Through the Forest

A few disclaimers about this piece:

1) It's not actually a short story; more like a story snippet, as are most things I write. But I'm going to let it fall into this category anyway
2) This is what I'm thinking of reading at our Halloween meeting. Spooky enough? But since it's highly unlikely that anyone will see it before then, I figured I'd post it here...I so want this site to survive...



Shadows fell thick around her feet. So solid they were in their blackness that it seemed they should have been stirred up by the fluttering of her clothing in the wind. The trees in this part of the forest were larger than most others, and in the envelopment of the night, they seemed even larger than usual. She knew the moon was shining somewhere far above her head, passing through the first day of its third phase, but beneath the mammoth branches of the pines and firs, there was no moonlight. What light did penetrate the darkness shone weakly from a lantern she carried with her. Also from the lantern came the only sound in the place - a steady, rhythmic creaking that slid from the place where the chain met the metal lid. It was a hesitant grate, almost as if its maker was aware that the area around it was filled with a chilling silence, not to be disturbed lightly. Certainly the carrier of the lantern knew this. Her eyes flicked back and forth across the ground, taking in the hundred twigs that had fallen there over time, and her gait altered effortlessly to avoid every one. It was a nearly impossible trick, one that she had grown accustomed to over years and much practice. But then, she thought, she did have a slight advantage. Small feet supported a lithe, graceful body, one whose reflexes were very close to infallible. She took in the details of the world from behind large eyes that narrowed to slits in the daylight and swelled to pools of liquid black in the nighttime, and heard its noises through sharp ears, picking up every sigh of wind in the leaves, every footfall soft on stones, every lap of waves against a ship. But now she heard none of these noises. Only the shrill, metallic rasp of the lantern’s chain.

With every minute that slipped by, her apprehension grew. But mounting worry never touched the young lines of her face. More naturally than instinct should have allowed, she closed her mind to the anxiety, letting it course through her nerves instead. As she had intended, she was jolted to an even more acute awareness. She had been warned of the nature of this forest long before seeing it. Been warned of its haunting, of the achingly cold chill that permeated the air and settled deep in her bones and the pit of her stomach. It was not the presence, but the absence of things, that made the area almost unbearably disturbing.

Time lost meaning. She did not know how long she strode beneath the trees that blocked the sky. Only by forgetting that time existed could she stay so long in such a place without being driven insane. And so she did. Letting her instincts take over, her mind moved through a thousand different images and voices, the movies in her head far more tangible than her surreal surroundings.

After too long, she felt something lift. Suddenly, and yet gradually, the atmosphere seemed to loose its deathlike grip on her, and she relaxed from a level of tension she had not known existed. The trees thinned almost immediately, and she was bathed in the moonlight of a normal forest again. Quickly, she raised the lantern to her lips and extinguished the flame that had guided her through A’iracilicyn - The Forest of Eternalle Night. As its remains - a thin line of smoke - dissolved before her, she expressed her thanks for the lantern to the night around her.

She allowed herself a moment to savour the reality of the place, her senses coming back alive. Her eyes closed. A deep inhalation brought in so many scents: the spiciness of the sap flowing through the trees, their deep, woody trunks, the natural, somehow dusty-smelling coat of a squirrel and a crisp, salty taste on the air that meant the sea nearby. Insects chattered and buzzed near the ground, a shyra-bird let out her low moan from above, guarding her nest, and quite farther away, clangs, the thunk of footsteps on wood, and human voices told of the closing-up of the port until tomorrow.

With that reminder, she snapped her eyes open and pulled out of her reverie. The lantern had quickly grown cool in the chilled air, which surprised her, since it had stayed lit for so long. But then, she remembered, there’s no way of knowing how long I was in that dead Forest. It may have only been a few moments. She looped the chain around her wrist, glancing to both sides of the path before her. A large tree with reddish-tinged bark stood a little to the left. There.

A few steps and she was at the roots, a swift leap and she was leaning out over one of the branches. She fastened the chain securely around a thick part of the branch and lowered the lantern to swing in the light breeze. Then, walking back up the narrow bough as easily as if it were ground, she reached into a hole formed by the tree splitting off into three different directions. Inside this hollow was folded a thick, velvety piece of fabric, which she pulled out and jumped back to the ground with.
She shook it out, enjoying the smooth quality of the material, and the cloak unrolled to its full length, falling at her feet. From somewhere inside it, a note fell towards the ground. Her hand shot out to catch it before it landed, and she was easily able to read the sharp, efficient script by the broken moonlight.

Falavarr~

Draw this cloak up over your head and reveal your face to no one in the port village of Hannad. There you can stay, in the shadow of the lighthouse. If possible, arrive midmorning, when you will most easily blend in with the traders fresh from the ships. Until my return, Evon, the light-keeper, can assist you. He alone you can talk to openly, for I have told him of your coming. Best wishes to you, and I shall watch for the lantern sign.
~Winston