Lysa held tight stepping carefully one foot after the other, looking at what she considered darkness, but knew something else was out there. She searched for anything that may look familiar to her.
Slowly, tiny outlines of leaves stood out in the black. Somewhere near she the unmistakable sound of running what, like stream or brook nearby. A gentle caw of birds feathered through the branches. Life was here, there was no mistaking it. The empty wood she had envisioned during her youth did not exist. She inhaled the crisp air and felt the forest for the first time—breathing in the life it kept.
“We are almost there,” Yeski said, still holding her hand as he helped her along. “Can you see it?”
Lysa looked, her eyes wide to find anything, but saw nothing. “No.” She strained her eyes. “What should I see?”
“Just wait.”
They stopped. Lysa could see an outline of trees in the distance from where they stood. They had reached an open space of great size. Little lights dances around her eyes, like the diamond dust of a crisp morning. She imagined it was from the strain of trying to see, but the lights didn’t go away. Instead they only moved faster, twirling around her eyes in spinning spirals.
“I see something,” she said, still trying to comprehend the lights. “What is it?” she stumbled in her words.
She felt a tight squeeze from the hand of Yeski. “Follow the lights.”
Lysa’s eyes focused on a twirling light before her. She reached her other hand up to trace it. Just like the diamond dust in the air it hesitated and never fell. The twirling became more excited and gently landed in the palm of her hand.
And as it did the light of the forest grew, an unknown source of wonder and power speckled the area. Suddenly the dark had light and glistened like the shine of a diamond.
And Lysa beheld everything.
They stood on the edge of an open meadow surrounded by trees. The trickling stream cascaded down moss covered rocks between the snowy ground. Illuminated sparkles glinted off the icicles from the falls, fresh with droplets.
Beyond the stream between the hillock and around the river bend, ornamented with the smoothed granite, sat what looked like a woodland throne. Vines swept around arches of stone, highlighting the ground with wonder and mystery.
From what Lysa could see the field was empty, but she had never see anything as lovely. She felt the hand of Yeski grip hers tighter.
“Your eyes have changed,” he stated. “You will see things differently as before.”
Lysa turned to him, as if she had never truly beheld his face before. A light resonating from an unknown source resonated within him. He had shared his word, a world Lysa never imagined. Yeski’s kind face lined with an unspoken worry. “It’s wonderful. May I come again?”
“If you wish, but come. It is time to get you back.”
Lysa resisted. “I am not ready to return home.”
Yeski took her hand again. He examined with his fingers. The light touch sent a sensation up Lysa’s arm until it jumped around her heart. She could no longer speak.
Yeski gently led her away from the meadow.
At the forest edge Yeski let go of her hand. Lysa suddenly felt cold and empty. She turned to find Yeski again looking at the stars now occupying the cracks between the clouds, the brightness of the waxing moon lining the edges like one spying on the secret world.
“Tomorrow?” Lysa asked without hesitation.
Yeski’s head turned toward her. His eyes filled with a mysterious sadness. “Yes. Tomorrow.” After a deep bow, he turned and entered the forest.
Lysa could hardly sleep. She closed her eyes and envisioned the glittery meadow and Yeski standing there with her. She remembered the gentle warmth of his hands and careful manner. She felt a warmth surround her unlike anything she had felt before, and she wasn’t sure if it was from feeling the magic of the forest or the light Yeski gave, but she understood it came from the same source. The idea of returning the next night consumed her thoughts, she barely slept.
As she dressed the next morning, Lysa opened her window to the cool morning air. The day was dazzling in white. The sun sent rays on the glittering new snow, clean and pure. She looked toward the forest and something moved. For a brief heart skip, Lysa thought it might be Yeski, but it was not. It was a faun, white like the snow, sniffing through the bushes, foraging for food. She focused hard on the animal. Never had she seen anything so beautiful, she had to tell her father.
Quickly she ran down the stairs to were her mother and father sat near the fire. “Look papa,” she rushed to the window looking for the creature. “A pure white faun.”
“Pure white?” he questioned. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, yes.” She grabbed his hand and helped him over to the window. Her mother soon followed after all the commotion. “Right there. By the bushes. I see it!”
Her father and mother stared.
“Do you see anything, dear?” her mother asked.
Her father looked at his daughter. “Are you sure you see it?”
“Do you truly not see it?” She pointed again. Her parents looked on searching for anything unusual.
Lysa stood staring at her parents. An unbelievable reality came over her. A remembrance of the words spoken by Yeski, ‘Your eyes have changed. You will see differently now.’
“I . . . I’m sorry you missed it.” She choked on her words. “It must have gone back into the forest.” She turned from them, hiding the humiliation and looked out the window gazing at the sweet creature.
Lysa excused herself without breakfast and traveled to the village square. A few people were out today, taking advantage of the sun. All the faces smiled upon her, as if seeing her for the first time. The old widow how sold roasted pine nuts stopped her and said, “You’re a pretty thing. There’s somethin’ dif’rent today. Must be the sunshine.”
Lysa agreed and smiled back, but these words troubled her. She was no different than she had been. She lived and breathed the same. And yet, she had seen and felt something she couldn’t explain.
As her eyes fell upon the square, Lysa took a quiet seat along a bench to watch other villagers. Among many villagers, one stood out to her, a young woman radiating in the square, dancing with a golden fiddle in her hand. The music sung to her soul, jovial and spirited. She had a green cloak like Yeski’s. Was it possible she was from the forest as well. Lysa had never seen this young woman before. She watched as no one stopped, not one. Not a soul looked at her or acknowledged her at all. Could they not hear the lilt of the strings?
As the girl danced and played she smiled toward Lysa. A kinship sparked; a familiarity came over her, something they shared. What was happening to her?
Lysa glanced at others in the village. A few green cloaks peppered among the crowd, people she had never paid attention to, had never seen in the village before. Forest folk were in the village? How could this be? She lived in two different worlds and had never known it.
The day drew long. Lysa couldn’t concentrate. At home, she felt distracted and kept silent. Her mother tried to talk with her, but she pretended to be fine. She knitted and spun and read and slept, all waiting for the time she could return to the forest—and see Yeski again.
Finally, as the sun hit the horizon and slowly sank in the sky, Lysa excused herself to her room, complaining about being tired and how she didn’t feel well. Her parents worried, but let her go all the same.
From her window Lysa waited impatiently for Yeski to appear. She wasn’t disappointed. The moment the sun hid in the sky, she laced up her boots, donned her cloak and climbed delicately out her bedroom window. She swung down the railing as she had as a child and sped toward the forest.
Yeski stood as he had the night before, his mystical demeanor radiated through his being. Lysa lit at the sight of him.
“Lysa,” he bowed in honor. He raised his head, but recognized the anxiety on her face. “Are you alright?”
She went to return her answer, a qu
ick, yes, fine, was ready at her lips—but she stopped. It wasn’t true at all. “I don’t know anymore.”
Yeski’s eyes took her in. “Then you have seen others like me.”
“Yes. I didn’t know. Why didn’t I know?”
“We live in this world, but do not belong in it. You recognize us know, because you know of us.”
He grabbed both of her hands this time. A thrill traveled down her spine at his touch. “Tonight is a full moon. We celebrate this night with a dance. Will you come with me?”
“Yes,” she said without a hint of hesitation.
“Come.” Yeski took her and led her along the path through the trees.
The darkness was gone. Everything within the forest had its own aura, its own light. She met creatures along the way, pleasant squirrels and song birds hailing them as they passed. The light within the meadow grew the closer they came. A song, one like the greeting song of morning, enchanted the air.
A warm sensation hit Lysa’s skin as the traces of the full moon entered in through the trees. Magical beams of glittering wind swept around her, changing her dark cloak to winter peach skin silk. Her dress whisked in a flurry to white rose petals, delicately landing in plumes, forming bustles, ruffles, and trails of lace. Her harsh, winter boots disappeared until her toes touched down on the warm garden grass. She felt as if in a dream.
When they reached the meadow the loveliness overcame her. The snow had been replaced with the green lush gardens of summer. Gold and silver lights floated through the air like butterflies. The river bubbled colors of darkest blue along the water’s edge, lining the archways and bridges across. It was not devoid of life, but filled with all manner of fey. Many people danced merrily to the mystical music. Other creatures – unicorns, water sprites, day pixies, all gathered to dance and sing.
Yeski offered her his hand to promenade her down the path, but she couldn’t move or think.
“It is all so wonderful,” she said in barely a whisper.
Yeski tightened his hold and smiled. “Come.”
He led her to the meadow floor. As Yeski walked before them, they all bowed low.
Lysa grew nervous. Who was Yeski to get this kind of attention?
He led her to the throne made of granite.
“Who are you?” Her question felt meaningless the moment it came from her mouth.
“I am a prince of the forest.”
Lysa suddenly grew nervous.
“No.” He patted her hand. “Do not look at me differently. Promise me. I’m a simple stargazer like you.”
“But,” she tried to think of the words. “I’m not like you.”
Yeski’s eyes captured her and held her in place. “You are exactly like me.” Without saying a word he led her to the dance floor. Without asking permission, he twirled Lysa around. The others rejoiced with him, which set the floor alive with dancing.
Lysa grew dizzy with delight. Yeski was handsome and beloved by all around him. She barely knew him, but felt as if she had known him all her life. They danced and sang and made merry
She left all care of her own life behind, forgetting the worries of her parents or the skeptical villagers. This new world of Yeski’s opened her up to something new beyond her comprehension.
The night grew late, but she continued to dance until the moon hung high above them. She hadn’t noticed the others disappear into the night, until it was only her and Yeski.
The music grew still, only the gentle rill of the river filled their ears. Yeski pulled back and gazed at her. His blue eyes held in so many unspoken thoughts, but she didn’t care. She understood where her heart lie. He leaned in and kissed her under the moonlight.
The world stopped for Lysa in that one moment. Every action became clear to her, every step, every motive. The stars had led her here to this moment. It was only her and him—a curious girl and a courageous boy.
He pulled back, embarrassed. “I should get you back.”
Lysa knew in her heart she had to return, but she couldn’t think what the next day would bring. But a question came to her lips, something she hadn’t expected to say. “Why me?” Why had he picked her over others in the forest? Why had he reached out of his world to hers?
Yeski took his hands around her face, a gentle gaze of his thumb along her cheek. “Because you love the moonlight.”
He kissed her again, deeply, a kiss which sent her mind spinning and heart pounding, a kiss which would change her destiny.
She returned to her home in the wee hours of morning. A light flickered in the window. Lysa suspected her father couldn’t sleep, had found her missing and had suspected he waited for her to return.
She entered quietly through the back door. As she turned toward the stairs someone called her name, but it was not her father. It was her mother.
“Yes, mama,” she entered the kitchen where she sat leaning on the table, her head in her hands.
She looked up as Lysa entered. “Headstrong girl. Where have you been?”
Lysa hadn’t expected such a direct question, but she respected her mother and stood tall. “I have been to the forest.”
Lysa’s mother snatched at the wooden table. “I told you it was forbidden.”
“You never told me why.” Lysa took a seat across from her mother and stared into the pained, aging eyes. “There is so much life there, such wonder I never knew before.”
A sliver of terror glinted in her mother’s eyes. “The life that you see is not real. It cannot be. Everyone who have entered the forest disappear.”
“But I won’t.” Lysa placed a gentle hand on her mother’s arm. “They are still around us all the time. You need to learn to look for them. I would never disappear from you.”
“But you will.” Lysa’s mother yanked her hand away, discussed. “Do you not know that I watch you dreaming in the moonlight? I was much like you as a girl. I felt as you do, that the world was bigger than I and it had to be explored.” She met her daughter’s gaze. Hate filled within them. “I was wrong. The moonlight is dangerous. Bad things live in that light.”
“Mama, the moonlight is not to be feared. It will not change me.”
“I beg you not return to the forest.”
Lysa stood from the table. “I cannot make that promise. I am in love with a prince of the woodlands.”
Tears weld in the corner of her eyes.
Lysa did not allow the emotion to weaken her. “He is changing my life for the better. He has given me what I have sought for my whole life. I will always ache if I stay here. I will always wonder.”
“You are already lost to me.” Her mother reached behind her to the wood block and with a strong arm, pulled the knife and held it between the two.
Lysa stood in shock. “You would rather have me die than to return to the forest?”
Lysa’s mother wiped her brow. “I do not want to live with the shame of having such a daughter.”
“Put there is no shame.” Lysa backed to the doorway. Fear pulsed around her body, she could not act or think. “But Papa. He will know what you’ve done.”
“He is not your papa,” her mother stepped closer. “Your father disappeared into the forest, like many others.”
The words spread through her without connection. “No. He is the papa I know and love. He is mine.”
“He was never yours.” Lysa’s mother came forward. The moonlight through the window graze her skin and she howled in pain. A gust of wind blew in the doorway, flooding the kitchen and surrounding her mother, blowing her wild tendrils in a frenzy. She tried to move forward but was held in place. She dropped the knife and grabbed at her wrist.
Lysa rushed to her room.
Yeski stood at her window, his eyes fell on her and if he knew everything her heart felt. His simple hand stretched forward. “Come.”
Lysa slipped her hand in his. She did not look back, did not say goodbye to life she knew or the father she loved. She climbed to the ledge of the window, embracing the moon at
its fullest, glittering all that it touched. The heat of Yeski’s body pressed against her side, reassuring of the path they would take. In one bound, they leapt together and disappeared in the night.
Before she found a new life and destiny, before she stood before the high druid proclaiming her love for the prince of the woodlands, before she cried at the loss of her father, before she bore the children of the king, and before she again grew in age and honor—Lysa sang a song, a song still carried by the wind, a song of love and hope and peace, a song you can hear on moonlit paths and fresh snowfall . . . a song for her father and mother.
“Through the wind and forest true,
My love for you, my love,
Shall ever ring in strings of blue,
Through the heavens look down on you.
I watch and kiss and care for you
From the moon above.
I’ll send with them my love.”
Other Books By
Candace J. Thomas
Young Adult Fantasy
The Vivatera Series
Vivatera
Conjectrix
Everstar
Paranormal Satire
Vampire-ish: A Hypochondriac’s Tale
Short Stories and Poetry
Of Snow and Moonlight
Wandering Beautiful
Non-Fiction
Six Simple Steps: Build A World
CANDACE J. THOMAS was raised by the wild, among the high peaks and winter snow of the mountains of Utah.
She is author of the award-winning VIVATERA series, VAMPIRE-ISH: A HYPOCHONDRIAC’S TALE, and several short fictions and poetry.
Candace is an ethereal thinker and often stands too close to the fire. She resides in Salt Lake City, Utah where you can find her in a hammock listening to fairy bells.
candacejthomas.com
Facebook.com/candacejthomas.author
Twitter: @cjtwrites
Instagram: @candacejthomas
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