“We shouldn’t have go where Tiyo told us.”
“He has the best sense of direction.”
“But he chooses longest paths!”
Tiyan indeed was choosing longest paths. For purpose. Forest was threaded by them many times, every part of it. The groves of birches, white and black bark, silent even during strongest wind. Old willows with long spindly branches hanging over the lake, like a wailing widows waiting for lost husbands. Mysterious but safe enough to fall in love with. A cozy mystery, draped with familiar trees, familiar paths, and beloved sunny spots, where they bathed in warm light. He wanted to taste every moment of being part of the woods. Bright and welcoming, it was his second home.
The forest around Inamora was sunlit and friendly. But the wilderness behind it – not at all. It dragged through many miles and him, Noyd and other children never even tried to delve into it. Even Bollen, the bravest and most curious kid in the group, didn’t even propose a journey into Kolemia woods. Kolemia was dark, dreadful place and even the line separating the Inamora forest with its thick overgrowth, looked like its earth was trampled by giants and left in hummocks to serve as divider between day and night.
Between light and darkness.
And maybe good and evil.
“Tiyo, how well you know this path?”
“This stream shouldn’t be here.”
Tiyan almost stumbled.
Yes. He chose another path when they left Inamora. He was almost sure it’s not the Willow Trail, leading to the pond. And rarely he mistaken.
Noyd silenced the group of children.
“It’s Tiyan. He knows.”
Of course. His guiding skills were almost legendary among his friends. But now, even him started to doubt, if he carries the group in the right direction.
They eventually entered the thicket, which Tiyan definitely didn’t remember. He took pride of knowing almost every tree in these woods. Now, he faced a failure and strange panic entered his heart. Not because he turned out to be an unreliable guide. But because he was almost sure something guides them instead of him and that – that was disturbing.
The birds still were singing. He could hear the steady sound of woodpecker and rustling of a small animal on the right. But he suddenly felt like the forest stopped…
… living.
“I hate hazel” mumbled Bollen, when a twig hit him just in the face and his foot was caught by an unseen root. “It sticks to everything.”
“Tiyo…”
“We are…”
“It’s weird path.”
“Curse this hazel!”
“We—-”
The clearing emerged from the thicket unsuspected and sudden. Before them a meadow spread, not big, but large enough to separate one part of the woods from another. The grass was darker here and almost covered with small violet flowers. They looked like a carpet over grass – and Tiyan thought for a second, that something moves under them.
“Look at these flowers” Noyd was known for liking to press flowers and leaves between two wooden boards, until they become dry and she could glue them to the paper and adorn her room.
“A lot of them” made an obvious observation Bollen.
“This meadow won’t cry after few I take then” the girl pouted and started to pick the tiny violets.
Tiyan though couldn’t stop feeling that something is not right. The clouds which were full and fluffy not long ago, now started look way too similarly to storm ones.
“Noyd… it can rain soon” he tried. “I do not want to stay in woods when the storm comes.”
“You are worrybummy” Bollen snorted and rushed through the blanket made of flowers. “At very least, you will get wet. Are you afraid of getting too wet, Tiyo?”
“No.”
“Tiyan fears rain, Tiyan fears rain” laughed the bigger boy but soon stopped putting needles into Tiyan’s pride and began to examine the meadows. Noyd in the meantime gathered a handful of flowers.
“You will press all?” Tiyan rose a brow in doubt.
“Of course not” Noyd’s smile was ever-knowing. “I will bring some for my mother. Our house will stop smelling of cats.”
Nacara, Noyd’s grandmother – who lived with the family – had too many cats. Tiyan always thought they smell bad, yes, but were so adorable that he could forgive them this slight discomfort. His father, Gravir, didn’t like cats, but held two dogs. Tiyan had to resort to visiting Noyd, to bury his face in the soft fur that smelled not of cats, but of dust and cobwebs.
When Bollen called, Tiyan was so close to pick one flower and offer him to Noyd so she had one from him in her collection, that the friend’s voice pushed a groan of disappointment from his chest.
“Look. Look what I found.”
Tiyan and Noyd approached, trying to not step on too many violets, still stepping on them, as that part of the meadow was almost invisible from under the thick cover they created.
The woods became silent.
The woodpecker stopped hitting with its beak into the bark.
The rustling animals suddenly stopped moving.
Before them lay a circle. Made of green mushrooms, was perfectly round. The mushroom legs were embraced by the dry black grass, like something drank the green from it, to make the shrooms greener. And mushrooms were very green. So green, that tree leaves looked grey next to them.
And in the very middle of the circle, there was a fern.
Blooming fern.
“Oh, goddess…”
Noyd reached to it, but Tiyan hit her delicately on the stretched fingers.
“Why?”
“It shouldn’t be here. Ferns don’t bloom.”
“And when they bloom…”
“… it’s a fairy tale.”
“Tiyo, it’s just a plant. I saw once apples growing on the pear tree.”
“It weren’t apples, Noyd” sighed Tiyan. “They were pears. They looked like apples, it’s a kind of pears that looks like apples.”
“Nevermind. Maybe this fern was touched by magic.” giggled Noyd. “And we will live forever or something as exciting, if we eat it.”
“Eating dirty plants asks for stomach pain.”
“Tiyo! Do not be so stiff.”
Bollen in the meantime lifted a foot but Tiyan, seeing it, pulled him by his shirt.
“Do not enter it. Do you not hear?”
Bollen narrowed brows.
“Do you hear birds? They stopped singing.”
But Bollen just shrugged and accompanied by Tiyan’s protests, he entered the mushroom circle.
“Fool” Tiyan shook his head.
“You are fool. It’s rare that fern blooms. Maybe Bollen can bring it to his sister and she will again talk to him.”
“It’s not normal that fern bloom. Especially surrounded by fluorescent mushrooms.”
“Shut up” Bollen cut the discussion and with one swift move, he picked the fern flower.
Tiyan was sure that woods would become even more silent. A storm will rage or at least a lightning will pierce the clouded air. But nothing like that happened. The woodpecker resumed its search for the beetles instead and a squirrel jumped at the tree nearby, pushing some leaves down.
“And here you have your magic” mocked Bollen. “I will give it to my sister. She can’t be angry, when I gift her something like that.
“Take the leaf too! So she knew it’s fern for sure.”
And Tiyan saw how the black grass slowly starts to untangle from the mushroom feet, reaching for Bollen’s boots. When he blinked, it again stuck thickly to its previous hosts.
*
One week later, Bollen Prechan disappeared and never came back.
Tiyan knew why. But no one would listen.
*
His eyelids were heavy as stone. When he managed to open them, he still lay in blood and guts of his dead sister. The fae leaned above him, with faces like gruesome masks – smiles too wide, eyes too eager, features too sharp. Like plastered to their faces, made of molten darkness. Tiny faeries and High Unseelie, all of them. And all of them focused on him like an audience waiting for his performance. One lower fae had few needles in her hand. Tiyan realized its her fingers.
The small faery was sitting on his chest, supporting himself on his chin. Playing with his lower lip, like it was a musical instrument. He was humming a song, which melody was too alien for Tiyan to follow or understand. His big green eyes looked like ponds, full of duckweed.
Duckweed…
“Will he puke?” he eventually cocked his head. “Puke or not? We love when they can’t hold it up.”
Tiyan threw up. A slush of crimson and brown. Eyes again filled with tears.
“Ah, what a joy! What a joyous deed! He couldn’t hold it up! Oh, the humans, always so intriguing!”