The peace of a winter walk

I saw my breath puffing out like a surge of tiny clouds indicating it was time to brave a trek outside to gather some wood out of the shed. My wool sweater and heavy blanket had kept me unaware of the dip in temperature. In contrast, I lost myself in the book propped up in my lap, the giant tome that told many fables about the Fae enthralled my imagination. I had to set it now aside and go to the front door to take on the long process of putting on snow pants, coat, mittens, hat, and heavy boots. I proceeded to the outdoors, struggling through the short walkway to retrieve from my large pile of logs behind the house; it took several trips until I had a well-placed stock in the front room. I was determined to be able to read for several days at my pleasure with the supply and many cups of tea. I walked out to breathe in the snap of cold and look out to the white smothered world; the scenery was open and free even though trapped under the blanket of snow. I faced walking in the forest nearby to stretch out my legs and reinvigorate my lungs. I relaxed, knowing that I had enough supplies until my next trip into town, feeling smug that I could avoid other humans for the next few days, at least. My mind wandered to the literature that described the Fae, human-like in feature yet far removed from any kinship of the plain greed in the human world. They played tricks on humans often, and I chuckled to myself how self-centred our race was. I pondered next to the chapter that gave examples of how the Fae would try to trick humans into trespassing to their world. However, it had not been clear on the reasoning; it tried to explain that this was why some missing person cases resulted in no evidence of tracks or motive. Suddenly an owl hooted loudly above me, jolting me from my inner thoughts, I looked to the trees not finding any sign then I heard the sound of its call to the side of me, and I went closer. I followed the sound somehow compelled to have my eyes see the producer as I looked to every branch; at times, it sounded so close and then far away. I ran a bit, my breath belying how lazy my lungs had been. Again, the hoot rang out just a few steps away. Yet, I stayed still settling my breathing to slow able to find at that moment as I regained my composure that I heard complete silence, not even the wind. A laugh escaped in a puff of defeat, believing that the owl would not be gawked at from me this day. I turned around to head back to my usual pathway, knowing that in my excited rush, I had not paid much attention to how far off I was. Then I froze, not from the severe cold but from the discovery that I had not left one trace of a footprint for me to follow back. I rubbed my eyes while turning a circle to find my footsteps. Yet, there was not a one; I made a comical display of myself as in a manic procession of movement for any indication of my disturbance to the winter snow. I saw no indent of the surface in the snow, no evidence of my prints was left, and the sound of my steps produced no satisfying crush under my soles. Deep inside, I panicked and wished to start sobbing, believing in some way I had died and was now a ghostly figure to roam these woods that I had sheltered myself away from the world. It was an ironic justice to go out of my way to avoid human contact and now blissfully rewarded with eternal loneliness in a forest of my solitude. Before despair gripped me, I realized that I never considered that it was daytime, nor that I never heard the sound of movement from the branches of the trees above me. The thought of the Fae struck my brain again - ‘The Fae love to trick humans into getting lost.’. The book’s passage reminded me, for now, I must forget about my footprints ceasing to exist and strain myself to listen for any sound around me. First, it was my breath that was the most obvious and once settled into a calm. I stayed still until the faint sound of a hoot came from a far distance. I had to resist my initial urge to look and kept my eyes closed with my head down to wait and locate which direction it had come. Mere minutes seemed to drag by like hours until I heard the sound from the left side ahead, I opened my eyes then slowly backed up to go the opposite way from the call. I ignored that I still left no trace of a print from my heavy boots, which soundlessly trekked backwards. The sound of the owl echoed off into the distance urgently now as if it were a siren beckoning me; the feeling of being drawn to it faded. In my next step back, relief washed over me as I heard the crunch of my boot as I took a few more steps back, also noting the footprints that began to appear. I looked into the disorienting forest that seemed to hold the feeling of a great void within. I wondered if I had missed something important yet still clung to an overwhelming sense of freedom from an unknown captor. It was then that a tiny voice produced a bell-like giggle, “Cleaver human.” A light sparkle and what looked like a flutter of wings caught my eyes for half a second and then the effects wore off. Now, the forest seemed to spring to life with birds and scattering animals that one would view in the perfect forest setting, and the fog of mystery lifted. I turned to find my path again, getting back to my house just at sunset; I disrobed from my outer shell, trying to not dwell on how many hours had passed in what had seemed one. I warmed some soup, let the kettle whistle, then poured and let steep the tea and crawled back under my blanket. I flipped through the Fae book, causing a shiver up my spine despite my warmth and placed it to the side; I picked up a romance I had in the queue, allowing it to skip ahead of its turn. I reflected that I had had enough of my research on the Fae. Tomorrow I would drive into the city surprised to be excited to hear the sound of busy streets with busy humans.