The Woods

by R. L. Toalson

  The creature rose up on its hind legs and gestured with its spindly arms. “I bet you have never seen anything like me before.” He seemed proud of this.

  Lenora pressed a hand to her lips, to keep another giggle trapped inside. He was only as tall as her ankle, and she had been afraid of him! “No,” Lenora said, when she was certain the laugh would not escape along with words. “I haven’t.”

  That’s when the Scorlaman did something astonishing. He grew before Lenora’s eyes, becoming as tall—no, somewhat taller—than she was. She gasped, terror rippling through her chest. “That’s because I am native to these woods,” the Scorlaman said. And when he saw that Lenora was about to run, he said, “Don’t worry. I am no danger to you. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

  And for some reason, Lenora believed him. “You live here, in Stonewall Woods?”

  The Scorlaman tilted his head. “Is that what you call them?”

  “It is their name,” Lenora said. That’s what Uncle Richard had called them, at least, and this land had never belonged to anyone but the Cole family.

  “No,” the Scorlaman said. “They have a different name.” His eyes flashed, and Lenora wondered what it meant. Was he angry with her for some reason? “These woods do not belong to the Cole family. They belong to the earth.”

  “My uncle calls them Stonewall Woods,” Lenora said.

  “He would, wouldn’t he?” the Scorlaman said. “He is a Cole.”

  Lenora said nothing.

  “Your uncle is mistaken about a great many things,” the Scorlaman said.

  Lenora folded her arms across her chest, feeling the urge, again, to defend her uncle. “Like what?” Her voice was sharp, challenging.

  The Scorlaman also folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me,” he said. His voice was smooth and calm. “Has your uncle told you these woods are dangerous?”

  Lenora jolted. “Yes.” She paused. “Are they?”

  “No.” The Scorlaman’s gaze glowed. “And I will show you, as I did his son.”

  “Bobby? You knew him? He came here?”

  “Yes,” the Scorlaman said.

  “He was lost in these woods,” Lenora said.

  “Not lost,” the Scorlaman said. “He was found.”

  “But he has been missing for many years.”

  “He had no desire to return.”

  Lenora pressed a hand to her forehead. Her other hand fluttered to her mother’s necklace.

  “What is that?” the Scorlaman said.

  Lenora’s hand stuffed the necklace under her dress. “Nothing.” Her head was spinning. “If Bobby is here, I must take him home.”

  “He is content to remain here,” the Scorlaman said.

  Lenora looked at the strange creature for a long time. She said, “I would like to see him.”

  “That could be arranged,” the Scorlaman said. “But first I must know that I can trust you.”

  Lenora frowned. “Of course you can.”

  “But I do not know you.”

  “I am Lenora,” she said.

  The trees rustled.

  The Scorlaman smiled, his golden eyes brightening. “And I am Bela the Scorlaman, keeper of Gilgevnah Woods.” The creature held out one hand. Lenora noticed he had only four fingers on it.

  “Gilgevnah Woods,” Lenora said as she took the warm, reptilian hand in hers. She tilted her head. “It is all so strange.” She gestured to Bela. “You, these woods, what my uncle has said about them.” She tried to make sense of what she remembered Uncle Richard saying, but her mind felt foggy and unfocused. Was it the woods, or was it simply a coincidence?

  “Your uncle has lost his mind,” Bela said. “It happened when he lost his family.”

  “No,” Lenora said. No. She wouldn’t believe it.

  “His son ran away from him,” Bela said. “Because of his madness.”

  Lenora looked at Bela. She could not tell for sure if what he said was true. So she said, “I would like to talk to Bobby myself.”

  “In time,” Bela said. “First we must see to a few things.”

  “And my father?” Lenora said. The words scraped across her chest. Her father’s voice had brought her here. Where was he?

  “Your father?” Bela said, a look of confusion—or so Lenora thought—on his face.

  “I heard my father’s voice,” Lenora said. “He is here, I think.”

  Bela said nothing.

  “Will you help me find him?”

  Bela turned away. “There are many oddities that exist in the world that people never notice,” he said, as though he had not heard her at all. “The creatures and wonders in Gilgevnah Woods are only seen by those we choose to reveal ourselves to.” He looked back with something that could be called a smile, his flat teeth the same color as everything else on his body: pale pink. And perhaps it was the loneliness, or perhaps it was the overwhelming sorrow that had burdened her these last several days, but Lenora found that she smiled back at him.

  “These woods are not as dark as my uncle said they were,” Lenora found herself saying. The woods had, indeed, brightened considerably. She could see grass glistening on the ground as though each blade carried a small diamond.

  “They are only dark if you cannot truly see,” Bela said.

  “See what?”

  “The magic.” Bela turned his back on her and began walking deeper into the woods.

  “I do see,” Lenora said, following him slowly. “It is . . .” She had no words for it.

  Bela’s skin glowed a brighter pink.

  Then Lenora heard her uncle’s warning in her mind—it was unexpected, and somewhat unwelcome now. Stay away from the woods.

  Why? she wanted to yell back.

  “Why would my uncle warn me to stay away from something as wondrous as these woods?” Lenora wondered aloud. She hardly felt herself saying the words at all. They felt flimsy in her mind, as though they were not hers but someone else’s.

  It was strange and intoxicating.

  “You will know in due time,” Bela said. “And I fear you will not like the answer.” He stopped and turned, his golden eyes glinting. Lenora’s heart squeezed, lurched, then thudded. “You must not tell your uncle you have been here.”

  “Why not?”

  Bela’s face twisted into an expression that was difficult for Lenora to decode. She had never seen a creature like this one—a creature that could talk and walk and express emotion. “He does not wish us well.” Bela spun on his heel again. “But that is a story for another day. Today is for showing you wonders.”

  Though her heart pounded and her skin prickled, Lenora followed.

  36

  Doubts began soon after Lenora lost her sense of direction. It was easy in the woods, with the trees everywhere. She should have brought bread crumbs or something. She should have turned around immediately. She should turn around now.

  The minutes passed, and the doubts grew louder.

  How would she emerge from the woods without being seen? What would Uncle Richard say or do if he found out where she’d been? Would he send her away? Would she be confined to her room, to more loneliness?

  That would be an agonizing consequence—not just because of the solitude, but because now she had seen the diamond grass and the swaybacked trees and the friendly Scorlaman.

  And there was more—so much more. She saw waist-high flowers with blooms that looked like brilliantly colored pillows and made her feel as though she were walking in a fairy forest. She asked Bela if fairies existed in these woods, because she’d always been intrigued by the little creatures (they defied her scientific mind, but that didn’t matter; they were lovely), but Bela said that Gilgevnah Woods was not home to any creatures like fairies. They were too common, and this was an uncommon wood.

  Bela must have noticed the troubled look on her face at his confession; he quickly amended it with, “Have no fear, Lenora. I will remain by your side to protect you from whatever might wish to do you harm.
There is not much in these woods that would harm you, but if you do not know their danger, you might mistakenly touch something that you should not touch.” He pointed to a grove of mushrooms that glowed in bioluminescent colors when he and Lenora entered the small clearing. “Take these mushrooms, for example,” he said. “You must not touch them. They are poisonous to your kind.” He tore off a piece of one, and the mushroom shrieked before immediately growing another appendage. He smiled. “For me, however, they are quite tasty.” He stuffed the piece in his mouth and chewed.

  Lenora felt the joy bubbling up inside her. It was so good to have company, to take her mind off her family, to know that she was not alone.

  Bela took her to another, larger clearing, where what appeared to be the wispy petals of dandelions hung and swayed in the air, suspended by strings she could not see. “What is this?” she asked.

  “These are the thistle creatures,” Bela said. “They will not harm you.”

  “They are alive?”

  “Look closely,” Bela said. Lenora squinted. She could see their faces. She could hear their voices.

  “Hello, Lenora,” they said in a whisper-like hum.

  Lenora once again wondered how her uncle, a man of science, could not love this place. In these woods were creatures both ancient and altogether new. How could he not see the potential for new scientific species? She wished she had a jar so she could take something home with her, show it to him, convince him the woods were simply magical woods.

  Bela must have known what she was thinking. He said, “The creatures of this forest die as soon as they are taken outside the woods.”

  “Why?”

  “They are sustained by these woods. It provides everything they need.”

  Lenora looked at the white creatures all around her. The scene could be mistaken for a still photograph of a snowy day in a shadowed wood. But the strangeness of it caught in her throat. She felt such an unexpected—and unexplainable—sense of alarm that she spoke in a shaky voice, the words spilling all over one another. “I must return to Stonewall Manor.”

  Bela folded his arms across his chest and frowned. “So soon?” he said.

  “Yes.” Lenora’s voice was barely a whisper. She did not want to return. She wanted to stay here, with these people—creatures—who made her feel like she was less alone in the world. But she could not make her uncle worry. She said, “It will be supper soon. I must not keep my uncle waiting or he will wonder where I’ve been.” She tried to think of what might sway Bela to make him release her.

  Was she a prisoner here? The idea frightened her. Yes, the woods were lovely, but she did not want to stay if she could not freely go.

  She said, “He will come looking for me.”

  Bela’s face shifted into a smile. “Ah,” he said. “I see you have come to understand the importance of keeping what you find in these woods a secret.”

  Lenora did not answer.

  “I will take you back,” Bela said.

  “And will I be able to come again?”

  “The woods will always welcome you, Lenora,” Bela said. The trees punctuated his words with a gush that crackled the leaves. “Provided you say nothing about it.” Bela gestured around him. “This would all go away if the world knew about it.”

  “Why?”

  “It is the way of a magical wood. It is the way of anything in the world. You find something exquisitely marvelous. You get used to it, take it for granted. You forget that it is exquisitely marvelous. And it disappears.”

  Is that what Lenora had done with her family? Become too used to them, taken them for granted? Was it Lenora’s failure to see them as exquisitely marvelous that had taken them away? Her throat burned, and her vision smudged at the edges.

  “You have much sorrow, Lenora,” Bela said.

  “I miss my family,” Lenora said. She swallowed the thickness in her throat. “But they will be here soon.” Her voice cracked around the words, and she looked down at her feet.

  “These woods could heal your sorrow,” Bela said. “It is part of their magic.”

  Lenora looked up into his gleaming golden eyes. “How?”

  Bela studied her for a moment before saying, “You must come deeper into the woods.” His golden eyes glowed like tiny suns.

  They were already in the grove of sitting trees. A bell clanged. Lenora’s head cleared, and the woods looked darker. She felt a heavy sense of dread, though she could not explain it.

  “I must go,” she said.

  “We will see you again,” Bela said. He returned to his four legs. Lenora turned away. “Remember, Lenora.” Lenora turned back. Bela was shrinking. “These woods are made to provide companionship and happiness. But for that, we will have to venture deeper.”

  Without another word, he vanished completely.

  “Bela?” Lenora said, but there was no answer. The woods darkened to black, as though its golden light was extinguished with the disappearance of its keeper. Lenora ran toward Stonewall Manor as fast as her legs could carry her.

  37

  As the stone walls loomed closer, Lenora slowed. The day was much drearier than it had been before she entered the woods. She stood outside the elaborate entrance, marked by six steps and a wooden porch along the length of the house, and stared, trying to find some sign of life. Not even fireflies glowed around the mansion. It was as devoid of life as any abandoned home would be.

  As her home back in Texas City might be.

  No. She would not think about that.

  Lenora lifted her chin. If the people inside Stonewall Manor did not wish to engage with her, then she would find her companionship in the woods. They could not deny her that.

  “What’s keeping you, love?” Mrs. Jones stood at the entrance, one hand on the door. Her face held questions. “And where have you been?”

  “In the garden.” Lenora had never liked lying, but sometimes it served a purpose. She couldn’t tell Mrs. Jones about the woods. She wouldn’t risk her only chance at happiness.

  She knew she could not find happiness within these walls.

  Mrs. Jones pulled Lenora into the kitchen. “You’ll eat with me tonight,” she said. Her eyes were shadowed, secretive.

  “Where is Uncle Richard?”

  Mrs. Jones busied herself with the food, dishing a heap of mashed potatoes onto Lenora’s plate. “Gravy, love?” Lenora nodded. When Mrs. Jones had finished with the crispy chicken and steamed carrots, she sat with her hands folded and her head bowed. Her lips moved, but she didn’t say words aloud. Lenora stared at her. When Mrs. Jones finished, she said, “Your uncle had to take an unexpected trip.”

  “Where?” Lenora’s heart fluttered. Had her parents finally contacted Uncle Richard? Would she be going home now?

  And then she felt a blast of anger. Why had he not taken her with him?

  Mrs. Jones waved at the food. “Eat, before it gets cold.” And then: “It is none of our concern where your uncle goes. He will return in a few days.” Her voice wavered.

  “But you said Uncle Richard never goes anywhere,” Lenora said.

  Mrs. Jones scowled at her plate.

  “Did he find my parents?” Lenora said. “Will they be coming back with him?”

  Mrs. Jones’s head snapped up, and her eyes grew soft and moist. She shook her head, and Lenora’s heart thumped. Mrs. Jones opened her mouth, but nothing came out, and Lenora was glad. She inserted into the empty space a question that would keep Mrs. Jones from telling her what she feared, which was that her parents would never be found and Texas City was not at all where Uncle Richard had gone. “Did he drive his car?”

  “Your uncle doesn’t drive,” Mrs. Jones said matter-of-factly. “Not anymore.”

  “He used to?”

  Mrs. Jones didn’t answer.

  The clock above them chimed. They were late for supper by fifteen minutes.

  Lenora almost asked why Uncle Richard didn’t drive anymore when Mrs. Jones said, “You should be glad your
uncle isn’t here. He would not have liked your tardiness to supper.” Mrs. Jones tried to arrange her face into a stern mask, but she was much too gentle. Lenora could see through the act. She almost smiled. Mrs. Jones would make a lovely grandmother.

  “The garden needs quite a bit of work,” Lenora said. “I wanted to make some progress.”

  “Yes, well.” Mrs. Jones turned her attention to her food, though she only picked at it. Lenora could tell something was bothering Mrs. Jones. Had she seen Lenora come out of the woods?

  The woods. With Uncle Richard gone, she would be free to roam the woods for the next several days.

  “When will Uncle Richard return?” Lenora tried as well as she could to wrap innocence around the words.

  “The day after tomorrow,” Mrs. Jones said. She narrowed her eyes at Lenora, seeing right through the innocence. “Why?”

  Lenora shrugged and looked down at her plate. “I’d like to have the garden cleaned up by then. I think he would like to see it as it used to be.”

  Mrs. Jones’s face softened at that, and Lenora knew she had chosen the exact right words. She felt somewhat guilty for the lie, and to atone for it, she would make sure she did clean up the garden. She could not spend all her time in the woods, after all. There were many hours in a day.

  After supper was done she helped Mrs. Jones with washing up and then retreated to her room to consider all she had seen.

  It was much too wonderful to forget.

  38

  The next day, Lenora woke early, eager to slip away, unnoticed, into the woods. With Uncle Richard gone, she didn’t have to fear discovery. Mrs. Jones was much too busy with the dusting and cooking at Stonewall Manor to be concerned with what Lenora was doing all day. Lenora planned her grand escape with a cover: She would sit in the library for a time. She would bang on the piano. She would let Mrs. Jones see her in the garden. And then she would disappear into the woods.

  Breakfast was much too quiet. Mrs. Jones was already somewhere else in the manor. Lenora missed friendly conversation; her thoughts turned, naturally, to Bela.

  Perhaps she didn’t need the cover plan and could, instead, return immediately to the woods.