More than what you bargained for

I've always seen these mountains as the edge of the world - a fine line between another world and the mundane activities of salt drying meat and choping firewood for the upcoming winter. Beyond the purple mist that wreaths the evergreen branches and the the rays of sunlight filtering through the branches, there always seems to be... more. When the pathway from the cottage to the treeline fades from crunching gravel to the crackle of dried leaves and snap of branches underfoot, the woods seem to hold their breath. The birds quiet for a split second and the breeze rustling the branches ceases. Then, as if having acknowledged my familiar presence, the sounds of the forest pick back up.

I pick through the hardened terrain with familiar steps, wicker basket in hand. Rays of sun alight through the thick clusters of branches and undergrowth - golden in the late afternoon. It will be dark soon but with the sharp bite of winter at the doorstep of the cottage, like hungry dogs, I want to try to get the last of the berries from the bushels along the path before the first frost blankets the mountains. I work quickly, occasionally snagging my hands on the thorny stems in my haste. Through the dark trunks of the trees I see more bushels, heavy with fat berries, glistening like gems, but I'd been warned not to leave the path lest some fae thing entrap me with their food and drink and steal me away.

I knew of course, that such tales were just that - tales. Told my older brother and mother - to scare me and keep me from wandering too far into the thick woods - although my brother most likely just wanted to scare me. That is the nature of older brothers, afterall. Besides, the fae hadn't been spotted here for 50 years. I was too old for that nonsense now and Adam had long since moved away, to the heart of the village with his wife.

A branch snapped sharply, drawing me from my thoughts, and my foot nearly slipped on the loose soil. I shivered and steeled myself, looking down into my basket. A handful of berries lay skattered across the bottom, rolling with my steps. The bushes were sparse, having already been picked nearly clean by myself and other hungry bellies from the village. I sighed as I arrived in a clearing, looking up at the orange sky as the sun fell below the tree line. A minute more and I would head back home. My stomach churned with the thought of showing up, nearly empty handed, as I gazed at the ripe berries, untouched by other foragers, beyond the line of the clearing. I knew what I had to do.

I steeled myself and clambered through the bushes, dress and cloak snagging. Making sure to keep my eyes on the clearing from whence I had just come, I stuffed berries hurredly into the basket, ignoring the picks of the thorns. In my haste, some of the berries were crushed beneath my fingers, and their sweet juice mixed with the blood on my fingers. A particularly nasty thorn stabbed my hand and I cursed, bringing my hand to my mouth to suck on the wound. I examined the prick and decided it was best I got home. I had enough now to stave off the disapointed look mother would have if she thought we'd go another day without fully bellies.

I began to pick my way through the brush and stopped, confused. Had I come from this way or that way? I was in the clearing, but couldn't seem to find the path that lead back home. I stiffled a hysterical giggle - it was almost ironically comical that I was lost - the ONE time I left the path. I could hear my brother and mother chastizing me in my head. One area of the clearing broke away and I could see where the leaves had been disturbed, the branches broken by someone only clumsy enough to be a human. I picked my way over and set off down the trail.

The sun was nearly gone now, yet there was no cooing of nightbirds to be heard. I squinted, tryign to adjust my eyes to the fading light. Did this path look familiar? I searched for landmarks - the stump from when an old oak had fallen, the rock that jutted out to trip up unaware humans. I didn't see any of them. I doubled back, determined to find the clearing again before the light faded completely. The stories of strange fae creatures my family had told me echoed through my head as my footfalls began to feel increasingly louder in the silent woods.

I had doubled back for far longer than I had originally been walking when I stopped, making a full 360 before sinking to my knees on a rock in defeat. I was lost.

I had taken the wrong path.

I heard a rustle in the underbrush and felt my heart bounding in my chest, yet my body was frozen in fear. My breath hissed between my teeth and I tried to quiet it. In horror, I watched as green, three foot tall creature hobbled toward me. It skin was smooth, the color of leaves and giant yellow eye peered at me from its face. Wicked sharp horns curled from its head. It opened its mouth and croaked up at me.

"You have eaten the food of the fae. You are property of the fae."

I stared reproachfully at it. "I most certainly have not."

Another little goblin creature appeared from the branches, and I felt my awarness expand around me. Yellow eyes gleamed from the leaves. The first creature gestured at my hand with little hands.

"The juice of our berries stains your fingers and lips - as well as your own mortal blood."

I cursed. Sucking the blood from the thorn bush that had speared my hand. A dirty faerie trick. I'd bet a gold mark I wasn't the first mortal they had tricked.

"Terrible fae trickery." I hissed at the little goblin.

A smile widened across its face, as if it was pleased by my ire, and it blinked its yellow eyes at me slowly - like a cat.

"You come with us." The bushes rustled as the other fae prepared for my resistance. I was outnumbered - even if they were only 3 feet tall.

"No!" I cried. "You tricked me."

The fae did not respond, only tugged at my cloak.

"What must I do for you not to take me?"

The goblin scratched its chin, as if it was scratching facial hair, which seemed like a poor mockery of something it had watched a human do. It seemed to mundane, to normal for its tiny clawed hands and smooth green skin.

"Something of equal or greater value." It said. The woods rustled with agreement from the other fae. The creature looked up at me mischevously.

"I am of no value." I said. "I am just a girl."

"Wrong. You are a human mortal. You burn as bright as the flame of a match, and your life lasts about as long. You are beautiful, fae are cold. Immortality has made us so."

I thought of my mother. I couldn't leave her alone in the house to fend for herself. She very well could starve with the upcoming winter.

"I have nothing." I whispered, defeatedly. My mind was spinning. I thought of Adam - he was whip smart, he would know what to do. But Adam wasn't here. He was home, in the heart of the village, with his wife and their newborn on her mothers hip - his newborn!

"Wait." I said. "A baby. Would you take a baby?" I knew it was a terrible thing to do. I felt sick.

The fae goblin grinned ear to ear. "Yes, girl. We would take a baby." It said.

"Okay." I replied. Tears burned in my eyes. "My brother has just had a new baby with his wife."

"Oh far from fair for you, foolish human. A deal is a deal." Said the creature delightedly. It waved a little green hand and a path opened, cutting through the brush, the cottage visible in the distance. "Hurry now." It cackled, and slunk back into the trees with its companions.

I bolted, the brush closing on my heals with an unnatural rustle and crash. My heard pounded, the wicker basket left behind, lost to the creatures of the forest. I cleared the line of the trees and bolted inside, slamming the wooden door behind me and bolting it - as if that would do anything against the creatures lurking in the woods.

I tried to steady my breaths as I leaned against the locked door. Dispair rose in me as I thought back to its lasts words: "far from fair, foolish human," and I realized that the trade I had made with the fae had been far from just. It got its mortal human soul, but I knew that this secret would weigh on me for the rest of my life. That the fear and knowlegde of what I had done would haunt me, feeding the wretched creature - another fae trick, getting more than what it had bargained for.

In the heart of the village, from a pretty little house, a cry rose up, chilling the night, as a woman discovered her babys crib empty.