Forest is close, trees are far

iii. Bjerne

Dearest,

How the days seem long and the nights dry. The air is good, they assure me, but I don't trust them. The air is good, as long as you breathe it by the rules. Forest laws are not respected here, patriarchy reigns here. Nigleas says that I need fear nothing, that the beliefs of his bride are not nor will become ours. Nigleas doesn't know about you. Nigelas doesn't know much. 

I neither knew nor wanted to find out. I found them, in fact to find someone you have to look for them. And I wasn't looking for anyone. So I did not find them, but stumbled upon their pastime. She slammed the door on me, but it failed to wipe away the whiteness that flashed on me for a moment. 

The wall is cold, I curl up on the floor, I feel the vibrations of music and waves of murmur under my heels. I imagine hearing the echoes of your notes, notes that I imagine as signposts that will lead me to you. I will find you in the woods, in white, and they will be there, and we will all laugh and the monsters will never catch up with us. Because forest laws do not allow villains to enter the greenery. 

No one finds me curled up, because in order for anyone to find me, someone would have to look for me first. I hope, I'm afraid, I wish it was you. 

A muffled whisper is heard through the window. She's probably telling him that there's no panic, that I'm no threat, that I won't say anything. Just a little plant, that's that's what I am. I want to run, I want you to be here, to break down the door and take me by the hand after yours, for us, confrontation with them. 

She's wrong. I will say, but with the language of trees and leaves that will be for people as if they are listening to the silent, voiceless sob of the wind that disappears in the night. I wonder if anyone would notice I disappeared? Would Nigleas stop the celebration and go look for me? Would the news ever come to you that the girl with the words left without saying goodbye? And would you even know who they were talking about? 

Someone is singing somewhere: 

A girl will not love a girl. 

The world will laugh at her naivety.