Witch of the Whispering Wood

It was October twenty eighth, approximately around eleven o' clock at night, when I began to come to the realization my earlier conclusion was right. I let them convince me otherwise, a trait of mine I wished I could shake. While the rest of the world saw in watercolor and acrylic I saw the world in Charcoal and Ink. You may think that is depressing, but on the contrary It was the rest of the world you should pity. I saw beyond the pleasantries and masks we often hide behind. When you saw the outlines, you saw the raw structure of what makes someone, well them. My point being, I see through different eyes, and everyone who knew me tried to convince me otherwise. I spent my childhood in an place that tried to tell me otherwise. They tried to break me, but they never could.

A thick fog was rolling in the city. It blanketed the roads, sidewalks, and fences. The sharp pikes of the posts were barely visible above the fog's surface. I watched it creep through the crevices of the stone houses that surrounded my own. The blue stained glass windows of my bedroom were glazing over with a thin layer of condensation. I gently ran my pointer finger through the moisture, beginning the drawing of a twisted tree.

The trees were awakening. I saw them. Their old weathered faces twisting in the once still bark. Something in the air was changing, shifting. I don't care what the others thought, I know what I saw. I know what I felt. I was fairly new in this city. I moved here after I was released from the place I was tortured in for eighteen years. I was no longer a sick child. They cared not for sick adults. So I was set free. Free in a world that allowed you to be anything but. At least while these KIngs and their courts were in power.

I needed to focus. Shuffling through old memories would not help me now. Worrying about the authority of Royalty would do nothing for me either. Not yet. I pushed from the window, leaving my bedroom quarters and the drawing behind me. I rushed down my winding staircase into the darkness of my living room. I tied my hair back into a knot and wrapped myself in a thick wool cloak. The lantern on my side table flickered to life, casting a warm golden light across my pale face. With the hood draped over my head I looked like a wraith ready to stalk the night.

You might think me insane for leaving my home at such an hour. To adventure through a fog so thick you could not see past it. In search of the forest of twisted faces. I never backed any of my choices before with logic. Logic was the element that killed imagination. It was the aging society of diplomatic men and women that tried to instill it into our daily lives. It was the reason the general population could no longer see the truth. We have been weakened by those who wish us to be docile, obedient.

I hurried through the grey mists and followed my intuition. Street lamps flashed one by one as I walked under their towering arms. A dog woke from the sudden light and barked my way. The sound died quickly, never locking it's sight on me through the dense mask of nature. I was hidden.

It wasn't long before I was out of the city limits and on the edge of the forests borders. The trees stood as tall as small mountains. Ferns weaved between the roots of the trunks. Brush littered every pathway. The fog wove between the trees as well, as if this is where it had been born. I raised my lantern before me, closing my eyes. A suttle breeze swayed the strands of my hair that had fallen from the loose knot. Tickling the edges of my face. I was to go right. That was what the wind whispered.

So I did. I wandered the night masked greenery for endless hours. My feet barely making a sound. My cloak caressed the bark and leaves as I twirled and wove with the fog. My heart had stilled to a soothing calm. My breathing weightless. I watched the trees I passed. They were pillars of stone that refused to move around me. I know what I saw. I kept going, unaware of how far I was or how long it would take me to get back. A song kept pulling me in the direction I had chosen. I had no doubt I was on the right course.

I stopped for a brief moment, leaning against a pine. My ears twitched, tuning to a noise I could barely register. A noise beyond the song. If I had to pick a word to describe it, it would be creaking. The sound old doors made when you opened them, or houses with crumbling foundations that moaned in violent storms. Then came the vibrations beneath my feet of movement. I thought I felt it a little ways back. It was growing stronger. I was getting closer.

I quickened my pace, my feet now crunching on twigs and leaves as my walk became more urgent. Bramble twisted and tangled nearly all the paths this deep in the wood. I climbed over each obstacle. Crawled or tunneled under and through what I could not climb. Eventually I came to what was almost a clearing. I gasped at the sight of countless scorched trees. My pace softened again and I wandered this graveyard with my head bowed. I stopped before a young fern and knelt in silence. Setting my lantern beside me. The creaking was all around me now. I did not move. I only finished my silent prayer.

"Who are you?" A firm deep voice boomed through the mist behind me. I could feel it in the core of my bones, in the flow of my blood, in the beating of my heart.

"No one of importance." I replied. Keeping my head bowed another breath. More footsteps neared me. I was surrounded. I could feel their eyes watching me.

"You can hear us. That is not so common anymore."

I grabbed the edges of my hood and lowered the fabric from my head. My blood red hair was a stark contrast against the night. My sky blue eyes locking with theirs. There were at least a dozen circling the scorched clearing. They watched as I spoke with the elder.

"I never claimed to be common." My lips twitched into a shallow smile. The tree bent forward, it's leaves blocking the stars above me. I was encased in its looming shadow.

"Why have you come then?" If it had eyebrows, they were certainly furrowed. The lines of the bark twisting in curiosity.

"Why do you wander when trees are meant to sleep? What happened here?" I kept my eyes locked with its. The others stirred in my determination.

"We cannot rest when our lives are valued so little in this age. Great flames of sorcerers threaten us. We must keep moving." I studied them. A long pause of silence rising between us. They were waiting for me.

"What if I offered my assistance?" The tree straightened, looking at its peers. The creaking echoed around me again.

"How?" It asked.

"In time you will see. Do we have a deal?" I stood from the grass. My cloak billowing.

"What do you seek in return?" They were weary of my intentions. It suffocated the air here.

“An alliance of sorts. When it is needed.” I reached out my hand as an offering. More concerned glances passed between them before the elder bent it’s lowest branch to my hand. I wrapped my fingers around the bark, shaking it with gentle grace. A smile found my lips again. The trees tried to imitate me. It was menacing and beautiful.

I was now a free woman and I would weave myself in this world. They would know my name. They would know our names. I was free and never again would they chain me. Never again would they hurt these woods. If they did, they would know my vengeance. They would taste it and when they did, they would also know regret. After all, I saw in charcoal and Ink, and that meant something.

From that day on the trees were under her protection. The Oath never broken, and the world did learn their names.