It was as though she awoke from a miserable dream, darkened terrors and fear of what lay beyond her sight lost in the face of the cold, dim light that filtered from beyond the edge of her door and illuminated her world. Flurry rose her head from the pillow of feather she knew as comfort and looked about her comfortable room: a dresser for her things, a rocking chair, even a desk for her to write upon. But nothing more, and certainly nothing to fear.
She brought herself to a sitting position and tried to recall what had transpired so as to make her awaken with such a drowsiness. Goodness, had she not slept through the night? Why was she so tired? The flitting memory of something dreadful that had transpired in the midst of the night was not fully lost to her; shadow and darkness, the horror of her fleeing something… but no more. She had had a miserable dream that could not be recalled, it was the only explanation.
As she rose from beneath the cover to recover the nightgown that was draped across her desk chair, youthful eyes turned towards the color of flame; a candle had been lit atop her desk, perhaps her mother having slipped in and not yet to awaken her. Light- no, not light that she recalled. Darkness. She had awoken in the middle of the night from a terrible dream, had tiptoed out to the window to look out upon the woods.
She had seen one of them. No certainty, no proof in description, but she knew she had. Just on the edge of the forest, one of their kind had lurked.
The dimly lit room was of no comfort to her in this state, not now that something dreadful had been resurrected from her memories. Why not collect herself and join the awakened world? Papa and Mother would be awake, perhaps even with breakfast on the table. Auntie Twilight had promised that they would study together today and their lessons had always been so interesting. Today had promise, despite the shadow of nightmares that tried to cloud it all. There were reasons aplenty to be dressed and see the day begin.
“Well, hello! My little girl awakes!” Her father’s gregarious voice was the first thing to reach Flurry’s ears only the moment beyond her escape from the bedroom door, entering into a world of grey and pale light. There in his usual rocking chair was Shining Armor, looking upon his daughter with a light shining so brightly in his eyes that they may have well been stars. He was a giant of a man, standing head and shoulders above all who lived in their village; though the leader and often busied with the simple affairs of simple folk, he was also a magnificent blacksmith, a task that spoke to his ruddy features and great physique that saw him a specimen of incredible might. Though perhaps there were better, more magnificent men out there in the world beyond the woods that surrounded them, Flurry was always glad to rush into her Papa’s arms and feel the strength within his frame. As far as her short years were concerned, there had never been, nor would ever be, a greater man who would ever walk the earth. Whatever man she ended up marrying would have to try for a close second.
“You are late to rise,” Shining said, regarding his daughter. “Do you feel unwell?”
“Not at all. Just a poor sleep, Father,” Flurry said, giving him an extra squeeze as she relished his presence. What had worried her so last night that could withstand her Papa? “I’m sorry to make you worry.”
“I, worry? Hardly. Your mother wanted me to ask you,” Shining said. “She’s outside with the hens right now so as to gather eggs. I’d wager she would appreciate you filling in while she’s gone.”
“Oh! Right, yes,” Flurry said, and free from her father’s embrace did she go to the kitchen where the rest of their breakfast awaited. She minded little, as it was one of the small chores she was asked to accomplish. Her father had been awake long before the sun had risen, tending to the needs of both family and village alike so that their peaceful world might carry on. Though he rested in his chair and sipped upon a mug of coffee, she resented not his rest; all her little world depended upon him.
“It seems a frightful storm passed through last night,” Shining remarked. “I pray it didn’t wake you.”
She hesitated. Was it wrong to answer truthfully? “It- it did,” Flurry said, “but only for a moment. I was fine.”
What vegetables that had been brought into the house were cleaned and prepared by her hand, the stove put to work and seeing the potatoes brought to a lovely golden-brown. The sizzling sound, along with the glimmer and steam that arose to meet her eyes, was enough to arouse the maw of her belly. She had only just awoken, but her stomach demanded feeding. Ooh, she could hardly wait for her mother to return and see it all made perfect!
As though summoned, the door of their house was pushed open and through it came the slender and graceful figure of the most beautiful woman in the world- or at least she must be. Cadance was just as tall as her father, a fairness in her visage that spoke to sweetness of spirit even in the midst of such beauty. One such person could have been vain or foul, needing no wisdom nor kindness to survive- but Cadance was lovely in both mind and spirit, a provider and caretaker of all life so that it might flourish. Her loveliness came not from physical form alone, but also in how she cared for the world about her. And to Flurry, she was the perfect example of what she strived to be.
“There she is! I wondered if my candle would awaken you,” Cadance said, putting aside her basket so as to embrace her daughter. “You seemed so fretful I thought not to awake you. How are you, my love?”
“Well, thank you,” Flurry answered. “I’m sorry for not being awake earlier, I know I’m late-”
“Nonsense, your father and I started early this morning,” Cadance said, most likely offering a gracious lie. “Oh, you’ve started on breakfast! Good, now if you would pass me the spare skillet…”
It was not long before the two women saw breakfast made ready. It was not much, a meal of no momentous occasion, but it was made with care and well-crafted. Flurry had not quite reached her mother’s skill, but the vegetables for the morning were nothing to sniff at. The small family of three was soon settled and enjoying their labors before the rest of the world called for their return.
“Twilight is expecting you to be with her all day today, is that right, my dear?” Cadance inquired.
Flurry, whose mouth was full of boiled egg, had to offer only a nod in reply at first. “She wants me to study plants with her today,” she said. “That I should know how to forage, but I… she didn’t quite say what that meant.”
Shining Armor gave a billowing laugh, deep sound of mirth escaping him. “My sister,” he said, “never explains herself unless she has to. Ask her what she means when you arrive, she will make sure you understand.”
“But- what is foraging?” Flurry inquired. She tried to keep away the tremor but couldn’t quite help it; any sort of truly difficult work wasn’t something she enjoyed. “She sent me away after telling me and I don’t really know.”
“Sometimes, the things that grow in the woods make their way to us,” Cadance said gently, but only just. There was a seriousness in her visage now. “And when they go beyond the borders and creep towards our hand, we pull them from the ground. Many are valuable to us.”
“I’m… I’m going to be working along the woodline?” Flurry breathed.
“Only where Twilight deems it safe,” Shining told her. “Do not worry, your Auntie is an expert in these matters. You’ve no reason to fret.”
“But- some of the branches grow into our village-”
“And never have they used that as an excuse,” was the gentle counsel. “You need not be afraid, Flurry. You will be perfectly safe.”
The young girl nodded, but said nothing. She’d spent all of her life being told to fear the trees; that was not their realm, not a world they commanded. In this expanse of open world did they flourish and thrive, but not for a moment beyond could they hope to thrive. What lay out there was of their rule, and even the creaking of the trees was testament to their power. To be under the shade, even if the grass about her lay open…
She remembered how she had awoken in the dark. Did she- dare she mention it? “I woke up to the wind last night,” Flurry offered.
Cadance swallowed her bit of egg. “I did as well. It was not a pleasant storm last night, was it? The house groaning as though it moved and breathed!”
“I… I walked to the window,” Flurry continued. “I think I- I saw one of them last night, I think.”
Cadance and Shining became still, staring at one another. This was not the first time they had heard such words from their daughter, a spirit obsessed with the terrors that lay beyond their borders. Ever since she had been a little girl, her eyes had strayed towards the woods and seem the demons within; her childhood had spoken to guttural sounds and eyes that had wandered through her nightmares, the sworn-to silhouettes that were assuredly not human. Some of her dreams had been so vivid in her mind that she had even sworn to have breaking the treaty that kept them all alive. Surely this had to be much of the same.
To his credit, her father did not immediately offer ridicule. “Are you sure?” He asked.
Flurry was not; it had been dark, her mind had been swarmed by imagined terrors that had roamed in her lost dream only moments before. She had no reason to be certain- but still she nodded all the same. “I didn’t… I didn’t really see it, but I- felt… it. Like it was staring at me,” she finished with a mumble. It all sounded so stupid now that she’d said it aloud. “And I think I heard something howl.”
Cadance offered a smile and squeeze of the shoulder. “There are times I’ve heard them also,” she murmured. “Especially on foul nights. I do not think they like the storms, either. Perhaps they were just unhappy as you were.”
“But you did not see it, correct?” Shining asked. “It did not breach the borders for you to bear witness.”
“N- no, Papa. It didn’t,” Flurry muttered. Even after her mother’s warmth she felt so stupid!
Shining gave a series of short, small nods and fell back in his chair. “The storm likely frightened you. That is all,” he said. “Do not worry yourself with them, sweetheart. Not since the days before the Treaty have they broken our borders, and none have ever seen them in our village. You have no reason to fret.”
“But could I have seen one?” Flurry pressed. “You know… one of them moving along the edge of the woods? I would swear to what I heard.”
Shining opened his mouth to chastise the fears that struck at his daughter, but instead paused. He was not a mocking man, willing to truly lessen fears rather than abate them for a time. “It… it is truly possible that you did, yes,” he admitted; the admission earned a start from his wife. “I’ve no doubt that they patrol their border just like we do. There have been times I and others who have been placed on sentry have heard strange things, or felt them. That they might be only a hair’s breadth away.”
“Shining!” Cadance softly chided.
“Do you think they hate us, Papa?” Flurry pressed. Scared though she was, she couldn’t help be fascinated by her father’s open counsel. More often than ever had he spoken to her like a true adult rather than his child. “That they really do want to eat us, like Mr. Matheny says?”
“Flurry! Really now, you’re trying to keep yourself scared,” Cadance protested.
Shining bit his lip as he pondered how to answer. What were his own feelings, what did he believe- what did he know to be true? So much rumor and mystique had to be filtered through so as to give a tangible reply, but even that would only be guesswork at best. What he could bring to his fearful daughter was likely to be of no comfort at all. So he guessed.
“I think,” he said slowly, “that they are afraid of us as we are of them.”
Mother was the one who took care of the homestead while her father was away. Though she often played the role of his greatest and most trusted advisor, Cadance was the one and only law of the house as well as its many denizens. Her aesthetics, her choices, her instructions were irrefutable to her family. And considering what sort of work she often performed, Shining never dared to suggest thought of otherwise. The village and its care was his responsibility; their home, as well as all of its living things, were her domain to command.
For many years, Flurry had been her mother’s right hand as well as premier gofer. She had even learned how to help deliver children under her mother’s tutelage; but the days of midwife were gone for now, at least until the next generation of the village’s young souls married. Since Flurry showed no aptitude for needlework, writing, or animal husbandry, Cadance had found it unappealing to allow her daughter to simply wallow in boredom. Better to see her study under the guidance of a brilliant mind- like her auntie, for instance.
“You will remember to be polite and follow all her instructions,” Cadance instructed as Flurry settled herself to leave. “And if she gives you anything to study then you must pay it your fullest attentions. Your Auntie is making great efforts to see you become the town’s new doctor-”
“Mama, please! I know all of this, I’m not a little child any longer.” The wind was not so violent as during the night but the air retained its chill; the young woman was far more concerned in seeing herself properly dressed for a day out in the open world than listening to the guidance she already knew by heart. “Besides, Auntie just wants me to help her forage today, you heard Papa. I won’t be having to think at all.”
Cadance was perhaps not so brilliant as her sister-in-law, but she possessed a wit and intelligence all the same. “I expect Twilight would be horrified to know you wish not to think. She teaches with more than just words, you know. Watch how she does her work.”
“I always do.” Flurry paused as she tied her favorite wool scarf about her neck. “Would you like me to bring anything home from her apothecary?”
“Root of ginger, if he had any still,” Cadance said. “Your father had to use up the last of it for his tea, and you know how he aches.”
“I’ll be sure to bring some,” and the young woman gave her mother a kiss on the cheek as farewell. “Good-bye!”
Flurry knew not her grandparents, long having disappeared from her world before she had even been born into it. The only living relative she had beyond her parents was her Auntie Twilight, a lovely creature blessed with a brilliance that surely would benefit those who dwelt beyond their wooded realm. She was perhaps not the most beautiful, but in her did Flurry see a loveliness, and a lively happiness that came whenever knew knowledge was discovered, or come to be known in minds that were not her own. Having come to be under her tutelage, the young girl knew her aunt to be a nurturing and guiding spirit on any and all matters, to include what might dwell in the woods. The few years she’d spent beneath Twilight’s wing had been put to excellent use.
“Take a look at these greens in my hand.” Twilight’s voice was more somber when she was being serious, a depth of tone only found when she intended for her pupil to pay the utmost attentions. “This is cinchona. It’s a potent herb that your mother and I have used in medicinal concoctions more than once. Would you care to guess at what it does?”
Flurry knew not the answer, but it was not the first time her Auntie had given her the allowance of making a guess. Sometimes what was wanted was not an answer but instead a logical thought; what would herbs do to benefit her people, and how? What ailments did they fight against most, what struggles did they have? Knowing what her village needed was just as important as knowing what to fight against; being a well-stock apothecary was crucial for a small village.
In this instance, however, Flurry could only suppose a guess. “It…” Her mind sorted through the various ailments she herself had struggled against. “Fever, maybe? It’s always misery for people to fight against.”
It was a guess, but one that hit the mark; Twilight’s eyes were aglow at the answer along with her smile. “That’s right! A solid thought,” she remarked. “It may be useful as an herb, but its bark is far more potent to help against chills that come with the worst of fevers. This is one such bulb you and I will scour for today, especially if the New Moon does not yield us new bark to use.”
Of course. The New Moon offering, given by the woodland dwellers without fail. More often than not what they offered was supple meat, wild game that would supply the village with full stomachs. But they seemed themselves to know medicinal properties also, offering the firstfruits of the woods for those what would need it. Beyond anything, Twilight valued these supplies.
“Now… what is this?” In her hands did Twilight hold a series of miniscule green bulbs, a single stamen splitting off to showcase a number of tiny orbs. It as though a flower had bloomed yet not bloomed, offering a strangely lovely view of an unborn thing that had not truly known life.
But for Flurry, this made it all the more identifiable. “That’s angelica,” she proclaimed. “Mama used it upon me when I struggle to breathe at night. It does wonders.”
“Indeed it does. Those who struggle to breathe because of colds and other grasses adore angelica,” Twilight said, and in her hands did she clutch the herb as though a precious item. “Many of the young will need this to endure this year, lest disease break out. Today, this is our most important item of which we seek. You promise me to seek it out?”
“Of course!” Flurry assured her. The very idea that her Auntie doubted her-! “Is this all we will look for today?”
“For the morning, yes,” Twilight answered. She rose tall and strong above the blades of grass about her home, looking out to the edges of the borderland that surrounded their world. Upon her form there came a seriousness, a worry; the part of their sphere was not a truly safe thing, so close to the finest line of world that lay between them and those beyond. It was not the most serene space to be. “After a meal, I wish for you to look through some of the tinctures I have made recently. It is necessary that you understand who they are made for, and why. Someday, the aches and pains of this village will rely on you.”
“Like how they rely on you?” Flurry asked. “Or… how they rely on Papa?”
Twilight bit her lip. It wasn’t a cruel question, not a mocking thing. Flurry was the daughter of the village leader while currently under the tutelage of the villahge apothecary; a unique place to be in that known had known before. Twilight’s parents had taught her to be brilliant, not to be a leader- Shining had been taught how to lead, not to bear great knowledge. Flurry was breaking the mold in ways none had yet done so before.
“For now… both, I suppose,” Twilight said, eventually giving a smile to her youthful companion. “Come, we have a long morning ahead of us. Let us be dutiful while the sun still shines upon us!”
And so they did. Taking to the southeastern border of the village, Flurry and Twilight soon found themselves to be in a rare realm of minimal protection, whether it be by Shining’s lack of foresight or a strange coincidence they knew not. The brilliance of greenery lay before the, unpicked and unmanned, waiting for their hands to pilfer through and find what herbs could be put to use. For though Flurry had been gifted new knowledge upon which to use, she knew that there lay far more than just two herbs that could be made useful; what knowledge her aunt had gifted to her was to be put to use. For most of the morning her back was bent, leering down upon the world and looking for familiar blades that would alert her to useful concoctions.
She knew what she did now was important; it would benefit her people greatly, especially if it was put into concoctions and set to store until a time of need. But heaven knew how much her back ached. What she looked for did not grow tall! Flurry was half a person through her works alongside her Auntie, taller only more than the smallest child and in more pain than they could understand. Were it not for the benefits of their work, she might complain greatly.
At least, more than she did now.
“Do you always find yourself like this?” Flurry asked, rising to her tallest and massaging the small of her back. “How are you not always hunched over, Auntie?”
“Do you need a rest?” Rather than stoop bent, Twilight had shuffled along on her knees through the greenery in search of familiar leaves, allowing the thick hem of her skirt to take the punishment rather than her spine. “It is perfectly alright if you need one. I won’t be mad.”
“I… would, yes,” Flurry admitted, and down into the meadow did she plop. Goodness, for not having done much, she was tired! “How do you remain so comfortable?”
Twilight looked about her world, seeking the eyes of others. When none were found to be in sight, up did the long hem of her dress rise to showcase thick plates of bark about her knees like guards. “They keep me from feeling the earth beneath,” she explained to her niece. “So much of my world is spent stooped low. When I began this rather than being bent over, I found it better for me. I’ll show you how to make them, if we get any supplies come New Moon.”
“How long did it take you to make?” Flurry asked. Her back ached in envy just at the sight of them; how cruel it was for her Auntie to not say a word of them!
“Years. Almost as long as you have been alive,” Twilight explained, making her young companion’s displeasure disappear in an instant. “Even now they wear down, and will soon need to be discarded. But so much better are they than the ground!”
“I do not doubt it,” Flurry said, still feeling the ache of where knees had been put to earth, or where her spine had been forced to stoop low. How miserable this work was! For her Aunt to have borne this trouble for many years was something to admire. “How did you know to make them?”
“I didn’t,” Twilight replied. “It was a guess, if I must be honest. I took fragments of bark and set them together on a metal sheet, and… after that, I used sap. And then just a tinge of heat to fuse the pieces together. I was not even sure it would work.”
She admired her. Twilight was not the leader her father was, not the sweetness of spirit that embodied her mother, but she was brilliant. A thinker constantly in desire of creating a new invention, to add to the betterment of her people. She was even willing to turn away from her work as the town apothecary and see that her niece was made to nurture and grow. She could just have been an aid to her work, not meant as a teammate; Flurry respected that sort of patience and care, and thus the two held a special sort of relationship that her mother and father could not possess.
Her mind flickered with the thoughts of last night; of wind and howling, the feeling of eyes upon her. It was still a cloudy day out, but the world was filled with pale light that was only kept somber by the sheet of grey above. Why did Flurry’s neck prickle? She felt something invisible burn against her back for a moment, then two more- then heading on.
Perhaps it had shown in her countenance, for Twilight’s serene expression turned to her niece and saw cause for concern. “Is something the matter?” She asked.
“I felt…” What she felt was beyond her knowledge, if truth be told. It could only be a guess, and one she would never be able to confirm. But then again, was that true? “Auntie, has- I would like to ask something of you.”
“Of course,” the brilliant woman said, and in her features was a new shrewdness. “This has something to do with them, doesn’t it?”
The subject of those within the woods could be occasionally difficult when spoken aloud at home. Shining dealt with them as they were, something beyond their reckoning and an invisible force; the forest dwellers were never to be seen, always to be believed in, and kept at arm’s distance. Cadance dealt with them as though a child’s nightmares, fearful and best left forgotten; they were not to enter their world, nor would they ever have the right and capability of it. But Twilight, just like her, held a curiosity about them. Believed them to be more than just mere boogeymen.
“I think I heard one last night,” Flurry admitted. Out in the open space of the field, beneath so much clear sky and light, the young girl wondered if her nightmare had borne the sound out from her imaginings rather than anything genuine. “I… woke up from a dream about being in the woods, and… thought I heard it. And that one saw me in my room. All the way from the woods.”
Twilight pursed her lips, pondering the statement with a deference it was not due. “They certainly keep watch of us,” she said. “For they know to bring their offerings every New Moon. They aren’t stupid, whatever they are.”
“Could I have seen one, then?” Flurry asked. “I mean, I didn’t… I didn’t really see it, but I felt like it was looking back at me. And I heard something howling, even though it was-” she stopped. “I probably just heard the wind, didn’t I?”
Twilight made a face, but did not mock her niece’s fretting as something fictitious. “They have been heard before. I have heard them calling out more than once,” she said. “Such a loud, lonely sound, I think… it sorrows me to hear it.”
A strange thing to say. Twilight looked upon them now as almost something to be pitied rather than feared, a being of tragedy and grief. Flurry had never actually considered that potential reality. “Do- do you think they’re not monsters?”
“I… do not know what they are,” was the answer. “Certainly not human, I know that. Those that have heard them- some beasts of some kind. Very intelligent ones. But as to what they are, I can only guess. But I think they suffer. And struggle, rather like we do.”
“Has-” this was often the forbidden question, asked only once at home and then never again. “Has anyone ever seen one? Truly seen one?”
Twilight gave a shake of her head; small, terse, speaking to a sudden anxiety. “Only those who have ever dared to breach their borders have looked upon their faces,” she murmured. “And I hope your grandfather’s story ensures such a thing never happens again.”
A rare mention of Night Light. The grandfather she had never known, his story only told her once by her mother, left unfinished by the demands of her father. He had been grieving over the loss of his wife to sudden illness, something he had deemed curable. And for some reason, he had dared to enter the woods-!
“Why did he go do it?” Flurry asked, her voice thin and hoarse. “What about Grandmama was-”
“Don’t!” Twilight’s command struck swift, a fierceness within it as her eyes slammed shut to blot out the bight of memory. She had been there that fateful night, heard the ravings of her furious father, and… and all that had come after. “We speak not of it.”
“Auntie, please, I want to know,” Flurry insisted, daring to push upon the subject once more. She was told so little of her people’s clashes with the woodland rulers, and one story that was of her blood was kept hidden from her. Surely she was deserving of the truth now, on the cusp of true womanhood! “Father isn’t here, surely you can tell me a little about-”
“It is not your father’s commands that bind me, Flurry.” Twilight spoke with force, with heaviness in each syllable; her face, sharp with both laughter and knowledge, was now taught with emotion and the rush of remembered terror. “There are some things that the mind cannot forget, no matter how desperately one might wish it. Do not ask me to suffer them again, not when I can still avoid them.”
Oh. Flurry bit her lip as she realized her transgression. “I- Auntie, I’m sorry, I-” What could she say? Her grandfather had been the last to ever enter the woods and he had not returned, the penalty of breaching the border having befallen him. How could one so young, arriving long after that memory, hope to understand just what it would have been like to see such a thing transpire? The young girl tried to conjure a similarity in her mind: her father striding into the woods with a blade in hand, grieving over the loss of her mother- and she would be just behind him, begging for him not to enter and be lost to her, because how deeply did daughter love her father! And just as soon as his form was swallowed up by the black shadows of the trees, a terrible sound of creaking branches and snarling things!
“I’m sorry.”
“You are forgiven,” Twilight replied, expression still wounded though her voice had lost its ferocity. “I know… I understand your desire to know more about our world, Flurry. I really do. But even my imaginings of their actions are aware to me of being just that. Do not allow your folly to hope for their mercy; they do not know the meaning of the word.”
She had wished to say something worthwhile; her Auntie was an intelligent thing, not prone to an escalation of any emotion that could hope to persuade her away from a sensible thought. To become a mixture of her father and aunt was something extremely worthy of being, an entwining of mind and world that would see her people made all the more happy. And yet here her aunt sat, envisioning a terror that one so young could not comprehend. In her insolence, her willful desire to understand all the better, she had done harm instead.
“I- Mama asked me to request some things from you,” Flurry said. Auntie was struggling against horrific memory, still trapped within the sound and feeling of a place and time so dangerous that she could not always retrieve herself from them. “She asked for some ginger root, to- to help with Papa’s stomach.”
“Of course,” Twilight said, coming back to light from the depths of her cold remembrance. “I have some, always set aside for him. I know how he gets. But if you want to help me find any else while we are out here, it will not hurt to have more set aside. You recall what it looks like, correct?”
“I do.” The memory of that strangely wrapped bulb was one she had always found odd in shape, as well as its flower that was unappealing to her eye, akin to the shape of a strange animal with fangs. “Shall we get started again?”
“So long as you do not wish for more rest…”
Flurry, eager to leave behind this moment of failure she had created, was quick on her feet.
The rest of their morning went on much of the same, hunched over or shuffling along so as to pull free the greens they sought. Clean fingers were made well and truly dirty by stains of grass and earth, living things pressed fast upon skin and seeing it that pale-pink turned wild with color. Flurry occasionally glanced over at her aunt to see what emotion was borne upon her face; were there still remnants of that terror still evident? She loved Twilight immensely. To put her mood into something sorrowful for the rest of the day was a horrid thing to accomplish. Why had she been so intent on forcing her to remember the day she had lost her father? Why would anyone wish to see that done? Glad was she of being occupied with such menial labor, or else her youthful mind might tear her to bits. The mortification was something that felt like it would last.
Her mission today was to be of assistance- at least for the rest of the day, to help make up for her blunder. Flurry allowed no pain to make her cease, intent on finding anything worthwhile that would aid her home. An occasional sprout would befall her eye and register past teachings; if its stock was running low in Twilight’s stores, she was glad to add it to her basket. And for her father she sought ginger root. How difficult it was to uproot, too! A thick, sturdy thing that struggled to relinquish itself from the earth, making Flurry work for every ounce she pulled. One or two even required her companion’s aid in seeing the deed done.
“I have not come to this corner of the village in quite a while,” Twilight said. A particularly sturdy root had forced the two of them to work in tandem, Twilight’s greater strength put to exertion as Flurry tried to dig about the plant as best she could. What now sat in their grasp was marvelous. “I try to… let the world replenish itself. Tend too much to one area, it struggles to grow back so fiercely. I plant seeds here and there to see the cycle repeat, then let them be. What grows, grows strong.”
“Is there no room in your garden for them?” Flurry asked. She had seen Twilight’s greenery, how rich it was in all manner of life. “Surely you could always add to it.”
“Only the most valuable of herbs are kept there. And even then I must let the soil rest from labor for a time. If I were to drink the earth of its life…” Twilight bit her lip. “I cannot allow it to happen, not even once.”
An understandable reasoning, but Flurry wondered to herself if she should begin an herb garden of her own. Maybe just of ginger for Papa, so that she wouldn’t have to struggle against these wild things ever again.
As Twilight carried on in her work, so she carried on in her pruning. There was still much available to her, keeping Flurry bound to earth and ever in search of the next prize. A particularly large bulb came into view, growing just a few inches away from a thick bush of holly that threatened to claim the root. Goodness, the size of it! How it had managed to become so heady was a marvel considering the shadow it dwelt in. So it will have grown deep, Flurry thought ruefully.
Her gloomy prediction was found to be true; despite her mightiest efforts to see the whole plant uprooted, far more of the vegetation remained below ground rather than above it; some of the wretched thing’s roots carried on even beneath the shrub’s leaves, if not beyond even that. Perhaps rather than taking it all, she would simply have to claim what she could. But Twilight held the trowel, as well as the knife. “Auntie, I have more ginger!” Flurry called out, seeing her kin some yards behind her. “Would you please bring me the knife? This one is quite large.”
“What was that?” Twilight’s head had been bowed, working close to the soil and keeping her ears filled with other sounds.
“I said-” Flurry paused. Where had her roaming taken her, exactly? She and Twilight had been working together in the open field, a portion of their land that was rather free of large greenery of any kind. There hadn’t been a tree, or even a bush in sight. Except now there was something strong and growing right in front of her, a shrub that was- was part of…
Flurry let her eyes trail back to the holly, sharp leaves marked by hard berries of red. And just behind it loomed a great pine, a tall spire of green that stood as one amongst the many trees beside it. A part of the forest’s border that now loomed over her as she knelt before its very edge.
The young girl’s breaths escaped her lips in small, shuddering breaths. She hadn’t meant to come so close, it had been an accident. Her head kept down, she seeking only things of the soil and constantly moving towards the next one in front of her. She hadn’t realized where she was going! The wind did not blow so hard, but still could she hear the faint sound of branches rustling, swaying against one another to push pine against leaf, bark of branch straining and groaning. Flurry decided she would go get Twilight’s knife herself-
Crunch. Dried leaves that must mark the forest floor just beyond were being put to life in movement, pressure seeing them crackle.
Perhaps it is the wind moving them.
The holly rustled, the wind moved from behind her and played with the strength of her ears. More crackling came from the forest, more shuffling of long-lost green. But when the dance of leaves stopped, a scraping sound that was of moving soil came to take its place, quick and fiercer than what human tools could accomplish-
Flurry felt the ginger root in her hands suddenly become taut, the sound of it ripped from the earth so quiet and yet unmistakable. Instinct prompted her to react, and so her hand clutched to the prize that rested in her palms-
A small pull from the other side before the tension moved no longer. The root was dropped and allowed to fall limp, and what followed in its wake was the sound of a deep growl.
She couldn’t move. It was just out of sight, obscured by the leaves and life of the forest, kept apart only by the mere few inches of shrubbery that marked the finite line between them. In her heart was a stark, wildly blowing cold that bit both heart and mind. Flurry couldn’t see what lay on the other side, imagination running wild at what could continue to make such a sound. So close, close enough to feel it reverberate in her ears and know the anger within it! And still she couldn’t move-!
“Oh, so you found more ginger!” Twilight’s voice came from somewhere behind her. Perhaps being unsatisfied with not knowing her niece’s query, she had come to check upon the younger woman see what was amiss. “If it is too large, we will have to cut it apart bit by-”
The low growl became a wild snarl. The thick branches of trees shivered as something pressed up from beneath them and set them to straining. The anger that had been within the great sound before was now something incensed, beyond fury at the sight of this newcomer that had dare to step so close.
Twilight’s footsteps halted. Flurry, still on her knees and not daring to raise her head upwards, would not move from her place beside the forest. Pulsating heartbeat was making her shiver, lump in her throat growing larger with each quick breath.
“Flurry, drop the ginger root. Crawl backwards, right to me,” Twilight commanded, her voice forced into a steely calm. “Do not move your head, do not do anything else but crawl.”
Crawl? How could she crawl? And how far back? Flurry’s limbs struggled to obey the words she had been given, fingers still pressed so tight around the plant that the notches of it dug into her palm. All that her sense would allow her to know was the sound of that thunderous snarl-
“Come on, Flurry, you can do it. I’m only a few feet behind you. Just keep your head down, crawl. Crawl.”
If she was supposed to obey in haste, Flurry could not summon the ability to do so. Quivering hands set the root down upon the earth and she took her first effort to shuffle backwards. The sound of what lay in the forest was all-consuming to her, each little shirking movement she made the one she feared would be what saw the depths reach out and claim her life. what sort of monstrosity could make that sound? The sound of heated, furious breath as it escaped from the depths of a cavernous mouth, lined with teeth of iron that would surely pierce through her flesh with ease. Its violence rang in her ears, overpowering her senses. Oh, how it demanded that she give life to her own voice, it demanded she cry out-
A grasping about her waist and she was pulled back-
“It’s me!” Twilight whispered fiercely in her ear as her niece gave a strangled shriek. The two fell back upon the grass, away from the leering edge of the forest that had seemed to lurch forward and beckon for its denizen to reach out-
The snarl continued and again the branches of the trees did rustle, the presence that had pressed against them lessening and allowing them to return to shape-
Sharp eyes saw how the roots trailed off into the thick foliage, and a sharper mind understood what had transpired. “She did not mean to steal from you!” Twilight said, rising from the grass so that she might kneel in supplication to what lay just in the shadows, hands raised as though that might belay its wrath. “Its bulb grew on our side of the border, she knew not how far it grew.”
The snarl ceased and all life of the forest stopped.
Twilight hesitated. Had- had it actually listened to her words? Was it even still there, had it already run off- or had this whole encounter been nothing more than a pair of minds somehow deceiving themselves? Never had there been two worlds so close together, on the verge of a real encounter. “Please," she continued, deciding that it would be best to continue this diplomacy. “She meant no harm, I mean you no harm. Take it, if you need it, and leave us in peace.”
Silence seemed to reign for an eternity. Then from the woods came a grunting, muffled sort of bark and the ginger plant was torn from its place before the holly bush and made to disappear into the woods. There was a great rustling of leaves and the sound of inhuman footfalls that met their ears, moving off out into the distance and beyond what their senses could tell them.
The two women did not move from where they were. Twilight allowed a few short gasps to pass her lips as even her sense of disbelief had nearly been shattered, wide eyes staring out into the trees as though still seeing what had nearly came to meet their eyes. When her mind could at last believe that the danger had passed, down on all fours did she fall, a rasp of relief echoing from her. “Oh my goodness,” she managed to sputter, “That was- ohmygosh, Flurry! Are you alright?”
Was she alright? Flurry didn’t know if she wanted to scream again or instead cry. She could still feel that snarl echo through her form, still able to make her heart clamor violently against her breast. Only a few inches of undergrowth and the care of her aunt had been able prevent her from being felled by an incredible, indescribable violence.
“You are safe. You are not harmed.” Twilight brought her niece to a sitting position and examined her, checking her over so that her statement might be proven true. “The moment has passed, it… it’s gone. I promise.”
“It was right there.” Flurry spoke as though she could not still believe what had transpired. “It was right there!” Mind went wild with the thought of what nearly had been, how tooth and claw would have savaged at her throat and robbed her of life in a painful instant. Speech was born of terror rather than thought.
“And now it has left us,” Twilight said. A half-glance over her shoulder at the woods that still loomed over them, still dwelt to near for either of them to be comforted. “We shall go to my house. Drink tea until you feel at ease again. Does that sound agreeable?”
She tried to answer, but words were strangled by the resurgence of that miserable lump in her throat; eyes stung and vision turned blurred as Flurry eventually gave up and offered a nod instead.
“You are safe,” Twilight said, her voice more tranquil as she gave the younger woman an embrace. “You are safe with your Auntie. Come on, on your feet. We can be done for the day.”
Slow to rise on still-shivering limbs, Flurry was guided away from the borderline by the tending hand of her kindred, back to their village and not once did she dare to look back in case it still leered at her.
Author's Note
It's a difficult genre to write. Wonder how I'll do, or if I'll even be able to be satisfied with the result.
Keep reading, I guess.
She was guided on from that unsanctified place on legs still trembling, Twilight clutching her so tightly that it may as well have been the grasp of the beast that had threatened her. What part of her that was not still primal registered the gesture as both protective and fearful; Twilight was a wondrous aunt, but there were few things in this world she feared more than her brother’s wrath. Flurry would not be let out of her sight until she was back in sight of her father.
“There we are… raise your head, you see?” Twilight beckoned, her voice trying to carry a softened tone that the edge within would not allow. “There is my home. I’ll make us a cup of tea and have things all better, don’t you worry.”
Flurry gave a nod- wait, did she? Her body was shivering as though in the bite of winter, still imagining that forest border and all the ways it could have gone wrong. What if the fell being on the other side had decided to take her accidental theft as a true trespass? She could see its hulking, shadowed form creaking out from the shadows and lunging towards her; she could see it ripping apart Auntie before settling its jaws upon her flesh and seeing limb ripped away from body in a slow, bloodied display of might and hate…
“Inside. Now, take a seat.” Twilight’s home was not hospitable to her niece at the moment; filled to the brim with herbs and concoctions borne from earth and herb, the whole of her home stank of forest. Not at all a comforting scent, all things considered. But all the same did Twilight see Flurry settled on a misshapen old chair near the fireplace, at last releasing the younger girl from her grip so that she might see the kettle made ready. “Now… what sort of tea sounds nice? Chamomile with some honey, or ging-” Twilight paused and pulled a face. “... Chamomile will be fine.”
Flurry watched without seeing as her aunt put fresh water to boil just above the small fire that remained in the fireplace, seeing to the stoking and brimming of flames. Often she had watched her teacher bemoan such a means, decrying the use of an open flame as a poor means by which to boil tea water. Twilight claimed to have an invention that was far superior in brewing a better batch, but also condemned its slower pace in producing a useful batch; in such a case as this, the swifter, hotter fires would make do. Before much time had passed, the two women had a pair of steaming mugs before them, a small catch of flowers having gifted them a sweet, almost honeyed scent that was made to soothe the soul. The flowing scent of the flower filled the tightly packed kitchen that was overwhelmed with the scent of far too many herbs and poultices, enough greenery and tree limbs to make one feel like they really were still in the woods-
With a shaky hand, young Flurry reached out for her tea and tried to drink. The result was a hot excess of boiling water down her throat that offered no more comfort than her recent terror.
“Take a breath, Flurry,” Twilight counseled, the softness of her voice not quite matching the harrowed expression on her face. “I know, it was quite a scare; it was for me also. But let’s just take a moment. Breathe in your tea… drink deep of its scent. Then take a nice, slow sip.”
Flurry could still imagine the unknown specter on the other side of her village’s border, see how its misshapen hand would reach out from beyond the brush and drag her away to its lair. She could see how sharp claws would reach deep into her body and tear through sinew, how she would be eaten alive and allowed to scream until her heart stopped. Yet the here and now beckoned for her, so she brought the mug of steamy brew to her nostrils so that she could soak in its floral comfort. There it was, the strange smell that almost made her think of apples- and the honey she’d added to the mixture. Chamomile, the soothing flower; she remembered the first time having this as a young girl, helping her to sleep after a particularly awful nightmare. How it had made her think of the meadows just beyond the village center, and how she would go there to play with her friends. A scent of spring, of life and joy…
With a hand not so shaky any longer, Flurry was able to take a more controlled sip of her tea and not allow it to scald her throat. She let it soak in rather than burn, let her heartbeat slow… “Ah…” Though the memory was still terrifyingly fresh, the young girl found herself beginning to believe that what she had witnessed would not seek her out any longer. It was over.
Twilight looked over at her from across the table and gave a smile. “There. You see? Nothing so frightening that a little tea can’t fix,” she said warmly. “I almost wish I’d used my little tea candle. It’s quite a sight; I’ll have to show you how it works sometime.”
“… Thank you, Auntie,” Flurry muttered. “I’m sorry. For… messing everything up.”
Twilight looked upon her niece in confusion. “And what on earth did you do that requires an apology?” She asked. “It was hardly your fault. And I would not say it was the fault of whatever lay across on the other side; sometimes, things are simply an accident. You couldn’t have known the root would trail so far across the forest border, and it couldn’t have known that the bulb grew in our lands.”
Flurry nodded and returned to her tea, but now her mind was bent back towards panicking. It had been so close to a disaster, one of her own making. How had she managed to escape such a fate? “It was so close… I’ve never come so close before! If- if I looked up, I would have seen it in the gaps between the bushes and the trees-!” The young girl gave a shudder and took to her mug. “I’ve never… ever heard anything sound like that.”
“Never you mind about it,” Twilight said, shushing her youthful companion’s fears before they could begin to grow strong yet again. “You’ve no reason to be ashamed, nor fearful of reprisal. Did you not notice how it was willing to listen to me once I spoke to it? The beast could be reasoned with and it discerned that you truly were innocent. It was diplomacy, not a dispute.”
“But what if it had-” She dared not think of what would have transpired had the thing decided to breach the border. “I didn’t know they were really so close…” Her eyes, once settled on her aunt’s sober visage, turned away to look out through the window to where the forest lurked. Maybe she would be unlucky to catch sight of another one again and cap off this horrifying day. “It sounded so angry.”
“And then it listened to me, Flurry,” Twilight reminded her. “It heard my words and understood them. It knew not to hate you. You’ve no reason to fret any longer.” Her hand reached out from its place on the table to give Flurry’s a squeeze; rough and knotted from years of herbcrafting, enough to be uncomfortable upon youthful skin. “Breathe, and worry not. What you’ve done caused no harm, to anyone. It is alright.”
Was it? Flurry followed in her father’s instructions and tried to see her mind settled: she was in her Aunt Twilight’s kitchen, drinking tea. She was not in the forest, the forest dweller had not harmed her, and it seemingly had listened to her aunt’s words before taking the ginger root away into the forest for itself. Did she have reason to feel vulnerable or afraid truly? The answer seemed to be no. A bit more confident in her safety, Flurry took a headier sip.
“… Auntie?” Flurry asked.
“Mhm?”
“Have-” She hesitated, worrying the query might resurrect her terror. “Have you ever… seen one? One of them?”
Twilight didn’t immediately answer, actually seeming to take time and digest the thought. “I’m not sure,” she eventually revealed. “I might have, one day. A long time ago, actually when I was right about your age.” She paused at that remark to scrutinize her own words for a moment, as though something new had revealed itself in that information. “I wonder if there’s a reason for that… they seemed more aggressive when I was about your age, too. Like they were more willing to move along the woodline, make themselves known.”
“Why would they do that? That doesn’t make any sense, we don’t ever dare to go in there. Save for-” She bit her lip before her grandfather’s name could spill from it. Heaven above knew how badly she wanted to.
Twilight wondered at the query and again took her time before speaking. So much guesswork about something she’d never truly encountered, their one meeting that ever bound their worlds together a complete mystery; the village would leave an offering every sunrise of the New Moon, and they would leave behind an offering every moonrise. What could she possibly go on? “They… might be on the same birth cycle as us,” she offered hesitantly. “I don’t think they’re immortal or anything, so perhaps their young are just as curious about our village as I was of their forest. Youthful bravery seeing the lines blur just a little bit.”
“Auntie, what did-” her tongue so dearly wished to inquire as to the fate of her grandparents, but still she could not bring herself to let it be said. Instead, she opted for asking, “What did you see?”
“A pair of eyes. I think. Only a reflection as my torch flickered about,” Twilight answered. “I’d decided to be especially- well, stupid. I followed to where your grandfather had entered the woods, thinking that maybe I would find some last trinket of him. Remains that they had left behind. And as I was looking about to search the borders, the torch in my hand offered a reflection on something. A flash of color, and then nothing.” The brilliant woman gave a shudder and a laugh. “I had never known that one could be so frightened that you couldn’t utter a sound. I dropped my torch, ran back to your father’s house, and didn’t dare sleep.”
It was chilling, yet the story fascinated her. To come so close, to actually be sure you’d seen physical form of the denizens that surrounded their world. Flurry knew it would have chilled her bones to no end to witness such an encounter, just as today had, but she couldn’t help but wonder as to what just might…
“Did you ever see one again?” Flurry asked.
Twilight shook her head. “Not seen, not heard, not anything,” she answered. “Not until today.” For a time, the two women carried on sipping at their steaming tea and letting the vicious chill of their brief meeting with their woodland enemies fade away in the heat. It was just outside, not so terribly far away, but here they were safe. Four walls, a comforting fire, and warm brew to sate the spirit within. It was enough to make the worst of the memory lose its bite.
After Flurry had finished her own mug of chamomile, Twilight stood to her feet and took a quick stretch. “I will see you home. I want to speak with your father about this, he will need to know there was an incident.”
Flurry nodded even though she felt a sinking pit in her stomach. It was her fault the whole thing had transpired in the first place, and now that information was going to have to be handed over to the one who would be the most concerned –and most furious- about the matter. How many of the village boys had he punished throughout the years for daring to tempt the forest’s guardians? A public display, a reminder of far more dire consequences-
“He will not punish you. What happened wasn’t your fault; there was no way you could have known that the root grew so far into the woods,” Twilight said, perhaps noticing her niece’s new disquiet. “We allowed a concession to help ease what it saw as a transgression. That should be enough to sate them. But your father should know it happened in the first place.”
The exit from the sanctuary that was Twilight’s home only could offer discomfort; the moment Flurry walked out from beneath its shelter and walls, all she could see were the woods that surrounded her village home. What terror that had been laid to rest in her heart was resurrected the moment her eyes fell upon the bark and greenery, the borderlands that spoke to the world beyond. Surely they did not still look upon her now, right? Why would they be so eager to deal death to her form after such an infraction? But what she saw out there were the shifting, moving shapes of many things beneath the trees, eyes upon her fragile flesh and eager to draw blood; try as she might to rationalize her thoughts, all she could do was shiver beneath the sun- and be glad that Twilight was there beside her as she walked.
“Don’t think about it,” Twilight murmured softly, a hand on Flurry’s shoulder and again predicting the musings of her young niece. “You’ve no reason to worry, you’re out in the middle of the open and did nothing wrong. Why should you feel anything but safe?”
It was a rational response, one that didn’t amount to much until the two of them were safely at the threshold of familiar dwellings; never before had her home ever looked so appealing, so safe. Flurry saw the chickens that gave her eggs, the walls that gave her shelter, and –most importantly- heard the voices that she knew meant the two best people she could know. If her father and mother were nearby, then what on earth could hope to harm here? It was more than enough to soothe her pounding heart.
“… Yes, I understand Mr. Matherson is worried about his sheep, but I hardly know what he expects me to do about their grazing space,” Shining said, his words echoing from around the house and to meet his daughter’s ears. “It’s always been up to him to do best with the herds, especially with what we have. I cannot offer him more land than what the village provides, and I certainly will not take an axe to the border.”
Flurry felt a smile come to her face when she saw her father speaking with Mr. Matherson’s son, a man about twenty years her senior and unpleasant as bile. Yet again she found her father to be the reasonable diplomat when it came to words, unfazed by a peer’s daunting profile and still willing to hold his ground. “Yes, he needs to keep the herd in check. I completely understand; but so does every other herder and shepherd in the village, yet he is the only one who ever complains that he has not enough room for his herd to graze. What makes his sheep so special that they require more than everyone else?”
“Brother, a word,” Twilight called, interrupting the conversation like her niece dared not, a hand waved in greeting though her visage remained grim. “As soon as you can, please.”
“Twilight- and Flurry! You two are back earlier than expected, I didn’t think I would see you until sunset,” Shining said, his tone friendly though his eyes held confusion. “Cadance is out with the hens gathering eggs, but we have the evening meal being made ready also, would you stay for a spell and-”
“We need to talk,” Twilight said politely though quite firmly, her eyes hard as stone and fixated on her brother. “Now.”
The warmth that Flurry always knew to reside in her home evaporated in an instance, a place of soft color turning cold. Shining knew his sister to not be one who would overreact like the young girl she once was or behave childishly. If she spoke plainly, there was grim reason behind it. “Master Matheson, if you would be so kind to excuse yourself,” he said cordially, though his gaze was a frosty thing when it settled upon his daughter.
Despite believing full well it was her fault, Flurry couldn’t help but feel a little indignant. He really was that keen on blaming her for something having gone afoul?
When Mstr. Matheson had properly departed and the door was closed behind him, Shining’s pleasant façade dissipated in an instant, pleasant features turned dreadfully grim. “What has been done?” He asked of his sister, though his gaze still turned to settle upon his daughter.
Twilight knew her brother well, only Cadance being her superior in the subject. “Shining, she’s innocent in this. Nothing that transpired is because of Flurry’s doing,” she insisted. “Something happened to her- and before you try to worry, she is fine.”
The man gave a deepened sigh, relief etched into his features as the breath escaped his lungs. “Then, it would seem, I owe my daughter an apology for the assumption,” he said, turning to Flurry and giving her a small smile. “Forgive your old father, my dearest,” he said. “I am too quick to assume you are apt to be as foolish as I once was… are you well? Unharmed?”
She couldn’t keep the pricklings of anger quite fully away, but it was more than her fire-fueled mind had anticipated. “I’m- fine, Father,” she said. “Just a bit shaken up. We encountered-” The memory came back, and with it all the terror and weight that the moment itself had borne. In the safety that her father provided, she felt more akin to a small girl than her teenage self felt proud to admit, prickings of what were likely tears on the edge of her eyes. Just the smallest amount of brush and thicket had separated her from a disaster…
Arms came about her in the strongest, gentlest embrace she knew, clouded vision becoming further obscured as the strong figure of her father came about her. “You’re safe, right here,” he shushed, coming to her aid before the worst could envelop her mind. “Don’t let the memory frighten you any longer.”
She breathed in his scent, the familiar tang of sweat, wood, and ink that she knew to be his alone. What emotions that raced through her were strong, but far stronger was the great strength of her father; Flurry allowed herself to exhale and be at peace. “… I’m sorry, Father,” she said weakly. “I promise it was an accident.”
“And I’ve no doubt,” Shining assured her. “Your mother is outside with the chickens, would you go fetch her? She’ll need to hear what your Auntie has to say.”
The orders were good medicine to her nerves and she hastened to obey, fetching her mother from outside so that she might come hither to heed Twilight’s news. Though she wasn’t invited into the counsel, Flurry did what all young folk do when their parents were speaking secretly and eavesdropped at the door. Frayed though her nerves were, whatever they were speaking about was worth listening to.
“… Surely it was just a random incident, correct?” Flurry heard her mother say, a more fretful tone to her voice than she’d expected. Since when was she this nervous about them? “The most outlandish of chances saw them at the same part of the border at the same time. You both don’t think it was intentional.”
“If it were an isolated incident then I would believe it,” Shining said. The sound of his voice made young Flurry shudder; he was scraggly and aged, weighed down by burdens that he alone could carry. “But this is… this is the third encounter this season, and the weather has only just begun to turn. That makes for over a dozen incidents that have transpired along the border this year. Nothing openly hostile yet, but still aggressive.”
“Over a dozen-?” Cadance gasped. “But why- I was never told of this!” The fear in her words was something tangible, enough to make Flurry’s heart quake. For all her life, she’d known those on the other side of the woods as something only to be imagined of, very rarely heard but never once seen. But maybe that was not so truthful a statement…
“They must be watching us. Watching our movements when we come close to the forest,” Twilight insisted. Her words were harried, swift in speech as she always was when under stress. “We were close to the forest’s edge just at the particular moment one of them happened to be passing by? I don’t believe it is coincidence that they happened upon the same stretch of the border just at the moment we were present.”
“Then why? Why track our movements so carefully? I don’t remember hearing about such stories when I was her age. Why are they now so keen on making themselves known?” Cadance inquired. “Even when I thought I heard them as a little girl, I couldn’t say it for certain. Are they hunting us?”
“They behave like guards about a house. Ensuring nothing leaves nor enters,” Shining muttered. “They must watch us all the time and we never even know.”
“But- the forest must be massive. Colossal, with so much territory for them to cover. Why would they focus all their attentions on this one village that they so clearly surround?”
“It has been too long since we came here for us to know what the outside world is like any longer,” Twilight reminded her. Were even our grandparents the first to settle here? Not even close. Night Light spoke of the village as though he’d been brought here when he was extremely young, but the whole of his childhood was here as far as records say. We don’t really know of what else lies beyond the woods. For all we know, this is the whole world and we’re right in the epicenter.”
“And so they focus on us…” Cadance mused. For a time, silence. Then, “Why fixate on us so? The treaty between us and- and them is known to everyone, but do we know why they despise us? What did we ever do?”
“Impossible to know. As far as the village’s records state, no one is aware anymore,” Twilight answered-
“Not quite,” Shining growled, most unwillingly so. “But it is still not enough.”
“And what does- you have records I’m not aware of?” Twilight asked, her tone sharp. “What have you been hiding from me?”
“Snippets. Not enough to explain anything in detail. Only that supposedly we did something to offend them in some way,” Shining said. “Only trinkets that father had, and that he passed down to me before he left.”
“And you’ve never mention it before now?”
“Did it matter before now? It changes nothing about our life, nor does it change the treaty.” There was the creak of wood as chair and floor were put to a strain. “… And it still doesn’t explain the rise in aggression from them, either.”
“Yes, well…” Twilight was clearly sulking, eager for a new tidbit of information that was left dangling out of her reach. “What do you suggest we do? If they’ve become more aggressive, do we retaliate in any way? Or do we try to placate them?”
“Add excess to the Full Moon offering,” Shining offered. “Better herbs, quality meat… it is only a guess at best that I can offer.”
“Your guesses have been good before,” Cadance remarked.
“But not enough to stop an increase of encounters on the border,” Shining reminded his bride, and the next sound he gave was a tired groan. “Let us go back to Flurry. The poor girl has enough nightmares about the woods. I’d hate to see this memory become a recurring thing.”
And so Flurry tried to race back to the kitchen where she had been left in the utmost silence before her kin would find her. Her mind was buzzing, heart pounding, and she knew not a single thing she could do that would remedy any of it. So much that she had not been meant to hear, yet now all of it made her mind swim; she would have plenty to ponder before the day was over.
They were so close; maybe they were still watching her now.
She felt a tension next to her in the form of her mother’s body. Was it fear, protective desire, or something else that kept Cadance uneasy? Considering what she’d overheard, there were plenty of options to choose from. Flurry knew better than to make such a query now, however. Not at such a moment as this, when the woods were so close.
The Full Moon offering was one of the rare instances where all souls within the village were present to bear witness. A tradition older than all present and hardly younger than the village itself, where a hearty gift was given to those who roam the woods so as to maintain the laws of whatever treaty had been drawn up those long days before. Some years saw leaner offerings than others- and vice versa, the New Moon offerings bringing little to the border for them to wield. But this year, with a hearty spring and many new livestock born, this one was to be a generous boon… especially with knowledge of tensions within her father’s mind.
The village host stood surrounding the ceremonial border marker: an aged stump decorated with wild flowers and wooden carvings, a binding of where the unknown throng and man meshed together for a miniscule moment, a grove where the forest crept forward to claim village life but was kept at bay by an open skies that saw no trees to provide shelter; a merging of worlds that was a focal point for them to trade. Small, momentary, but a portal nonetheless. Through the throng came her father, in his most formal attire and followed by a litter of goods: two fattened calves, freshly killed and surrounded by the finest herbs of the field. It would make for a tasty meal, and the medicinal poultices from Twilight’s apothecary would be good for illness and injury if the forest dwellers knew what to do with it. The meat itself still seemed to pulse with the heat of warm blood and life, the herbs remained green and fresh. This full moon was offering a hearty bounty.
“It’s not right, this is,” murmured someone behind her, and the sound was surprising enough that Flurry dared to glance about and find the source. “Those were Elrod’s best flock from the spring, why do they get to have them?”
Never in her –well, relatively few- years had Flurry ever heard someone openly expressing dissent about the offering, especially during the ceremony itself. Was this a recent sentiment? Surely it couldn’t be, even if the complaint was novel to her. The idea that someone was discontent with her father’s choices was shocking, and enough to make her head burn with anger.
“They always get the best picks. The same with what’s given from Twilight’s stock of herbs,” someone quickly whispered back, an aged woman who was taking the ceremony with greater reverence than even Flurry was. Her fiery eyes were fixed on a younger man near the edge of the crowd that brimmed with displeasure; Flurry recognized him as Mstr. Wendel, the blacksmith’s son. “Now shush, you! Not your time to be talking and you know it.”
Wendel looked eager to carry on, but bore the scrutiny of his elder for only a bit before he merely glowered and turned his head.
As the offering was put upon the bare stump, Flurry watched her father come kneel before it, his hands upon the offered calves with his head bowed. “Kindred denizens of the forest, hear our voice as we call to you in peace,” he said, the boom of his voice echoing across the open village so that every living soul might hear. “I kneel before your great kingdom in honor of you. You have our respect as both mighty and peaceful.”
Flurry had heard these words many times over the course of her life. Every offering was filled with them, a time-honored tradition that had been transpiring for heaven knew how long. Her father likely had said this speech so many times he knew the words by heart and could mutter them in his sleep.
“Behold our finest. Let them be yours to enjoy and make use of,” he called out. “May they bring you and your offspring life and health. May they let you grow strong and well. May your ways of life be preserved from all harm. And may you offer us the same, so that the peace we dwell within may never come to an end. Be strong, and be free from all fear and harm.”
The offering was left there at the stump, the people backing away just as Shining did the same. The people would not take their eyes off the offering until they had exited the grove and left that flicker of woods behind, whether it be by fear of what might be waiting for them just out of sight or a sign of respect. Flurry wanted to come forward and stand beside her father, but the hand that rested upon her shoulder was especially strong this time around. Cadance had been far too protective these past few days than what a teenage girl was willing to put up with.
“Mother, please, I’m fine without your help,” she finally said, no longer deigning to be guided through the village crowd at her mother’s will. “Mother- Mother, please!”
“Flurry, you’re making a scene…”
“Mother, I can walk without your help,” the young girl said, coming to a halt within the throng and glaring at Cadance’s anxious gaze. “I don’t need you to help me! I want to go back and walk with Papa.”
“And you’re sure you’ll be alright?” Cadance was in one of her worrying fits for some reason, having become more fretful and anxious than she’d been since before the day of the border incident.
“Yes! Of course I will, I’ll be with Papa,” she said, nearly stamping her foot so great was her frustration. “Now please, let me go, will you? Your hand is still on my arm.”
Indeed it was, and Cadance seemed not aware of the fact until her child had pointed out such a thing. “Y- yes, you’re right,” she murmured, retracting her grasp and seeming a little shamefaced about her actions. “… Yes, go with your father. He probably would like to see you, after all. Just make sure to see you both home quickly, alright? I have stew in the pot for us. With beef this time.”
Another tradition known to days of the full moon: a stew made with choice meat, oftentimes crafted with the same meat that was offered to the denizens of the woods. Rarely was it beef, considered too great a luxury for the village to suffer losing; but then again, her father hadn’t hesitated this time to sacrifice two fattened calves for this passage. The anticipation made Flurry’s stomach gurgle. “I’ll bring him, then, Mother,” she said, and off like a shot through the crowd did she fly.
Her father was, as always, last to leave the grove behind, she moving through the many souls that left the fearful place behind until she caught up to him. Her inclination had been to greet him jovially, but the happy mood fled from her when she took in his appearance: haggard and slow, weighed down by burdens. Goodness, what had transpired to make her boundless father so weary? “Papa?” She called. “Papa, are you alright?”
“Flurr- yes, I’m alright.” Shining’s sorrowed form regained its strength when he realized what eyes looked upon him, he straightening his back and offering a smile that couldn’t quite hide his exhaustion. “Don’t fret, little love. Your father just has things to think about.”
She knew full well, and the embrace she gave him was meant to help soothe such thinking. Flurry had often been mocked by her peers for her doting love upon her aging father, but not once had their teasing or bullying ever made such behavior waver. He was the best, greatest man she’d ever met in all her life- and heaven help what boy tried to compete for her heart; he’d have to be just as good a man as Shining was! When Flurry hugged her father, it was with all her strength. Never would she hesitate to ensure he knew how much she cherished him.
Shining gave a gentle laugh at the strength with which she held him. “And what has my feisty girl in such a mood today?” He wondered jovially. “Surely my brave daughter wasn’t frightened.”
“Not a chance, Papa,” she said warmly, looking up at her hero with shining eyes. “Just…” It was better she never admitted that she’d eavesdropped. “… I’m just sorry I scared you the other day.”
“You are completely forgiven, little love,” Shining said in return. “I apologize for fretting that you’d done something foolish. I can always rely on my little girl to do the right thing, can’t I?”
Flurry smiled, but it was only half-hearted. She knew better than anyone just how many times she’d let him down, all the moments she’d been a detriment. But still her father loved to build her up. “Thanks, Papa,” she said, burying her face into his chest. “Mother wanted me to say she has stew on the pot for us.”
“Ah, so she has some of Mr. Elrod’s beef cooking,” he said, a new warmth in his eyes at the prospect of a good meal. “Well, we can’t keep your mother waiting, can we? Let’s go.” And with that, he put his hand about hers and led them both on back to the cottage they knew to be their sanctuary. “Just so you know… your father cooks beef better than your mother does.”
Flurry laughed, the very thought impossible to believe. “Father, you couldn’t brew tea even if your life depended on it!” She said. “How could you cook beef fit for a meal?”
“Oh, you’ve just rarely seen your father do such a thing,” Shining replied, almost seeming hurt by her disbelief. “Your mother is a wonder in the hearth, but your father prefers an open flame. If only it were summertime and I could show you!”
“You’d show me how you could feed us bits of blackened meat, burnt to a crisp, Papa,” Flurry teased.
“The cheek of you! Why you- you…” Shining only gave another laugh. “You are my daughter after all,” he said, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I’ve spoiled you so, haven’t I?”
The young woman at his side only beamed and soaked in his affections, glad to have a moment with the man she adored so thoroughly. He was the paragon of people, so far as she was concerned; always good and brave, gentle and fierce, always able to make the right choice. Even if he was sometimes keen to see her at fault, he never once did so out of dislike or swift judgment. No one, not even her mother, was so ready to look upon her with stars in their eyes.
As Flurry walked along, she didn’t notice the sound at first. A rustling. Just on the edge of her hearing, away from her comfortable world and on to elsewhere. But then came a snap of twigs and it was enough to rouse the lovely girl from her happy reverie and back into the wide world of her encircled home. What was making that noise..?
Flurry slowed in her stride beside her father and turned to look at the woods. Where else could it come from but there? She paused and waited… yes, there it was! More movement, the sound of leaves moving about and branches snapping! Something was shuffling about on the other side of the border- again, right near her!
She wanted to cry out, but couldn’t. Her nightmare was happening all over again, a new encounter beginning right before her eyes. Her legs trembled and she felt her heart quake, mouth turn dry and taste like ash; no, this couldn’t be happening again. How could it be so? She didn’t want to see what was on the other side, not hear its sounds and movements like she was in a feverish dream-
The bushes that lined the border were rustling! It was right there, pushing against blade and tree and bush to push through! This was to be a breach, a true trespass into her world and she was going to be the first victim-!
The tall, strewn leaves that held fast the line between their world and hers crashed, rippling like water amidst a storm. Out from the green and grey that encircled the village came a young man, fresh-faced and looking about at the village in utter confusion.
Author's Note
If there is any sign that I clearly lost my way, it was the gap between the last chapter and this. I've been a mess.
I might not be anything before too long.
Enjoy, I guess. Sorry it took so long.
