She lives in a house on a hill, nestled between two towering mountains, guarded by a rushing river. She has no visitors, no family, no friends. She lives on the carrots, tomatoes, and berries in her garden. She gets nourishment from the occasional rabbit or deer that gets ensnared in the wooden animal traps scattered throughout the forest, masked by dancing blades of grass.
A boy wanders. He’s lost, separated from his family who went out camping. When he reaches the river, he uses the jutting rocks to cross to the other side. He has a bright red backpack strapped to his shoulders, filled with bottles of water, jackets, and swim suits. His parents entrusted him with this bag for their trip while they carried the tent equipment, food, and walking poles.
The boy has no voice. He cannot call for Mama or Papa. But he is brave. He continues forward with no path to follow, hands curled around the black woven straps of his backpack. When the sun starts to set, he can feel his heart in his throat. His pulse pounds with a sporadic rhythm, like it might burst free of his chest at any moment.
The boy knows he must keep moving. He’s heard stories of the monsters that prowl at night, with needle-like teeth and glowing green eyes. He starts to run, nearly tripping on foliage and rotting logs. Within seconds, his breath leaves him. He struggles to suck down air, and his lungs burn from exertion, but he’s too afraid to stop. In the distance, smoke rises over the treetops. It’s controlled, careful, as if escaping from a chimney. And that warm yellow glow…
The boy moves faster. When he reaches the cottage, nestled between two towering mountains, he starts to slow. Relief rushes in with his breath. He’s pounding at the door in seconds. At first, nobody answers, but the lights are on inside. Sounds from the forest reach his ears, like the wailing of grieving ghosts. He pounds against the door harder, faster, until his knuckles flare red. He wants to cry out and beg, but the boy has no voice.
The boy jumps back as the door flings open, and a woman with long blonde hair stands in the doorframe. Her hair is smooth, her clothing hand-sewn. She’s pale. Paler than anyone the boy had ever seen before. Is she a ghost? It doesn’t matter. He grabs onto her loose white sleeves and looks up into her eyes, lavender and cold.
The woman shakes the boy off. “What do you want, boy?”
The boy can’t respond. Instead of trying, he pushes his way past the woman and into the cabin.
The woman blusters and whirls around. “You can’t be here. Where are your parents?” At the boy’s shrug, the woman grounds out a growl of frustration. “Then you can stay. But do not touch anything. Do not speak to me. In the morning, you’re gone.”
The boy doesn’t bother with a response. He finds an empty corner on the rug, curls up, and falls asleep within moments. He wakes to the sound of humming, and when he looks up he sees the woman weaving at the edge of her bed. When the boy sits up, the woman sharply turns to face him. “It’s been light for several hours. Leave.”
The boy’s stomach rumbles, as if on command. He flushes, embarrassed, and scrambles to his feet. As he beelines for the door, a wave of hunger hits him once more. He pushes it away as he reaches for the door knob. Before he can open it, the woman says, “Wait.” The boy looks over his shoulder, confused.
“I can’t be sending a little boy into the woods on an empty stomach,” she says, using a ladle to pour steaming soup into a small wooden bowl. She beckons him to the table and he gratefully obeys. He picks at the slices of carrots floating in the broth and dips chunks of bread in the liquid. When he finishes, he stands up without a word and walks for the door. As he reaches for the door knob the woman says again, “Wait. I can’t be sending a little boy into the woods all on his own.” She shrugs past him and doesn’t bother looking back to see if he followed. He jogs to meet her pace and watches the tall woman with awe as she weaves through the forest with unnatural speed, as if it’s second nature.
The woman leaves her place in the forest for the first time in years. Each step away from the cottage feels unnatural… wrong. As she and the boy pass the stream, it starts to hurt. She can feel the pull of the forest begging her to return. She ignores the ghostly voices in her mind, she ignores the agony. By the time she reaches the nearby village, she’s exhausted. She doesn’t show it, for the boy’s sake, and leads him to the town center.
The boy knows his parents will come looking for him in the town. All he has to do is wait, and eventually he will find them. He wants to thank the woman—ask for her name. But the boy has no voice. He turns to look at her, but the woman is gone. The boy reaches for his stomach, still feeling the warmth of the stew he’d had just that morning.
The woman sits on the edge of her bed in the cottage nestled between two towering mountains. A seed has been planted in her heart by that boy. Suddenly, she feels alone.