Where the Path Forks

Sera strolled down the dirt path, the crunch and slide under her tennis shoes as familiar to her as the sigh of the wind through the trees or the lines in the palm of her hand. Her parents had forbidden her from walking down the road that cut through the forest after dark when she was a child. The town had curfews to discourage the public from taking the unlit back roads at night.

It was dangerous, they all said. People disappeared on the forest roads.

But Sera loved the quiet roads, the whispering trees, and the bright full moon hanging in the star-speckled sky. This was her favorite time. It felt magical; the deep, rich colors of the trees under the bright moon and the peace of the forest. It wasn’t a long walk, but it bolstered her soul.

She never told her parents that she took the forest path that cut more than a mile off her walk home from school or work. She never told them that she spent evenings strolling through the forest or sitting under the trees, letting the weight of life lift from her shoulders as she traced the grooves in the bark. Tonight was no different.

Her aging parents probably wouldn’t care now that she was an adult, but it still felt like a secret. This place felt like her own, a place she cherished, and she didn’t want to share it, even with the people she loved.

Sera stopped short, a prickle running down her spine.

For twenty years, this path had never changed. Even as the town grew and expanded, this stretch of forest remained untouched, familiar and steady.

But tonight the road divided.

The left fork she knew well. It curved toward home, toward the little house tucked at the forest’s edge, its windows glowing warm and ordinary among the neighboring houses in a semi-circle around it like old friends chattering in the night.

The right fork shouldn’t exist.

It hadn’t been there this morning. Not yesterday. Not ever. Her own footprints pressed into the soil of the path to the left, proof that the world had still made sense earlier that day. Yet now the new path stretched out before her, silent and strange.

No tire tracks marred its surface. No hoofprints, not even the soft prints of the deer and foxes that lived there. Only untouched earth, shrouded by trees whose branches tangled so thickly overhead that the moonlight didn’t break through. Beyond the first few feet, the way disappeared into shadow.

A pull tightened in her chest.

Curiosity had a way of tempting her into trouble. It always had. But this was different. This was a summons.

The strap of her bag dug into her shoulder as she hesitated, glancing once toward the road home. Then, with a steadying breath, she turned toward the right-hand path. Her shoes sank into the soft earth, leaving prints in the soil.

The air changed as she walked, growing cooler, sharper, sweeter with the scent of night-blooming flowers. She tugged her sleeves down over her wrists against the chill.

Vines twisted overhead, thick and weighted down by clusters of pink and violet flowers, fragrant and bright in the dark. Petals drifted down around her as she passed, soft against her cheeks. Sera caught a handful and tossed them skyward, watching them flutter back down. They glowed faintly in the scattered moonlight, delicate and beautiful.

The trees here towered above her, their roots reaching up through the soil, the bark thick and grooved. The forest was hushed, listening as she passed.

Somewhere ahead, the steady garble of running water added its voice to the breeze sighing through the branches. There shouldn’t be a river here. She’d played in these woods as a child, wandered them for years. She would have found it. Wouldn’t she?

Sera paused again, her feet falling on hard, smooth stone that rose from the earth as if it grew there.

A bridge stretched before her, pale in the broken moonlight, arching over the shallow river that shimmered faintly in the dark. It looked ancient, the stones fitted tightly together, their edges worn by time. Moss clung to the surface, soft and spongy beneath her fingertips, cool and smooth. The river ran silvery and bright, babbling quietly below.

On the far side, the path disappeared into shadow.

The tug in her chest tightened; the forest was waiting. Summoning her deeper, whispering in her ears, nearly words now. She strained to hear, to make sense of them, as she crossed the bridge.

On the other side, the forest came to life. It sang, and the light of the moon seemed brighter. Magnificent flowers bloomed between the trunks, and birds called overhead. The change was breathtaking.

Sera laughed quietly, her own voice adding to the song of the forest.

She turned slowly, brushing against the silky petals and reaching branches, but froze. The bridge and the path back were gone. Only the river, its silvery body flowing past her into the forest, remained. Across the water, the trees leaned out, branches nearly brushing the surface.

Petals still fell around her and floated past on the silver surface.

When she turned back, the other end of the path still stretched out through the moonlit forest, beckoning her on. The tug in her chest strong and sure.

Sera started walking again, slower this time. Golden fireflies danced and pulsed in the trees among the thick underbrush and vibrant flowers, a heartbeat. The heartbeat of this forest, strong and alive.

She knew this forest was alive, breathing, singing, and watching as she passed into its depths. She should be afraid. A tiny part of her was. But the forest sang to her and caressed her cheeks gently. It was deep and beautiful. It held dangers, but it did not threaten her. It welcomed her.

How long had she walked when the song of the forest changed? It had been a long time, she could feel it in the tension of her muscles and the dragging weight of the bag on her back.

Something moved in the trees, disturbing the golden beat of the fireflies. She could feel eyes on her now, not the watchful presence of the forest, but something intense, hungry.

She thought of turning back, but when she did, the path she had just walked was gone, swallowed up by the thick trees. So she walked on. Eyes on the trees.

She walked faster, the shifting, silent presence keeping pace. It lingered just out of sight.

Sera’s heart began to race, and the small hairs on the back of her neck rose. She turned as she walked. Again and again, searching. The eyes were always there, boring into her. She felt, in the primal part of her brain, that to run would be a mistake, despite the tension that begged her to do just that.

A long, bony hand closed around her arm suddenly.

She screamed, sending the creatures of the forest that had fallen quiet fleeing. She pulled, trying to break free, but the grip on her arm was relentless. At last, she looked up and saw the creature that held her.

A tall, slender form with flowing green hair, several shades darker than the pale green skin, looked down at her with wide dark eyes over a long hawkish nose. Branches rose from either side of its head and sprouted leaves that rustled softly. Everything about it was a bit too long, as if the creature had spawned from the forest itself.

This was not the creature that had stalked her hungrily.

When she stilled and no longer pulled against it, the creature’s hand fell away. Its too-big eyes flicked over her shoulder, and a look of consternation crossed its slender, angular face before it returned its attention to her.

Its hand pressed against its thin chest, and it bowed gracefully, leaves rustling.

“Welcome back, Serafia,” it said softly in a light male voice. His eyes flicked back to the forest again. “You have attracted unpleasant attention with your unguarded stroll through the forest.”

She looked back over her shoulder again, still unable to find the menacing presence lurking in the dark. Questions welled on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back, for now.

The creature moved Sera gently but firmly behind his thin frame without taking his eyes from the dark trees ahead, where she felt more than saw the shifting among them.

The tree-like creature turned swiftly and bent to her height.

“It smells fear. Do not fear, and it cannot find you.” His accent was rich and exotic but entirely unidentifiable, his voice smooth and light, as if they discussed the weather and not whatever stalked through the night.

“Now run!” he said, shoving her down the path and spinning to face the roaring creature that crashed toward them.