The Wood

The House on the Hill

He returned later with more food, a thick strip of meat on a wood platter and a small roll of hard bread that he cut in two and dipped in honeyed water. As I ate, I marveled at how he was able to supply such food. He seemed to read my mind.

"I am hunter. My father taught me much about the wood, how to make it mine, how to feed myself from it. I also have animals outside, goats and a few chicken." I nodded, then spoke through a mouthful of meat.

"This is all quite well made, you are very talented with cooking." He beamed. "My mother was baker and cook, she taught me much about how to make food fit for king." I nodded, finishing up the bread. He put out his hand and I gave him back the empty platter. "That was rabbit leg and barley bread soak in boil pine sap and water. I am glad you enjoy, I not have anyone to make food for but mine self in long time." I sat there, unsure of what to say. We sat in silence for a moment, then he stood. "The folk of the village know of you. Anton, the man at gate, he saw you, has been telling others that you must be a strigoi, or a uniila, a...how to say..." He mimed having horns and hissed. "From...below, yes?" He pointed down. It dawned on me.

"A demon? Devil?" I asked. He shrugged, unsure.

"Some has been saying I should have left you out there in the wood, that you are nothing of a person." I looked at him, eyes wide. "Do not worry, boy, I do not agree. Once we go to Madus and people see you with their eye, they will forget such things." I nodded, and he winked. "How is pain? Getting better?" I nodded again. "Good. Your feet heal well. Soon we go to village." I nodded once more. "Alright, I will bring in water for wash, and then more cloth for feet." He walked out, soon returning with a bucket and a rough cloth. I unwrapped my feet, happy to see they seemed to be healing well, like he said. I washed them thoroughly, flecks of dried blood and dirt making the water brown and red. When I was done, my scabs were irritated and itchy from all the scrubbing, but I got a good look at my wounds. The only truly bad injury I could see was a deep puncture in my left foot, shoving daggers of pain up my ankle when I pressed on it. The rest looked much less severe after they were cleaned, and I wrapped my feet up feeling much better. However, once I had the wrappings back on, I was forced to reflect on the earlier events. I had been trying to ignore my shocking lack of memory since waking up on the forest floor, and it worked out, as I had other things to occupy my attention. Now that I was left with nothing to do, I was left with deeply troubling thoughts. I had no idea who I was, where I had come from, where I was, what had happened to me, and, most worrying of all, what would happen next. I sat and stared at the ceiling. It was a long time before sleep took me.

The first time it happened, he was in the woods. The hunger struck the boy hard, filling his whole being with an unimaginably strong hunger. He had been watching a mother rabbit when the urge struck him, sitting with its babies. Within seconds the boy was up and running, catching the rabbits by surprise. The mother hopped away, but the little ones, only a few days old, had no idea what to do, and before they could make it anywhere, he had grabbed one in each hand and stuffed them into his mouth. The rest he crushed and smashed and shoved in his mouth soon after, eating them fur, bones, eyes and organs all. When he stumbled into his home with bloodstained hands and face sticky with gore, his mother screamed. He barely noticed, his mind occupied with speculations of where the mother rabbit had ran to.

I was woken up by Gavril for dinner, consisting of some more rabbit, as well as another barley roll. Instead of birch sap, he had brought a thin slice of goat cheese, and a cup of goat's milk. I ate in silence, as he sat and watched. When I had finished the rabbit, he got up and left without any warning. I didn't let it bother me, focusing on the bread and cheese. He returned with a pair of boots, and a strange stick. He placed the boots next to my bed, and leaned the stick against the wall.

"I know that you must become done with rest, so I have made walking stick for you, to help get around. If you like, we go for walk? It still light out, you may see mine land." I nodded, grateful to have the opportunity to get up and move around. I swung my legs off the cot and pulled on the boots. He brought me the stick, smiling broadly. I got up slowly, then let placed the stick's top in my armpit and grasped the handle with my hand. It allowed me to walk without too much weight on my left foot, using the crutch instead of my injured leg. I smiled at him gratefully.

"Thank you." He nodded eagerly and led me through his small home. I was sleeping in a room that connected to his main living area, which held a large wooden table with hand crafted chairs, a stove, and the front door. The walls were simple wooden planks, the ground covered in animal pelt rugs. There were three doorways, one on the far wall behind us, one leading outside, and then the door to the room I was in. He pointed to the door behind us. "That is where most food is kept, plus other supplies." He turned and pointed at the door on the other side of the room. "We go through there, leads outside." We went out. It was a beautiful view. The sun was about to set, painting the skyline orange and blue. All around us were the tall pine trees, creating a dark contrast from the light sky. He lived on a hill, with a large stone wall built around his area. Past the stone wall, the forest stood, silent and enticing. I felt the strangest urge to run to it, to allow its mists to pull me away, the scent of pine and wet earth overpowering. He saw the expression on my face and misjudged confusing wanting for fear. "Do not worry, boy. The wolves can not reach the two of we here, they are not hungry enough to try. Here is my goats, Dorel and Cezar. Hello, Cezar!" A large white goat walked over, nuzzling Gavril's leg and bleating, while another smalled, spotted goat calmly ate at a patch of weeds. Gavril smiled and rubbed Cezar's head. He led me to the chicken coop, introducing me to his chickens, Dorel II, Alexandru and Sjen. When we exited the coop, I looked around his meager property, and was overcome with confusion. I turned to Gavril, who was still beaming proudly.

"Gavril, I don't understand."

"What is not understand, Mátyás?"

"You do not have much, yet you have done so much for me. Why bother? You have no idea who I am, you don't owe me anything." He went silent and the smile disappeared. I feared I had angered him when he raised his hand and pointed down the hill to a large tree. Underneath were two large stones, two small mounds of dirt. From each grew a single white rose. "I had people to cook for once." The sorrow in his voice was obvious. I nodded solemnly.

"I'm sorry, Gavril."

"It is hard, to live alone. I'm glad I have found you." He patted me on the back. With that, he turned and walked into the house.