Aeolia

13: A Strange Wood

The trio had been traveling for days. On the first day, the animal and woman sprouted wings that only lasted long enough to carry them over the two branches of the river. Then the trio trekked back through the Perfect Place, skirted the Meadow of Nightmares, and entered a new patch of evergreen woods—all with limited conversation amongst them.

     The woman felt skeptical of the rhyming animal and the unnerving—and physically impossible—way that it spoke. She wondered how the songbird felt about all this.

     It didn't matter. The animal (or, whisperer, had it said?) would talk when it wanted to. She didn't feel threatened by it, and where else did she plan on going, anyway? Aeolia meant nothing. A land of amethyst and birdsong, was that it? The picture the little gray bird had painted with its voice? It was a hopeless mystery.

     In the end, all she knew was that she never wanted to go home again.

     When she heard a word spoken in her language, she started. Her gaze darted around the woods. She felt shreds of panic flutter in her stomach.

     But no. She pressed it down. What she'd heard hadn't been menacing.

     Swordferns, snowberries, cedars, even some sitkas. She could easily identify the foliage and trees, and it all appeared normal. The animal padded beside her, ears alert. The songbird was looping through the leaves a short distance ahead.

     Suddenly, the woman felt something snag her shoulder—an elderberry. She brushed its tendril away. It took more force than she'd expected, but at last it broke off. That wasn't the end, though.

     It appeared that this forest was alive—very alive. The trees and bushes all tugged at her as she passed, sometimes giving her a "hello". They grabbed at and spoke to the animal too. This was a strange wood, but the woman wasn't frightened by it.

     Once a red huckleberry reached out a long, thin arm and clasped her leg.

     "I want a friend," it garbled in her language. The woman shook it away.

     The hike through the woods continued like this, with little voices calling out and barbs hooking onto the travelers. It was uncommonly like a busy human civilization. A maidenhair fern even cried, "Extra! Extra! Read all about it!"

     A dogwood latched onto the animal's fur. "Two for the price of one!" the shrub shouted. "Take it or leave it!" The animal flicked its tail crossly and continued, a mixture of irritation and mild amusement in its eyes.

     Nightfall came, and the clamor of voices hushed. Branches and limbs became still. Only an occasional word splintered the peaceful reverie that the evening instilled upon the woods.

     The woman, bird, and animal continued their journey in this dead quiet. They found it easier to travel faster when no snowberry or salal fingers tried to grab hold of them. But now they longed to find a place to sleep out the darkness.

     Finally, the woman spotted an ancient maple with gnarled roots covered in moss. The wide leaves fanned out above them like a dark jade sky. They curled into a crook of roots and fell asleep.

     The woman dreamed of an ivory piano in a cold black room. She hit the keys, attempting to play her favorite childhood song, the one she danced to before the soldiers came. But nothing came out. She pounded harder. No sound. Tears wavered in the corners of her eyes. She couldn't be heard.

     The bird dreamed of brilliant seas and wooden sailboats. It perched atop the mast of one, but no matter how long the boat glided east, it never got any closer to shore. And the bird couldn't fly ahead to scout.

     The animal dreamed of sylvan fjords and a long, rotting bridge stretching to infinity. It dreamed of lights in an ebony cave, where creatures roamed the darkness, never seeing the light that congregated there. The animal called out to its fellows, but they couldn't see what it did.

NOTE: I know this chapter was weird. I just like the idea of plants grabbing onto people and shouting at them.

--KingfisherBirdLady