The Tangled Forest

by Marion Grace Woolley

  “Oh.”

  I looked up at him. He rolled his eye to look down at me.

  “Well, it doesn’t sound as though you deserve to be stuck in a tree for that.”

  “No, quite. So, you’ll help me?”

  I nodded and reached under my skirt for the breadknife.

  “Hold still, I don’t want to hurt you,” I said.

  I sliced just above where he held his beard, a couple of inches from his chin. As I went to slice again, he cried out.

  “No! Not a second time from that side.”

  “What?”

  “The other side. Angle the knife, otherwise it’ll look lopsided.”

  I sliced down on the other side and he fell backwards, landing in the spring. When he stood up, his britches were soaked at the buttocks. I placed a hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh.

  “Yes, very funny,” he said, dusting down his tunic.

  “Thank you, would be fine.”

  “Thank you,” he said, grudgingly.

  “Right. Well, I must be getting back to my friends. You go straight home now, and no more telling women they’re pretty in the woods.”

  He nodded and I turned away. Just as I reached the path, he called out.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Rose,” I replied.

  “Rose?”

  “Yes.”

  “Rose.”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re very pretty.”

  He gave a cheeky wink and walked away.

  I returned to our clearing to find my sister furious. She had never looked at me like that in all our lives.

  “Where were you?” she cried, as I emerged through the trees.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong? We woke to find you gone! We thought you’d been carried off by beasts in the night. I’ve been frantic.”

  “I just followed the stream to bathe.”

  She couldn’t swallow her worry, so burst into tears.

  “Oh, sweet sister o’ mine,” I said, throwing my arms about her and kissing her cheek. “I never meant to fright you so.”

  “You shouldn’t go wandering off,” the bear said. “There are strange beings in this wood.”

  His words irritated me. I understood my sister’s love, but his concern were unwelcome. There was nothing stranger in these woods than him.

  “I’m fine,” I replied, vowing to keep my adventure to myself.

  “What would I have done if you didn’t come back?”

  “I’ll always come back,” I whispered, kissing my sister’s cheek.

  We set off in silence that morning. Snow and the bear walked ahead with me trailing behind like a naughty child. I was beginning to detest the bear. The more of a sweetheart he became to my sister, the more like a father he acted towards me. I had lived my life just fine without a father. I didn’t need one with four paws who stank of wet dog.

  WHITE

  Of all the people ever born, I thought I could trust my sister. How could she be so irresponsible? How could she be so careless of my feelings, to go walking off in the woods without a word, leaving me to wake and worry?

  My anger hadn’t passed by noon. When Bern pulled strips of dried pork from his satchel, I chewed in sullen silence.

  “Forgive her,” Bern said, when my sister went to relieve herself. “She didn’t mean to scare us, and I’m sure she won’t do it again.”

  “She has no idea what she means to me,” I replied.

  “Oh, I’m sure she does. And I’m sure you mean the same to her.”

  “But I would never walk off in the night and leave her wondering where I went.”

  “Perhaps. Though, perhaps she feels you have.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Snow, I cannot play with your heart, as I know you are too good to play with mine. I feel a closeness has grown between you and I these past weeks. I feel a fondness it may not be proper to feel.”

  “I feel the same,” I answered, without hesitation.

  The words surprised me with the speed they left my lips, yet my heart rejoiced.

  “You do?”

  “With every moment of my being. I feel as though my soul is singing each time we lie close to one another.” Bern nodded, but the smile I expected did not follow. “What is it?”

  “You cannot know the gladness I feel on hearing that, Snow. Yet, I fear, as obvious as our feelings are to one another, they are equally as obvious to Rose. She believes I am taking you from her.”

  “She would never think that—”

  “She does.”

  I reflected upon it then. From the very first moment she had met Bern, she had called him a beast. She walked behind us on the path, she wandered off as though she felt I wouldn’t note her absence, she never passed a kind word towards him.

  “My goodness. You are right.”

  It hurt me that I had hurt my sister, and I knew not how to repair us.

  “Go to her,” Bern said. “Forsake me if you must, for your sister’s love was there long before mine.”

  “I will not turn away from you,” I replied, the very thought of it causing my body to ache as though with fever.

  “Then you must be firm about what you want, but kind. Reassure her. Tell her everything she means to you, and tell her that I am second in your affections, but that I am in your affections.”

  “What if she will not accept that?”

  “Then there is nothing left you can say. Talk to her, hold her, and if she will not yield, allow time.”

  “How long?”

  “As long as it takes. Days, perhaps weeks, perhaps months, perhaps years.”

  When Rose returned, we continued walking. This time, I fell in step with her, slowing my feet that we might talk as we travelled.

  “I’m sorry,” I told her. “I should not have lost my temper.”

  “That’s all right. I should not have walked away.”

  “It’s just—”

  “You love me, I know.”

  I smiled at her, the conversation proving easier than I had expected.

  “And I also—”

  “Love the beast, I know.”

  “I do wish you’d stop calling him that.”

  “What else am I supposed to call him?”

  “Bern would be fine.”

  She shrugged. “I saw you sleeping beside the fire this morning. You looked very peaceful. There was even a smile on your lips.”

  I felt my face flush. “It doesn’t bother you?”

  “Not really.”

  “You don’t feel like I’m—”

  “Leaving me behind?”

  “Is that what you’d call it?”

  “No, but I know that’s what you fear. I’m happy for you, really.”

  “You are?”

  She nodded and skipped a little as she stepped.

  “So, what did you find in the woods this morning? Anything of interest?” I asked.

  “No, not particularly. Just the start of the stream and a few pretty flowers.”

  That evening we camped in a very strange glade. A circle of silver birches rose tall about us. On every third or fourth tree, someone had nailed a set of stag antlers. They looked like tree branches themselves, all roughly the same length with tips capped in silver.

  “What is this place?” I asked, as we entered.

  “It’s an old hollering place. The woods seem empty, but there are people who live in them. Hunters and gatherers, and strange folk with even stranger ideas. This is a meeting spot.”

  “Will they pass tonight?”

  “No. These places are hardly ever used now. The old ways are mostly forgotten, and those who practise them do so like old men, clutching at half-remembered things and whispers passed down through the trees. Once a blue moon they’ll gather together and speak, but not this far out on the edges.”

  “The edges?” my sister said, suspicious. “We’ve been walking for days.”

  “The fores
t goes on for months.”

  “And the castle?”

  “We’ll get there soon enough.”

  “What’s this?” I asked, walking to a tree on the far side, the one with the largest antlers.

  There, rested up against its shimmering trunk, was a fistful of starflowers, tied together with a piece of twine and a red feather.

  Bern came to my shoulder and lifted the bunch.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Perhaps somebody is expecting someone to pass this way? But don’t worry. Anyone here to collect flowers isn’t likely to start a fight.”

  I took the flowers from him and placed them back down. My sister stared at them whilst I tried to decide where to build a fire.

  That night, the flames glinted off the silver-tipped horns like owl eyes.

  “Not to alarm you,” Rose said, “but I’m going to lift my skirts and I may be some time. Please don’t think I’ve wandered away.”

  I laughed and waved my hand to shoo her.

  Once she was gone, I sat down beside Bern to listen to the wood crackle and spit.

  “Did you talk to her?” he asked, his whiskers so close to my ear that they tickled.

  “Yes. It went much better than I expected. She’s happy for us, truly she is.”

  “She is?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you are happy for us?”

  “So happy,” I said, smiling my contentment into the flames.

  “Then there is something I would like to say.”

  “What—”

  He turned my head towards him and pressed his lips to mine.

  The heat of the fire slid like a butter knife up through my middle to my heart. I melted into him, my hand reaching up to hold his face.

  RED

  The moment I saw the flowers, I knew they were for me.

  As much as I’d lied for my sister’s sake, telling her it bothered be naught that she loved a bear and chose to walk beside him and not me, there were a certain advantage to this. The more absorbed they became in one another, the freer I would be to wander in the woods without the tears and tantrums of that morning. Pretending I needed to ease my bowels, I slipped off between the trees with only my senses to guide me.

  As the light of the fire dimmed behind, a new light winked through the branches. The wonderful glow of those mushrooms again. Tiny lanterns lighting the path. Fireflies and marsh stars floated in the still air, and I realised with cold caution how easy it would be to walk off into the woods, enchanted, and never return. Had that happened to our father?

  “Hey, Princess,” I heard a hiss through the dark.

  Turning, all I could see were shadows.

  “Where are you?”

  “Here,” he said, stepping out of the trees behind me.

  The man was even taller up close, without his back stooped to the tree. He’d tidied up his beard to a neat little point and the feather went missing from his cap.

  “How did you know we’d come this way?”

  “Did you see any turnoffs along the path?”

  “I can’t remember. I don’t think so.”

  “And you’re going to the castle, right?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because there’s never any other reason people like you walk through the woods.”

  “People like me?”

  “People who look like they don’t belong here.”

  “And you do, all tangled up in a tree, unable to look after yourself?”

  “Ouch,” he said, wincing.

  “Why are you following us, anyway?”

  “I’m not following them, I’m only following you.”

  “The question’s still good.”

  “You set me free.”

  “Exactly, now go and be free. Go off into the woods and do whatever it is people like you do.”

  “People like me?”

  “Gangly, bearded and really bad with women.”

  He laughed, a sharp, derisive laugh. “You really are a princess.”

  “I’m not a princess. I’m just an ordinary girl from the valley.”

  “Well, ordinary girl from the valley, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “What’s your name? I never did ask.”

  “Franz.”

  “And where do you come from, Franz?”

  “Oh, a long, long way away.”

  “That’s where everything seems to be.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Nothing.”

  “So, what will you do when you get to the castle?” Franz asked. “Planning to marry a prince?”

  “Like heck. I’m not that interested in the castle. It’s just an excuse.”

  “For what?”

  “To look for our father. My sister and me, we never knew him. He were a trapper, walking the woods half the year. One time, he walked out and never returned.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Sixteen summers.”

  Franz lifted his cap and scratched the back of his head.

  “And, uh. What did your father look like?”

  “I don’t know. We don’t have a picture. Our mother said he was tall. Maybe as tall as you. Dark of hair, too. The bear thinks he was funny.”

  “And you haven’t seen him in all this time?”

  “No. Why, does he sound familiar?”

  “What? No. Absolutely not. Look, it’s getting late and you’ve a long way to go to the castle. I’d best leave you to your beauty sleep. Lord knows you need it.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” He winked.

  “You are a bad person,” I said, through my smile.

  “I’m a lovely person. You’d do well to remember that.”

  With those words, he sauntered off into the trees.

  By the time I returned to the fire, my sister was already curled up fast asleep between Bern’s paws. The beast was breathing deeply, his huge chest rising and falling like bellows. I lay down and placed my hands beneath my head, but I could not drift off. The man I had saved from the tree niggled me. I’d never expected to see him again after cutting him loose, though I found his story intriguing. Who was this Lady of the Forest? Had he known she could curse him before he opened his mouth?

  Was she prettier than me?

  That thought shocked me wide awake. Why should I care who she was or how pretty she looked? The man was ridiculous, tied to a tree by his own beard. Did it matter he was handsomely tall, or that he walked with a swagger, or that his moustache resembled those paintings in books of gallant knights?

  Attractive as the Lady of the Forest must be, it were me he followed through the forest, and me he left a bundle of flowers.

  I smiled as sleep crept upon me.

  WHITE

  We walked for several days, through dark forest and light, along flat ground and hilly, between thick trees and thin. Somehow, Bern always managed to keep our bellies full, and to find us somewhere comfortable to sleep at night. The further into the woods we wandered, the lighter his steps became. Some days, he even sang as we walked. Strange songs of history that I had never heard before.

  The nights became difficult. Our desire for each other had only grown stronger by speaking it. When I lay beside him at night, I could feel his want against my back. I felt ashamed, but did not move away. If only Rose were not here, I’d think to myself, and in thinking it, the shame threatened to devour me.

  I wished I had not been so harsh on her that morning when she had wandered off, for now we would have been glad of her exploring by herself, if only for a short time.

  Each day, Rose would ask ‘how much further to the castle,’ and Bern’s answer was always ‘less far than it was yesterday.’ This answer made me laugh at first but, like my sister, I longed for an honest answer. Both my sister and I had grown thin on our travels. Even fully laced, our dresses felt loose about our ribs.

  Then, one day, after we had walked until noon, Bern stopped and tur
ned to us.

  “We are halfway to the castle,” he announced.

  “Only halfway?” Rose asked, her disappointment plain.

  “I know you’re both exhausted, but I promise, you’ll love the Royal City. There’ll be soft beds, piping hot bathhouses, pies with every filling you can name, sweet and savoury—”

  “Stop!” Rose cried. “Don’t torture us with it.”

  Bern laughed and reached into his satchel, tossing her a parcel of roasted pignuts we’d found on the forest floor. She caught it, turning up her nose in disgust.

  “A little further ahead, the path splits,” he told us. “Tonight, I must go left, and you go right.”

  “I don’t understand. You’re leaving us?” My eyes widened in alarm.

  “Only for one night, and I promise, you’ll find safety at the end of that path. A proper log cabin, with a fireplace and a tin bath and a little stream beside it for the water. There will be food in the pantry and a soft bed to sleep in.”

  “How can you possibly know all of this?” Rose asked.

  “Because it is my house.”

  “And where will you sleep?”

  “There is a friend of mine. So old he can no longer rise from his bed. Whenever I am passing, I take game for his pot and sit awhile.”

  “We could come with you to keep him company,” I suggested.

  “Alas, no. He lost his wife half a century past. The sight of women, especially those as youthful and pretty as yourselves, causes him great heartache. He prefers his own company, and if he must share his pot, only the company of other men will do.”

  “Oh.”

  I looked at Rose. I could tell she found this as odd as I did, but she shrugged her resignation.

  Just as he said, a few yards down the path to the right we found a beautiful log cabin. Bern must have been gone a lifetime, yet the place looked fresh. The area in front of the entrance had been swept, a large pile of wood sat beside a freshly blackened grate, the scent of the polish lingering like the memory of hard work. The windows gleamed and the window boxes sprouted dainty red flowers. Inside, the logs on the floor had been halved and polished to create a flat surface with decorative knots deep within the timber.

  “How lovely,” I whispered, trailing my fingers along the rough bark walls. At the back, a door opened onto a small bedroom with a proper bed. I threw myself down, laughing as I bounced on its plump covers. “Oh, Rose. What a thing to call this home.”