She's always been told to stay away from the woodline- that to enter the forest would be to provoke death. And only a few dread stories as to the horrors that would see the deed done...
She was taught to fear the creaking of branches above her head. Nightmares consist of wandering through the trees in flight, pursued by a horrendous shape just out of sight that would be her end if it caught her.
Flurry Heart knows the rules of peace that keep her village a harmonious place, as well as the laws that keep them all alive:
No one is to enter the woods. An offering will be left at the edge of the woods during every full moon, and an offering will be retrieved every new moon. Those who enter the woods will be made forfeit to those within, and they know not the meaning of mercy.
Never has either side dared to breach this uneasy peace, and thus each continues to survive- perhaps even begin to flourish after so many dark years of struggle they had endured. Until now.
Good gods, it was above her. She somehow could feel its presence amidst the branches and pine that shielded starlight from piercing down upon her head, knowing it was upon her tail and intent on seeking out no other. But how could she know of it when she heard it not? No branches snapped, no shuffling of leaves nor groaning of wood that would alert her to a sign of it soaring through the treetops. She had no right to know that it was there. Save for the fact that it was hunting her.
Snap. Groan. Wood stretched to its breaking point echoed in her ears as clumps of green pine fell just before her feet, the strange new substance beneath her boots causing her to stumble. Oh, how easily it could flit from branch to branch without ever touching a single needle, so at home within its environment that the rustles of sound she would emanate were never to be found, only if it demanded they be heard! It hunted her- no, toyed with her. Played with her like a housecat with a mouse! It would only be a matter of time before this wretched beast ended her!
Crack! A great trunk of tree fell just before the next step of her path and saw fit to ending to her escape. How could she hope to slow down before it came? One step, then another, then sent tumbling heels over head through air and into hard earth that scraped at her youthful skin-
But then came the break! The fracture of limb, one of her legs! To go any further was impossibility now, no hope of escaping to the forest’s edge where salvation might find her! She tried to right herself, to somehow keep running- but impossible! Nothing would be able to revive her fleeing spirit and see her free from the clutches of what foul monster that sought her out.
She dared not look at it, even though she knew it to be just right behind her. Oh, she could feel its presence without a doubt! How it edged ever closer, a slow and loping crawl towards the flesh that it would devour! It hungered for her so greedily, so lustily- the thought of her being the one that would satisfy its belly was sickening to behold.
She had to call for help. To cry out, to do something besides just accept her fate! Maybe someone else was out here in these accursed woods, one that would find her and see this fate reversed! Lungs filled with air, she made ready to burst with terror- yet all that came from her lips was a raspy, weak little mewl of “Help!” that would not have echoed even amongst the lilies. Her whole body had failed her, and she was to die tonight.
Terrified, horrified beyond rational meaning, she looked back upon her devourer and saw its hulking shadow for only a moment- for that was all it needed to sink its teeth into her flesh and consume the darkened light that surrounded her being, sending every sense into the oblivion that was death.
Awakening came in an instant. Did she suck in breath, give a gasp, scream? Senses told her not, ripped too quickly from the dreaming world to offer much report upon anything. Even their assessment of her being awake arrived delayed by a few momentary seconds, still focused on the horror of the woods and the blight of violence that had been consuming her. She was being devoured, eaten alive while still screaming, she was- she was… dreaming.
It had only been a dream. Flurry Heart awoke to reality and found herself in the open room where she bedded down every night, tucked away in the comfortable corner that had been given to her ever since she had become a young woman. Not really any different from when she’d been a girl, but she’d been given her own space away from her parent’s eyes, a shroud about her bed to help shield her from prying eyes. So she was at home, safe and secure, and most definitely in her hay bed. Not in those ghastly, ungodly, forbidden woods that would be her end.
But was she safe? The young woman was not quite so certain after such a nightmare; were those kind of specters normal dreaming material for a young girl such as she? Not likely. Never before had she dreamed of such violence, at least as far as she could recall. Something malevolent had disturbed her slumbering world, seen fit to filling it with the threats of infinity. And how dreadful it was for her mind to focus upon… upon them and their world.
The forbidden world, just out of sight.
She meant not to. She knew it would terrify her, see fit to sending her already unnerved being put into fits. But how was she to rest if she did not know? Rising slowly from her bed, Flurry cast aside the shroud about her and put feet to misshapen floor beneath, the familiar feel of her father’s work granting her the courage to continue on. No, she would not hesitate when she knew of the mighty spirit that protected this place. Just in the other room, what could hope to breach this place and do her harm? She would face her fears even in the midst of this oppressive darkness.
Out from her room and into the main room of her familial home. It was the only one with windows, with a way that would allow her to see what lurked outside. Perhaps more on tiptoe than she intended, Flurry crept her way to the smeared glass that was the pane above the stove. It was the only window that faced outwards, out towards the woods- towards them. What would she see when her eyes gazed out into that darkness? Would shadows flicker by? Would she even be able to see at all, or would some brutish specter be shrouding her vision right from the very start? The village was so precise about its bedtimes; maybe there was a reason behind such decisions.
Stretching out, trying not to make metal groan lest her presence awaken other life, Flurry Heart looked outwards into the darkness and saw… nothing. Not a soul, not a thing, not the slightest movement or anything that would alert her senses. Because it was a cloudy night and there would be no light that could seep through the thick blanket of grey above her and set to light her dark world, even with the full moon soon approaching. There would be no way to alleviate her terrors when the heavy dark surrounded them.
But that would be stupid. There had been a truce for generations now, unbreakable and never would either side dare to see it severed. She was scared for no reason, scared of a nothing that would never be; what a foolish thing for her to do! A sixteen-year-old girl, looking out into the black for man-eating monsters! Just what sort of scaredy-cat was she? “This is stupid,” Flurry muttered.
She made to go back to her room- but then stopped. Some instinct, of what kind she knew not, told her to freeze and move no more. Prey instinct, perhaps, a remnant of days gone by- but move she did not, save her head so that she might look back out into that infinite blackness and let her eyes dwell upon the wood that encircled the edge of her village.
She knew it not. She had no certainty, no reason to believe, not even superstition- but something was gazing back at her. Something out there, in the void, in the depths of those hideous branches, and it saw her. Eyes had met eyes, face seen face, and recognition had passed between.
She was not alone here.
Flurry looked out, wondering if there would be some flicker to alert her senses. She saw naught in the dark, but would some pale fragment of light breach through the clouds and illuminate eyes so that reflection might be seen? She need only hold her courage and pray that the clouds might thin out; that would be all it took.
Across her home came the sound of movement; remnants of storm overhead, perhaps, rustling the shewn world about her and letting aged wood creak and make loud its protests. And in its heady cover, the guttural cry of something so desperately wild and unknown.
Flurry dashed to her room and let the thick wool blankets of her bed shield her from harm until the morning came. Perhaps courage would come for her then, and then the sound she had heard would only be the weeping of wind through unfiltered air.
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?”
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.
