The Forest Of Myths

The Forest Of Myths

Hello, my name is Thorn Cinderwood, and I'm about to share the story of how I realized who I am and all that I have the power to do. It started two months after my thirteenth birthday. It was a beautiful summer day in July, with perfect blue skies and very few clouds. There was a slight breeze that felt wonderful in the searing heat of the sun. I was sitting by my parent's private lake, staring out at the ominous forest that laid just beyond the opposite shore of the lake. I am an only child coming from a fairly wealthy family. My parents rarely spend much time with me. They're usually too busy at the large company they both work for called Twin Pines Incorporated. I never much liked that place. When I was younger I used to make up stories about the forest that thrives just beyond our large property; some of witches, wizards, and ghouls. Others of naiads, dryads, and Druids. Myths about the dragon that dwells in the deepest, darkest part of the forest, guarding an unknown, mysterious treasure. Legends of bloodthirsty werewolves hunting for unlucky human dinner delights. And all the many other stories you know, for the name of this forest is the Forest of Myths. Here is where it all began. Let me share this story as I lived it myself.

Daydreaming on my beach blanket in the summer sand, I don't notice the ripples that are forming in the shallows of the water. I'm about to start back toward my house, when all of a sudden a hand springs from the water, grabbing my ankle with an unyielding grip. I'm so shocked that I just stand still - paralyzed, gawking at the slimy hand glued to my skin. In an instant I'm sprawled flat on my face on the soft, sandy ground, being pulled by my ankle frighteningly fast, speeding closer to the water that lay ahead. I claw at what little I can only to have sand fly through half closed fingers. Terrified and disoriented, I feel the cool, fresh water against my burning skin. Spluttering, I finally come out of shock long enough to realize I should be screaming, and as I open my mouth to let the sound escape, my mouth fills with water, and I gasp for air as I choke, just as another wave pulls me under with the hand still clamped to my ankle. Eventually my pace slows, and I am released in the shallows of the unknown beach on the shore of the Forest of Myths. I stumble and sink to the ground, exhausted.

. . .

Slowly regaining consciousness, I take in my surroundings; the trees all so much taller than they seemed from my parent's lake. The breeze smells of fresh pine and I can hear rushing water from a stream that I assume isn't too far from where I stand. There is a narrow path that continues for about twenty meters and disappears around a bend. I take in the pretty white and gold speckled flowers that grow everywhere. The ground is soft and the earth is a rich reddish brown, the same colour as my hair. I look up at the well filled in canopy and wander into a clearing. Judging from where the sun is, I'd say it's close to noon, though I could be mistaken because, although it's sunny at this point, the sky is quickly clouding over. I can't swim, so I won't be able to get back across the lake. I could make a raft and sail back across, but I would need wood, and lots of it. The sky turns to overcast as I journey back to where I first woke up, goose bumps crawling on my skin while I walk, and am surprised to see a poorly made lean-to a little ways along the same path. I hear a crackling fire a bit closer off from where I stand listening. I keep walking, trying to be as silent as the forest will allow me to be. What surprises me even more is a tall, lean boy, around my age, stoking a fire. I silently creep forward, choosing my steps carefully in the hope that he won't hear me. I lean against a thick trunked tree in case he turns so I have a place to hide. I study him: the way he tends his roaring fire, the way his sandy blond hair rustles in the wind, the grip he uses to hold the long, thin poking stick. Giving no signals whatsoever that he would change position, he then whips his head to the right from where my tree stands as I struggle to get behind it. But with my clumsiness and haste of action, my attempt to hide becomes a horrid mess. I've tripped and fallen, struggling to get up, as my long braided hair catches on a sharp root near my head. My navy blue ponytail falls from my hair, the braid unraveling, so my hair falls in wavy blankets around my head. I scraped my left leg when I fell, just above my knee, and am now regretting that I am currently wearing my short jean shorts that I was wearing on the extremely hot day before. Long pants would not only ensure that I most likely wouldn't have gotten scraped, but would also keep me from shivering so badly. I finally manage to stand, looking at the boy to see his mouth wide open. Poking stick dropped, the corners of his mouth turning up, obviously trying to restrain from laughing. He can't take it anymore, and begins laughing so much that he has to hold his stomach. I can feel my face burning. I know it's probably as red as it feels if not more. "Cut it out!" I say with what I hope is a stern but steady voice. The boy gets a few more laughs in before they start to subside. "Alright, alright. But you have to admit that was kind of funny," he says with a smirk, his blue grey eyes dancing. "Yeah for you maybe," I mutter, clearly annoyed. "So, what's your name?" He asks casually. "Thorn, Thorn Cinderwood," I say with more confidence than I feel. When I was younger, the other kids at school would tease me about my name, and although I never showed it, it bothered me. If this guy has the nerve to criticize my name even a little, I'm leaving, and going who knows where. "That's a pretty name. I like it," he says kindly. "Well that's a first. Thank you," I say with a sincere smile. "My name's Phoenix by the way," he adds quickly. "Where'd you come from? You don't really look like you know where you are, or what you're doing." "That's because I don't." We sit by the now dying fire as I tell him my whole story. After I finish, he looks at me amazed and concerned, his playful smile gone and replaced with a slight frown. "Oh, so you actually don't know what's going on," he says while pacing, eyebrows knit together in concentration. "Want to elaborate on that if you don't mind," I say, getting worried now. "Oh, sorry, well this is a difficult time for everybody, what with the prophecy almost upon us, and the rogue dragon awakened for the taste of the blood of whomever stole his beloved object, or objects," he says with a mischievous smile. As fast as his smile had appeared, it is now gone just as quickly, and replaced with the concentrated frown. He zips on a rain jacket that was on the ground beside him as he adds, "I don't believe the dragon has caught the thief yet, but eventually he will. The great, scaly beast will be searching everywhere, so be warned, he could very well think you're the thief." He smiles to himself while saying this. "And what's that supposed to mean?!" I say indignantly. "Oh nothing, just that you're obviously not the thieving type. I mean c'mon, it couldn't be you," his voice full with complete doubt. "Well why is that? Enlighten me" I say, offended. "Well, your attempt at being stealthy was terrible. I heard you as soon as you started up the path. I won't even go into detail on your gracefulness of hiding." My face reddens as he mentions this. "I meant to do that. It all could have been part of my brilliant plan to throw you off my trail," I say looking for an excuse. "Yeah. Sure. Alright then," he says, clearly tired of the subject. "Whatever. It doesn't really matter," I say. "Where are you going to stay anyways?" he says looking very concerned. "Oh, I never even really thought of that," I say realizing I can't very well just leave; not yet at least. "If you wanted, I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to... but you could stay with me. I mean not with me, but under the shelter of my lean-to because you know... it's probably going to rain," he stammers pointing up at the ugly sky. "It's just that I'm going to be there too, if you don't mind being in the same vicinity as me for a long period of time," he says with a sweet, awkward smile, cheeks reddening. I say, "I'd love to!" with a bit more enthusiasm than I intended. I have little sense of how much time has passed, but I have an idea, not from the sky, but from my growling stomach. We walk to the next clearing playing a game of twenty questions to get to know each other, as the sky continues to turn a darker, sicker shade of grey and it begins to spit, just as we come across the green-brown tarp of the lean-to crumpled to the ground and the semi-thick logs that now also lie strewn on the forest floor. "Shit! Not again," Phoenix mutters. "Umm, I take it that this has already happened, hasn't it?" "Yeah, for the third time today," he says, defeated. "Have you tried tying other, stronger knots instead of these kind?" I ask, holding the loose knot on the ground. "No, not really. I've tried... but they never hold for long. I'll try a more complicated knot this time. Since the storm's getting worse I think it would be best if you found a place to stay dry." "Sure," I agree as I start walking away. "You could look for some kind of shelter; a cave maybe, or a cluster of really short, dense trees!" Phoenix shouts over the now pouring rain, an earsplitting crack of thunder sounds and a sequential flash of lightning that brightens the sky as if it's mid-day, but darkens in a matter of seconds. I catch sight of a small cave a little ways off from the natural path of the forest. I sprint towards the hardly visible cave and tuck inside. I walk to the end of the hollow, ducking my head a bit. It's exceptionally dark, so much so that I can barely see my hand in front of my face. The pelting of heavy rain is all I hear with the frequent sounds of thunder as if a great lion were roaring, and the occasional tapping of water leaking through the cave ceiling. All I see is the rough, bumpy cave walls, and through the mouth of the cave I see the intimidating forest illuminated every time lightning pierces the sky. Although it has only been about twenty minutes since I left to find shelter, when Phoenix returns to the cave I feel safer. Phoenix's coat is dripping wet while he busily tries to fasten the tarp to the cave's opening. "I take it that the lean-to didn't stay up," I say smiling. "Gee, ya think," he says with a wild grin, droplets of water from his hair rolling down his neck. "I didn't manage to get that to work but I did manage to save this from getting soaked," he says, pulling a large pack from his back. "Whoa, where'd you get that?!" I say impressed. His face suddenly grows dark and sad. "Well, let's just say before I ran away I grabbed a few important things." "Oh, well..." I say trying to change the topic. "It's good that you did. What's in it?" I say, curiosity taking over. "Just the usual survival supplies; first aid kit, sleeping bags, extra clothing, Swiss Army knife, lighter, toiletries, extra batteries, flashlights, whistle, walkie talkies, lots of food and water, and pretty much anything else you can think of, I most likely have it," he says looking proud. "Am I glad that I found you or what?!" "Why, thank you," he says, taking out the large flashlight and setting up the sleeping bags. "Why'd you even bring two anyway?" I ask. He replies, "For an occasion just as this. I knew I'd probably come across somebody in this place." "Thanks, for everything. I mean, you didn't have to do any of this, yet you are." "Don't worry about it, it's not every day that a guy finds himself in a dark cave on a stormy night with an attractive girl." Phoenix smirks as he rummages in his pack, pulling out some food and water, enough for the both of us. "Ha ha, very funny," I say with as much sarcasm as I can muster right now. "What? I'm only telling the truth," he says with mock innocence. "Whatever," I say smiling to myself. "What is this about a prophecy anyways," I say as I sit down on the soft, grey sleeping bag set on the cool, stone ground. "Right. So there's a prophecy..."