The Beginning Woods

by Malcolm McNeill

  “Do you know where we are?” Max asked. “Martha?”

  She was standing just in front of him, still and quiet.

  “It’s no use, it’s too far… they’re all going to die… and my parents are a part of it!” She sank to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. “What does THAT become? What does that end up as, on your Merry-Go-Round? It can’t be a SCORPION! It can’t be a MINOTAUR! I’ve got those and I never did anything so EVIL! What kind of thing ends up coming round at you AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAIN? Don’t they know that’s what’s going to HAPPEN?”

  “Martha.” He knelt beside her and held her shaking body close. “Martha let’s try anyway. Let’s try.”

  “We can’t it’s TOO FAR! And it’s TOO LATE!”

  “But I have an idea. Listen. I just… I need your help to make it work.”

  She lifted her tear-streaked face. “W-what? Really? You have an idea?”

  “Can you find your way to Rosethorn in the dark?”

  “Yes it’s easy. It’s down the valley, just straight down. But it’s so far! I’m sorry for yelling at you because it really is you’re right really it is far.”

  “Maybe I can do it,” Max said. “Maybe I can run there.”

  She went quiet. “No, Max,” she whispered. “Nobody can run that fast.”

  “I can if I get gotten by the Wildness.”

  “NO!” she gasped. “If you get gotten you can’t come back!”

  “The Dark Man does it. He remembers what it was like to lose his Mother and goes Wild. Then he remembers having her. That’s how he comes back.”

  “You never really had your Forever Parents though. You never lost them, not like he lost his Mother.”

  “I’m not thinking about my Forever Parents,” Max said, looking at her intently. “I’m thinking about someone else. Someone I have nearly lost.”

  “Who?” Puzzled, she looked back at him. Then her eyes softened. “Oh,” she said quietly. “That’s… so romantic!”

  “If I felt like that again, if I thought I was losing you, I could go Wild fast, I know I could.”

  “That’s still not going to work,” she said, shaking her head firmly. “If you’re Wild why would you go to Rosethorn?”

  “Because you’d be inside me,” Max said. “You’d be inside me when I was Wild. And you could keep hold of me in the Wildness.”

  She stood, her grey dress fluttering round her body. Above her, dark, violent clouds tumbled together in the night sky.

  “Max, if it doesn’t work, if I can’t—you’ll go Wild. You’ll be lost forever.”

  “And you’ll be stuck inside a Wild One,” he said. He smiled wanly. “Now it’s your turn to keep hold of me.”

  She bit her lip, her eyes full. Then she nodded quickly. “Take off your clothes, then.”

  He blinked. “Wait—what?”

  “It’ll help. The Dark Man said so. Clothes are like armour against the Wildness. It’ll get in faster if you’re naked.”

  He nodded. He remembered. “OK, I’ll do it.”

  He reached into his pocket for the Dragon Hunter’s tooth. After thinking for a moment, he pressed it into his earhole until it was wedged securely. Then he began to undress, dropping his clothes one by one into a crumpled heap. Soon he stood shivering violently in the cold air.

  “Stop staring.”

  “Are those what World Ones wear for underpants?” she asked curiously.

  “I knew you’d start making fun of me.”

  “Didn’t Father Furthingale give you something proper?”

  “They felt itchy.”

  “Those don’t look very warm.”

  “They’re not,” he said. “Can we get on with this please?”

  She held out her hand. “Come close to me,” she whispered, her eyes wide and serious.

  He stepped close. They stood for a moment, puffs of breath between them. With a quick, firm movement she pulled his head down and pressed her lips against his mouth.

  “That’s what I’m like when I’m here,” she whispered in his ear. “Now.” She drew back a little, and stared at him seriously. “You need to feel like you’re losing me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I suppose you could just imagine what it’d be like. To be without me. I know what an imagination you have. But I don’t want you to do that. Ever. Not for anything.”

  “I have to try.”

  “No,” she said softly. “I’ve a better way.”

  She pulled her hand out of his. Then, reaching out, she touched his cheek lightly with her fingertips.

  “Don’t forget me, Max!” she whispered. “I hope you find your parents!”

  He frowned and shook his head, because he didn’t understand.

  Understanding—that she was saying goodbye—came a moment later, when she turned and ran into the Woods.

  2

  THE DRAGON FIRE

  “MARTHA!”

  He dived after her. If she got too far ahead, if she got out of the gravestone’s reach, the bond holding her to existence would break, and she would disappear forever into the darkness under the millpond.

  There! Her grey form flickered ahead, a Will-o’-the-Wisp, uncatchable and slight.

  “MARTHA WAIT!”

  He gave chase, an agonizing pain lit up in his heart. His feet slicing open as they slipped on frozen roots and sharp stones—that was nothing. The branches whipping his side and scratching his face—he hardly noticed them. All he felt was the pain of the connection between them, the pain of it stretching, about to snap forever.

  It was as if he’d never felt it before.

  “Martha!” he gasped out. “I… can’t!”

  She drew further ahead.

  He was losing her.

  And that wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t FAIR. It wasn’t POSSIBLE. It wasn’t the way things were supposed to WORK!

  You’re NOT GOING TO GET HER! he snarled at the Woods.

  SHE’S MINE!

  She’s MINE FOR EVER!

  And the Wildness found its entrance.

  It cracked his soul apart, charging him with a coil of energy. He became a wild dervish, a demon unleashed from a bottle buried a million years underground. His fingers were claws, his teeth were fangs, his hair bristled with hoar frost. A tail flickered out behind him. His eyes sharpened against the dark. He dropped on all fours and he was galloping so fast he caught up with her in three snarling bounds leaping on her back knocking her down and then over her and beyond into the trees into the WildnessintotheWildnesstheWildness—

  In a flash, she was back inside him.

  Where everything had changed.

  Before, she could find safe spaces from the whirlpools and currents. Now the roots of the Woods were coiling through the millpond’s waters. They found her the moment she returned. Circled her legs and arms. Pulled her down.

  MINE!

  I’m not yours or anybody’s!

  MINE!

  The roots snarled round her body as she struggled against them. They tightened and squeezed. She kicked, her arms reaching up, her eyes fixed on the surface.

  Bright, astonishing bubbles rose, the last precious moments of life held in watery skins.

  It was the weeds again.

  The weeds. The Woods. The Roots.

  MINE!

  They drew her down, down through the bottom of the millpond, into the darkness below. Feet first. Then legs. Body. Neck. Head. Her face gasped up. Her fingers.

  Mud slid over her eyes.

  Mud slid down her throat.

  A dim, soft shaft of light, a sunbeam, floated down through the green murk.

  Max?

  Martha… help me!

  She ripped herself free. She grew—she could grow to any size. The millpond was a puddle, the weeds ribbons round her wrists. She tore them apart.

  You won’t get HIM or ME! MAX! Listen to me! GO FAST!

  fast, yes.

  Fast was good.

  It felt good
to be fast and free and Wild.

  He was a black spark from the Woods, a boy-thing born with a bite, born with the mark of WildnessWilednassWildnsdns.

  Faster Max! Faster!

  He hurtled into the night. Leaping. Bounding. Ducking. Rolling.

  The joy of it!

  The joy!

  If only the girl would go, the grey girl holding him back. He wanted to feel the final bite, to pass over into the WildnesstheWildnesstheWildnessthenwnsskns.

  She wouldn’t let him. She was too strong. She had him in an iron grip.

  Yanking his ears!

  There, there! Turn!

  He swerved and leapt, cleared a hummock and a fence with an agile spring and landed on a white, snowy surface that slipped under him. His limbs flailing, he skidded down the slope and crashed into something narrow and hard.

  He felt around it.

  Bricks.

  Hot.

  Smoke and smells!

  He knew this thing.

  A chimney!

  The Wildness dwindled, pushed it out of him by something bigger, something that was bigger and kept getting bigger, swelling and expanding, something bright and pulsing and golden…

  You’re here! NOISE! MAKE NOISE!

  He jumped up and down, kicking and stamping. He roared down the chimney pot. Startled shouts came up from below. He stood straight and tall, and put his hands to his mouth and screamed, because the grey girl told him to.

  Move! KEEP MOVING!

  He bounded down from the roof. A door opened, a man was holding a lantern, a cluster of frightened children behind him. A word exploded in his mind, bright and startling, like a firework—the grey girl had set it off.

  He flung it in their faces.

  DRAGON!

  He raced to the next door. Hammering. Shouting. Flinging out fireworks that exploded in the night.

  DRAGON!

  DRAGON!

  Doors and windows clattered open. He went from house to house. His knuckles burst from hammering. His voice cracked from shouting. But still he shouted. Still he hammered.

  DRAGON!

  DRAGON!

  DRAGON!

  DRAGON!

  Someone caught at him, trying to drag him away. He pulled free. Then, all around him:

  DRAGON!

  DRAGON!

  Other voices. Other voices were shouting it. They were awake.

  You did it! You warned them! Max YOU DID IT! Oh Max, THANK YOU!

  DRAGON!

  DRAGON!

  And then the Wildness rushed out of him, all its roots and leaves and branches gathering before him in a vast snaking form.

  DRAGON!

  The Forest itself was before him.

  DRAGON!

  Its cavernous mouth opened.

  DRAGON!

  And he saw all the way in, to a bonfire, a bonfire that was rushing towards him—the burning shards of a thousand trees.

  Oh Max…

  And he did not need to decide.

  He did not need to be brave or make a choice.

  The Dragon Fire was all around him.

  And he sat down in it.

  Oh… Max.

  MAX

  MXMXAYUOMAX

  YOYUOYUYOUMXAPANERT

  DMERREA

  PARNTDRAMEEERDERAMERFPARE

  NTSPARENTDREAMER

  R

  D

  E

  A

  M

  ED

  DRAMEEDDRAMDEDYORUPARENTS

  YORUPRAENTSYOUROLNYPARENTS

  WERETEHRETREHETHERTHYERE

  WEHETANSGMULE

  WREHETMULNSGA

  WTINGWAITINGWAITINGTHEYWANTEDYOU

  TURNEDAWAYAND

  VANISHTEHYHD

  YOU WREE TEHIR LSATDERAM

  THEYHDNOTHERDREAMSS

  THYEWNETHTEYLEFTTHEYVANISHEDYOUTURNEDAWYATHEMANDDREAMTTHEYVANISHEDBECAUSEOFYOUTHEYHADNOREASONHEYTOREMAINTHEYVANISHEDBECAUSEOFYOUTHEYVANISHEDBECAUSEOFYOUTHEYVANISHEDBECAUSEOFYOUTHEYVANISHEDBECAUSEOFYOUTHEYVANISHEDBECAUSEOFYOUTHEYVANISHEDBECAUSEOFYOUHeykidNOREASONHEY!HEYLISTENUP!Hey kid listen up. HEY! Remember when Forbes wanted to hold your hand and you didn’t let him? You remember, don’t you? And you said, what did you say, you said you HATED HIM? How’d you think that made him FEEL? Like his life wasn’t hard enough, standing at that grinder all day, busting his gut—for what? For dirty looks? And you remember how Alice took you to the bookshop and you wanted her to clear off in case your Forever Parents showed up? She knew what you were thinking, don’t think she didn’t. And like that wasn’t the only time! You never had a word for her. You’ve been turning your face away from the World since day one. You want to know who you are? THAT’S who you are. You want real people to disappear so they don’t get in the way of your dreams. And now, guess what? They went and Vanished. But hey—that’s what you wanted, right? Goodjobkid. And sweet dreams. Sweet dreams, that’s what you prefer isn’t it, that’s WHAT you PREFER YOU PREFERRED THAT your WHOLELIFE YOU YOUPREFERREDTODREAMYOURDREAMPARENTSKid, your dream parents, those guys in the Balloon, thatwasjusta nicedreamThat’sallitwasYOURDREAMPARENTSN

  EVEREXISTEDNEVEREXISTEDYOUMADETHEMUPTHEYWEREDREAMSDREAMSNOTHINGBUTDREAMS Not that it wasn’t a good story, I’m not saying that but that’s allitwasAGOODSTORYAGOODSTROYSOTYRSOTYUOLOSYLSOTYYOULYORSTOSTYROULSTYOULOSTTHEONLYPARENTSYOUEVERHADTHEONLYPARENTSYOUEVERHADYOUHADNOOTHERPARENTSNOOTHERPARENTSYOUHADNOOTHERPARENTSNOOTHERPARENTSYOUHADNOOTHERPARENTSNOOTHERPARENTSNOOTHERPARENTSNOOTHERPARENTSNOOTHERPARENTSNOOTHERPARENTSNOOTHERPARENTSNOOTHERPARENTSTHEMAWAYYOUIGNOREDTHEYEHYEAHYEAHyeah!Ifyoucan’tmakeitrealit’sworthnothingnothingnothingMANDTHEYVANISHEDANDITSALLYOURFAULTITSALLYOURFAULTITSALLYOURFAULTTHEYVANISHEDITWASYOURFAULTTHEMULGANSVANISHEDYOURFAULTYOURFAULTMAXYOURFAULTMAXSTOPMAXYOURFAULTSTOPSTOPMAXYOURSTOPSTOPMAXSTOPRUNNINGMAXSTOPSTOPSTOP

  STOP

  STOP

  STOP MAXIDON’TKNOW

  MAX STOP

  MAXWHERE

  Max!

  “Max Max Max… stop running stop running Max I don’t know where we are…”

  He stumbled. The blinding darkness lifted and he saw his arms, thrust deeply into snow drifted against a boulder. Martha was kneeling beside him, tears dripping from her narrow, pinched face. He closed his eyes, wanting the darkness to return, to blot it all out.

  “Max you survived it’s all right. You survived the fire!”

  But he hadn’t survived.

  He understood now.

  Nobody survived the Dragon Fire.

  It had burnt inwards, burning up the dreams and lies that had encased who he was. All that remained was that voice, the unconscious voice that had whispered inside him his whole life. The voice he had drowned out with dreams.

  Forbes and Alice were his Forever Parents.

  He’d always known this and he’d hated them for it. He’d hated them because they were real. He’d hated them because they loved him. He’d turned away from that love, and longed instead for a fantasy love, an imaginary love that didn’t exist, that had never existed and never could exist. A painting on a wall. A Balloon in the sky. A magical word.

  Panthalassa.

  A word that meant nothing.

  He’d lost the only parents he’d ever had.

  That was the truth the Dragon Fire had revealed.

  And he’d run from this knowledge, deep into the Woods.

  He’d accepted it, but he’d run from it.

  He’d lost sight of everything except tree and sky, snow and ice.

  He began to cry, sobbing and shivering, even though he was warm, so warm. He’d been living inside a dream, but the Dragon Fire had stripped that dream from him and now he had nothing. Only Martha was there, keeping the Wildness at bay. He threw his arms round her, he squeezed her desperately, crushing her, crushing her as tightly as he could.

  She pulled herself away and took his head between her hands.

  “Max, I can’t keep you warm! You’re going to freeze to death!”

  She stood up and took a few steps i
nto the flurrying snow. “Somebody help us!” she called out. “Help!”

  He watched her grey form darting among the trees.

  Why was she worried? He was warm, and snug. And it was all so quiet and white.

  He lay back in the snow.

  He was warm and in bed and at home, and it was good to lie here in bed at home… his Queen smoothing his hair and whispering, her words full of love.

  “My Knight! I’ll tell you a story and… it’ll be easier. It’ll be easier when you sleep.”

  “Yes, my Queen,” he murmured. “Tell me a story!”

  “There was a girl lost in the Woods, my Knight! She’d been put there by her parents, who didn’t want her. She got so cold she sat under a tree and began to freeze, and then Father Moroz came, who comes to everyone who freezes in the Woods. He came down through the trees, bringing the frost, his fingers snapping, his breath crackling. ‘Are you cold, little girl?’ he asked. And she shivered and froze like never before because Father Moroz was so close, but smiled and said through chattering teeth, ‘No, dear Father, not cold at all. I’m quite warm, thank you. How are you?’ And Father Moroz was pleased with her politeness, and took her to his cave, made her warm and gave her gifts. My Knight, my King—when Father Moroz comes and asks, tell him you’re warm, and he will bring you to his cave and give you gifts. When you hear his fingers snapping… you’re to tell him, ‘I’m warm!’… and I’ll be waiting for you when you wake… I’ll be here… and I’ll be yours for ever…”

  And he was warm.

  A thousand feathers were drifting down out of the sky.

  He was lying in a bed of them.

  The deeper they were, the warmer he became.

  Reaching up, he pulled the goose feather quilt over him.

  Then Father Moroz was there, coming down through the trees, his fingers snapping.

  And his beard was frost.

  And his eyes were ice.

  THE WORLD ONE

  “I’m warm,” he said loudly.