Hello, From the Edge of the World

Chapter Four: Part Two

"Part Two: "Roots and Twigs"

My head throbbed as I awoke to the sound of the snow—which dripped all around me, twinkling as though the stars in the sky had made their way to earth—for the mood of the Deepwoods became unbearable with unpredictability. The trees that usually teemed with growth, now lingered with anguish over the memories of the past, in remembrance of those whom they loved. Everything began flooding back to me: the woodsaps, the chasms, the earthquake, and the tarry-vine—which left me in a tangled, thorny mess. Truly, the forests were not to be trifled with, for many things that are familiar can also prove to be deadly. Nervously, I began to finger with the amulets which hung around my neck, simply to feel an ounce of comfort. "There is no use in staying here," I said. Cries rang out in the distance, and dangerous eyes glowed from gnarled tree trunks. "The woods are waking up, and something else will find Elspeth and Nicole if I do not find them first."

Putting one foot in front of the other, I wandered through the dense, tangled forest, picking out the thorns from my arms. Unfortunately, gangly-looking travelers such as myself are not built to survive in this realm, unlike the Banderbear with its massive size, or the shorter and stockier Woodtrolls. "Surely if I keep going, I'll reach the path," I muttered, under my breath. "Surely!" I repeated. I paused, feeling the sudden wave of homesickness wash over me at the mention of Woodtrolls. I wanted to go home, and I desperately longed to see Spelda, but I could not go back now. The Slaughterers, being the beasts that they are, proved the idea of turning around to be risky. Going forward, I found myself wandering into a grove of trees—lufwood trees to be exact—that gave off a homely scent. Breathing in a sigh of relief, I soaked in the turquoise light, and listened to the sound of strings playing softly over me. "I'm home."

The music felt soft and sad—such was the mood of the world around me in that moment—and echoes of voices filled my thoughts as the air grew misty. I lowered my hands and looked around at the unintelligible shapes in front of me. Out of the blue, I heard something creak behind me, and felt a shadowy presence run quickly through the clearing. "Who's there?" I said, pulling out my naming knife. "I'm warning you—I won't take any chances—show yourself!" I shouted into the fog. The music grew into a crescendo, as a short and stocky figure stepped out from the darkness. I gasped, for there was no mistaking her profile: the rubbery nose, stumpy legs, and strong figure. "Mother-mine," I said, softly. "She must have come looking for me, I can't lose her now that she is taking me back home!"

I began to chase after her, but she had disappeared already. "Mother," I cried. "Come back, Mother-mine, it's me." Suddenly, I began to hear giggling that came from the behind the bushes. The music fell lower as I pushed my way through the growth, shaking and tingling as I crept closer towards her. She did not turn around to show her face, nor did she welcome me into her embrace. 'Why is she acting this way?' I gulped. Without notice, there came a loud, groaning noise, and a series of footsteps that crashed heavily behind me. "Hrum, Hoom," went the noise, and before I could even react, a gnarled, wooden arm snatched me by the waist, and held me in the air. The creature looked at me with deep, penetrating eyes—that seemed to be brimming with slow, solemn memories—but felt as if he had lived somewhere far away. His face and body were draped in mossy bark, which was coloured with shades of green and grey.

"Run, Spelda!" I yelled. But it was too late, for I watched as this giant tree step on Spelda, crushing her to death. I screamed in horror, as I heard her wails die out, only to see her lifeless body lying on the ground beneath me. "NOOOO!" I howled. "She's dead—and it's all your fault—you murdered my mother! How could you do this to me? What did Spelda do to you?" I sobbed, frantically, while trying to fight my way from his crushing grip. "Very odd you are, indeed. Root and twig, very odd!" murmured the strange tree-giant. He—if it was even a he—lowered his hand down towards the body. I could not bear to look at her without bursting into tears. "Examine this body again, Twig, and tell me if this is really your mother," he asked. I began to pull back her hair but yelped in surprise. Now that I looked at the body again, it did not look like the mother that I knew.

There were rows of sharp teeth, that could cut through flesh, and eyes that bulged in two directions. Claws that were like meat hooks protruded from its hands—and unlike Spelda's leathery skin and button nose—there was not a nose to be seen, but slits atop greasy skin. The tree-giant held me up to his face again, and stroked his beard, which was made of long twigs. "Is it the Gloamglozer?" I asked the tree. He took a long, laborious sigh before giving his answer. "Many terrible tricks, does the Deepwoods play on us, but do not be hasty master Twig. This is not the Gloamglozer, but instead is the manifestation of your own human judgment," he responded. "This monster is called a Skullpelt—better known to you as a shapeshifter. They prey on unlucky souls, such as yourself, who become lost among the lufwood trees. If I had seen your face, before I heard your voice—I might have trampled on you as well—before realizing my fallacies. You see, Skullpelts take on the outer form of what we love most, but what is on the inside can prove itself perilous."

In that moment, time seemed to have stood still—and refrained from the hasty troubles of others—yet the world still spun uncontrollably. I had spent so many hours longing for home, under the stereotype of the slaughterers, that the illusion of what felt familiar almost killed me. But what was "home?" I had never belonged with the Woodtrolls, nor felt like I was truly wanted by anyone except for Spelda. Even they had cut down lufwoods for their own benefit. Would they have cut them down if they had known the tree-giants existed? Father Tuntum always told me, "Stay on the path, stay on the path," but my destiny was never on their path. I had to find out where I was going, and who I am supposed to be, on my own. The tree-giant's voice interrupted my thoughts as he began taking long strides into the forest. "Where shall I leave you, Master Twig?" he said. I looked into his eyes, and said, "To whatever path leads me home."