their canopies became thicker, blocking out more sunlight than before. The girl had never been this far from the village. Her mother would kill her if she found out, mercilessly and with the wooden spoon from the kitchen. The one she always threatened her with when she misbehaved.

The boy continued moving, just as unbothered by the encroaching darkness as he was by the cold. She did not dare ask him where they were again. Leaves fell unprompted, a warning from the woods, but she did not pick up on it. Children rarely do. A panic rose within her chest the further into the thickening wood they ventured into. She was never afraid of darkness, quite the contrary, yet she was still unsettled by the odd sounds and sharp shadows surrounding them. She tried to pull her hand free from his grip for the first time since he took hold of her. His clasp only tightened.

“We’re almost there, be patient.” He said, sharper than before. It wasn’t a snap, he didn’t seem angry, only frustrated. She tried to pull away again, ignoring his words. His grip didn’t loosen.

“I can walk by myself.” She said, forcing the vigor into her words, though she felt little of it. A twig snapped beneath her feet.

He turned his gaze back at her again, perilous dark eyes. “No you can’t. You’ll trip over a root or something. Let me help you.” But he didn’t seem helpful. She tugged again, finally freeing herself.

“Where are we? I’ve never been here.” She said, rubbing her aching wrist.

“I said I’ll take you somewhere interesting. I promised it wasn’t far, just trust me. I wouldn’t lie. We’re almost there.” He said, a smile appearing back onto his face. It did not seem to reach his eyes. He extended his arm, offering to take her hand once more. His restless feet steady, gaze pinned on hers. When she didn’t take it, he reached forward and seized her arm himself. She cried out, but only the trees could hear her calls, and they could do nothing but watch as he pulled her deeper into the darkness.

She yelled at him, screamed to be let free, but he did not relent. The smooth voice that had allured her on the playground now far too low and menacing. Not what a young child should sound like. The grip that she had mistaken for youthful thoughtlessness now seemed threatening. She kicked at his legs but he did not stumble, simply turned his face away from her and kept on walking, dragging her along.

After a few minutes, she fell silent, realizing her efforts were meaningless. He did not care. His heart did not break at her cries and he did not flinch at her kicks. But he did stop his endless footsteps. A small clearing surrounded by dark, watchful, trees. Ubiquitous and observant. She noticed them now, the leaves that fell, the twigs snapping beneath her feet. Birds chirping in the trees, a mournful song. A warning noticed too late. The boy turned to look at her again, one final time. His gaze meeting hers. Obsidian eyes to obsidian eyes.

He let her go, freeing her at last. She considered running, but the darkness did not seem any more welcoming than the child in front of her. He did not speak, simply watched her, as she nursed her injured hand. A mature sort of look, not suitable for someone his age.

“Can we go home now? You promised it would be fun. This isn’t fun.” She said, voice trembling. His gaze did not waver, only seemed to harden.

“It is fun.” He said simply, as though nothing had happened on the way there. “I want to show you something.” He reached into his back coat pocket, pulling out a wooden small box, intricately engraved and expensive looking. Not something the girl’s family would have ever been able to afford. Even if her mother took ten shifts at the factory.

The boy opened the ornate box, taking out a blade, sharp and steady. She felt a shiver slither down her back. A squirrel scrambled away somewhere to her right. Nothing can be done now. She had placed her trust in him and he played her. She remembered hearing of stories of children lured into the woods, never seen again. Though she had never believed the rumors, yet alone thought she’d become one.

The trees were no longer watching, they were waiting. As he brought the blade closer to her, ever so slowly. She pulled away, just as slowly, carefully. As if he was a bomb she was afraid could detonate at any moment. The leaves continued falling, a failed, desperate attempt at distraction. The boy did not stop, just inched closer, beautiful dagger in hand. She closed her eyes, knowing her tears would mean nothing, her cries would not be heard. She would never become anything but a village legend, another ghost to haunt her family. No one will know what had become of her and her impulsive stupidity. She braised herself for the pain to come.

A crash. A bird’s startled screech. The leaves had stopped falling, the twigs had stopped snapping. Yet the blade fell from the boy's hand, and he fell with it. A tree trunk on his scrawny frame, pinning him to the forest floor. She stared for a moment, feeling the forest’s presence, knowing this is why people didn’t venture far between these trees. They weren’t just biotic, they were truly sentient. But she forced her eyes away and her legs to sprint. Whichever way seemed closest. Anything would do, as long as it was far from here. The boy was a stranger, she shouldn’t have forgotten that.