The Woods

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Step into the Woods."

A few days had passed, and I found myself being summoned to the Head Representative again. He didn't bother with questions, having realised that even if I did remember everything, I would reveal nothing. He was smart, I would give him that.

And so, I found myself being dragged to the edge of town, where he had left me to die just a month before.

"What?" I asked, not bothering to hide my horror. I had no idea what the Fae would do to me if I returned, and I certainly didn't want to find out.

"You heard me." The old man shifted his weight, his beady eyes boring into me. "You came out alive before, didn't you? Step into the Woods." His tone told me that he wasn't in the mood to argue, so I pursed my lips and considered my options. Cain had mentioned that killing me would likely make the Woods turn against them. And perhaps, with it being daytime, the faeries wouldn't dare to attack me. Or I would just be killed.

A glance at the Head Representative was enough to make me step forward toward the treeline, my heart pounding as I reached the end of the paved road. I managed to move only one more step before I found myself hitting a wall of sorts. Trembling slightly, I raised a hand and placed it against the wall. It was cool to the touch.

"What are you doing?" the Head Representative asked. I turned to him, noting his furrowed brow.

"I can't go past this point," I replied. "It's as if there is some sort of barrier."

He frowned, moving forward and waving his hand past my own. He could pass through it with ease. Upon his instruction, I pressed my other hand against the wall. His frustration was evident.

"I suppose they don't want you to return." He was right, and the thought made my heart sink. I knew they had good reason to believe it was my presence causing the attacks, but it didn't stop the clenching feeling in my chest. I shook my head, trying to make the thoughts leave me. I would not get upset, and especially not in front of the Head Representative.

"If I can't pass through, what are you intending to do next?" I asked.

He stared at me for a while, stroking his beard in thought. "The people fear you." I narrowed my eyes, unsure of where he would take this. "The town used to burn people like you. They called them witches and threw them to the flames. And suddenly, the only problem they had was brushing away the ashes."

"So, you intend to kill me?" I paled slightly, but my eyes seemed to burn; not with tears, but with something else.

He laughed, sending him into a coughing fit. Frowning slightly, I waited for him to compose himself. He was sick. Which, for his age, would be normal, but it was so unusual to see the leader of the town look so weak.

"Miss Clark, I have no intentions of bringing harm to you. The last time I ordered that was sixteen years ago, and people asked too many questions. Everyone is so nosey. While some may be relieved, others will want to know what you have done, and may piece together that something happened in the Woods."

It was clear he knew exactly what the Woods held, then. Of course, I knew that Cain had asked him questions, and the ears and tail were a dead giveaway to who he was. But it seemed he knew much more than he let on.

"If you're not going to kill me, what are you going to do?" I snapped, my head beginning to throb.

"The people will rid of you themselves. I doubt they will kill you, but if you did something to spoil your reputation, they wouldn't hesitate to make you leave. Then you wouldn't be a problem at all."

I didn't doubt that the people would turn on me eventually. I had returned from the Woods alive, not taken as a sacrifice as originally intended. I was a fluke, and they feared me because of it.

I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. "So, you're going to frame me for something?"

"Of course not," he smiled. "I'm sure you will do something eventually. You never were one to follow the rules."

With that, he left me at the edge of the Woods to stare after him and think over his words. How could he be so sure that I would make a mistake? I had to admit that before being sent into the Woods, I had upset some people by disrespecting traditions, but would that catch up to me now?

I nibbled my lip, unsure of what to do. If I didn't want to be sent away, I needed to keep a low profile. Of course, I had intended to do that anyway, but if the Head Representative thought people would turn on me, I needed to be more careful.

I stared into the Woods for a few moments, my stomach twisting, before I quickly turned away and began to make my way home. It had been just a week since I returned, and it already felt as if I didn't belong. I couldn't help but notice the glances as I slipped through the crowds, though I tried to convince myself that it was just my black clothing drawing the attention.

It had saddened me that I was the only one who mourned Father. People had worn black to the funeral, but no one had continued to afterwards, as if they didn't want to be associated with him. I had never noticed any troubles in his relationships, so it seemed unusual. But I just assumed it was because of my presence. A superstition, perhaps.

By the time I had reached home, it was noon and I was hungry. I had some tarts I had bought the day before, so I happily munched on them as I went about sweeping the bakery. With the Head Representative summoning me that day, I hadn't the time to bake anything to sell, so the bakery was closed.

It surprised me when a woman walked in, a basket on her arm and a smile on her face. A glance at her full skirts and honey-coloured skin told me she wasn't from the town. It was likely from a neighbouring town, probably one near the sea, if her skin told me anything.

"Good afternoon," I smiled, setting the broom aside. "How may I help you?"

"Hello!" she chirped. "I'm looking for Jonathon Clark; he's an old friend." She must've seen my face drop, for a hand flew to her mouth.

"My father," I murmured. "He passed away a week ago."

"Oh, my dear child, I'm so sorry." Her cheerfulness had melted away, her eyes listening with tears. "I just wish I had come to visit sooner."

We stood in silence for a few moments, before she pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed away at her eyes. When she looked up, she seemed to be fighting to remain composed.

"May I help you in his stead?" I asked.

She seemed to hesitate, her fingers absentmindedly adjusting the shawl that was tied around her head. "I don't know. The last time we spoke, he promised me that he would have an old painting of his wife replicated."

"My mother?" I murmured, more to myself than anything. It didn't stop her from continuing.

"Oh, yes. When she first arrived here, we were practically hip-to-hip all the time. It was awful when my husband decided we were to move to another town. By the time I was able to visit, the poor thing had passed away. It was truly awful; even Jonathon refused to speak of it."

I had never even heard of her. "If I might ask, when did you last visit? Father never mentioned anyone before."

"My husband never lets me travel often," she sighed. "I visited every few years, although I have only seen you when you were a babe. He always told me you were out with a friend the other times I visited."

My lips tugged up; it sounded like me. "I don't know if he had one replicated, but I suppose I can see what he has."

"Oh, thank you!" Her smile bloomed once again.

"I have to admit that I haven't even been into his room since his passing," I said quietly. "I hate to ask, but would you mind helping me?"

"Of course." She took my hands in her own and smiled. I wasn't sure what it was, perhaps something like fate that brought me to that moment, but I felt safe. Whatever it was, it made me smile back.