the wind in the willows

The willow trees whistled and groaned with the existential exhaustion of lost and wandering damned souls seeking unachievable salvation amongst the shadowy corners of the earth. Shadows that stretched just that little bit too long in the growing gloom, swayed and danced a little too erratically as a swirl of bitter wind stirred up the leaves that had begun to rot into nothingness on the forest floor. All was too silent, the quiet of the grave reaching its spectral hands up to clasp at the living, even the occasional cry of a night bird seemed muffled, as if they understood it was not their place to cut through the quiet. Clouds, heavy with the promise of rain, darkened the sky further, the rapidly approaching night aided along with the efforts the clouds made to blot out what little light the waning sun attempted to offer all the same. 

It really was quite awful out there, and the steady reminder that winter was waiting just around the corner was doing very little to improve Milicent’s mood very much. She had not intended to stay out for as long as she had, truly, but time had gotten away from her and the sun had begun its voyage into the far horizon long before she realized she really ought to be home before it became so very late that she might not be able to see her own gloved hands if she were to stretch her hand out in front of her. Though her mouth felt heavy with captures sighs, it felt oddly wrong to do anything that might dent the stillness around her, and so she had to content herself with the task of drawing her shawl, unfortunately more fashionable than functional, a little tighter around herself. It did little to combat the chill, but it felt more proactive than to not do anything at all. 

So caught up in her woes of wandering about the forest at such a ghastly hour and the pleasant idea of getting to settle down in front of the fireplace with a nice cup of tea to rid her of any lingering chills when she did get home, she did not realise there was anything amiss at first. It had been quite by chance that this blissful ignorance was disrupted. All it took was as a misstep, a gnarled root catching the heel of her boot in a way that made her stumble in just enough of a way that made her all too aware that there had been a footstep behind her. 

She hadn’t been the most fond of navigating the woods all alone as she had been, but she had made peace with the idea and so the idea that she had not been quite as alone as she thought left her with the sensation of iced water being poured steadily down her back, little chills racing through her on paths of their own. Perhaps, she tried to rationalise it to herself with little success, she had just misheard what she thought she heard. It would have been perfectly easy to confirm it in one way or another by simply tossing a glance over her shoulder and having done with it, yet, and for reasons she could not quite understand, the idea of looking back into the steadily encroaching darkness filled her with a fear that she could not hope to explain even to herself. If she was really alone there, she knew she would have to keep her head, and if she was not alone, that was all the more reason to keep her head about it all.

The very idea of not quite being there alone caused her heart to race, a thunder in her ears that felt altogether counterproductive as it felt more necessary than ever to strain her ears to pick up anything at all that could possibly suggest danger. While it was to a debatable degree of success, she made the effort to slow her breathing, hoping the steadiness of it would make something more steady in the beating of her heart. With the assumption that there was something behind her that she didn’t want to see and did not necessarily want to know she knew it was there, she resumed walking onwards as if she did not have a care in the world. It felt woefully unsuccessful, of course, Millicent hardly thought she was the greatest actor in the world, but she did hope that she was just being unduly harsh on herself. 

She didn’t want to rush into things and risk losing the opportunity to ever leave the trees, or something equally grizzly, but the agonizing minutes of not knowing seemed to drag out through a torturous eternity. She had not been quite sure if there was anything there at all, and then she was. All it took was a careful, intentional misstep. The steady rhythm of her footfalls ending as she made all the motions of setting a foot down but did not quite commit enough to actually set a foot down onto the leafy forest floor. 

Yet the sound of a soft footstep sounded all the same. 

This was absolutely brilliant news, as it confirmed that not only was there something following her, it was smart enough to know how to time its footfalls with her own so that they blended together well enough for her to not notice them at first. Actually, that was not brilliant at all, far from it in fact, but what was good was that she knew that there was something there so she could do something about it. 

Ignorance was bliss, as they say, but knowledge was hell. 

She knew all too well that she had no hope of being able to fight, though she was sure she could flail and scratch about if it came to it, and likewise she knew there the less said about her stamina the better, so fleeing was hardly the most ideal outcome either. 

But by goodness, she was not going to die out there, that would just be too horrible to consider. So, she did what any frightened young woman in an impossible situation would do. She gathered up her skirts and did what she had to in order to survive. 

While she assumed the thing was acquainted with the forest, so was she and she knew this worked in her favour. It was foolish to run in a forest at night when she could barely see the ground, but she did pick up her pace enough to make a steady retreat. Though she was reluctant to stray too far from the worn footpath she travelled, she made the most of her familiarity and so ducked and weaved through the trunks of the trees. 

This was not quite as subtle as it could have been, evidently, as whatever it was that was following her gave up on its play of copying her footsteps as perfectly as it had been, every few steps of her own being accompanied by a discordant third that had no place in her rational mind to be heard at all. The subtlety was replaced by something that she could not help but consider to be some cruel mockery at her expense. 

The willow trees that flanked her path up until that moment had begun to fade out before she really noticed it. The willows themselves were artificial, introduced during the time the village had expanded, and while there had supposedly been a great outcry against this at the time, she could not imagine what the forest would be like without them there. They had always felt cosy, though they had rather lost some of their charm the longer she had to rely on them to, and she could only really hope as she still dared not look back, keep the distance between her and her pursuer. In fact, as she stumbled into the denser thicket of elm trees that marked the outskirts of the forest, she found the knot in her chest loosening just a little. Which was funny, in a tragic sort of way, to find comfort in the company of elm trees considering they notoriously hated mankind and would actively drop their limbs without warning just to spite people. 

For just a moment, she dared to let herself drop back to a more comfortable pace than her swift speedwalking, daring to believe the worst of her troubles were over. It had been an unfounded hope, one that she hoped came with the change of foliage, and more so just because she hoped she might be able to give her legs a rest before they started to ache enough to cause a problem. 

Any hope for this to be true, however, was promptly dashed as a chilling sound, far too close for comfort, set her blood to ice. 

It was the sound of something very sharp, be it a claw or a knife’s edge, carving slowly through the thick wood of a tree just to her left. 

Up until that moment, she would have liked to think that she was behaving rather rationally in light of the circumstances. This sound striped away any sense of this rationality in less time than it took for her heart to complete a single heartbeat. The threat was real, any hope that she was merely catastrophizing was replaced with the dreadful realisation that, if anything, she had understated the sheer complexity of the danger she was in. Which was saying something considering she had previously concluded the whole ordeal would inevitably end in her very dead amongst the leaves if she was not careful. 

So, she ran.

Through the elms, through the darkness that robbed her of any hope of a consistent path, through the pain the exertion brought, and through the terror that left spots burnt into her vision. All that mattered in that moment was to get away from the accursed thing that had been stalking her through the trees for goodness only knew how long. A lifetime? A heartbeat? Did it truly matter? In that moment they were one and the same, a fleeting eternity of terror. 

All that mattered to her there and then was the steadily growing gaps in the trees before her. 

She had always considered herself to be a most dignified person, prided herself on it in fact, but she carried none of this dignity as she emerged from the treeline. Her breath was ragged and sharp, her lungs aching with each that shook her frame. Each rapid pulse of her heart made her head ache in a way she was far from fond of. Exhaustion and terror fought against the adrenaline that shocked her nerves, a battle for dominance that kept her from flinging herself down to close cropped grass to sob her racing heart out. Really, the only thing that kept her from sinking down to the ground was the thought that itched unpleasantly in the back of her mind, reminding her with no uncertain terms that she might not be nearly as safe as she would hope to be. 

Yet, out there in the open as she was, she found she felt just that little bit more bold than she had while navigating the labyrinth of the trees and so she cast her gaze back. Peering into the darkness of the foliage, dancing in the breeze. All was still, silent, just as one might hope of a forest that close to winter.

But then, for a fraction of a moment, she locked eyes with the thing. A dull yellow glow as it stared back at her. It did not seem particularly reassuring, yet the gaze did not seem to hold any real malice. It was the gaze of a beast that had its den invaded and so was prepared to do what was necessary to defend itself.

And then she was alone by the forest on the outskirts of the town.