“Why not?”

“Because, child, it is forbidden.”

“Why is it forbidden?” Millie looked up at the elder. He was patient, and could see in her eyes, her countenance, that she was not being defiant, merely curious; As the young always are.

“It is forbidden because it is forbidden, that is all you need know for now, child. Stay clear of Gau-Do, little one. Nothing good can come from it.”

Millie stood in the watchtower next to the Elder-on-Watch, the base Sergeant-at-Arms, Andre Djilas. He was called an elder, but that always struck Millie as a silly name, since most of the ‘Elders’ were about the same age as her older brother, Jenex. She wasn’t even sure if Andre needed to shave more than once-a-week yet. But, he was the elder in the tower at the moment, so he was as good a conversational partner as any.

“But, you’ve never been, you know, close to it?”

Andre looked down at her. Not annoyed—he was glad to have the company, the evening watches seemed to take forever when he was alone—but in no mood to cover ground that used to be covered during the Lessons.

“No closer than this, and this is close enough.”

“You’ve seen it, though?”

“Of course I’ve seen it.”

Millie’s eyes grew wide. “You have? What does it look like?”

“You serious? You can see it whenever you want. It’s right there.” Andre pointed past the open field, past the river, to a tree-line of evenly-spaced conifers.

Millie looked and looked, but saw nothing. “Where?”

“Here,” Andre said, handing her his binos, “look there, just past that rock that looks like Director Riggan.”

Oh my, she thought, it really did look like Director Big Nose (as the children had secretly called him for as long as he’d been in charge of the Academy). Millie was about to ask how to change the focus when her finger found the knob. She scanned east from the rock, into the trees.

There! She saw something! Something moving, slowly, lumbering around, frustratingly staying just behind enough flora-trash to never quite be visible.

She began to pick up pieces of images, putting them together in her mind like a puzzle. It was big, round-backed, furry. The fur was a dark-dark red. It walked on all fours—wait, but it could stand, reach, like a man—then back to all fours. Its limbs looked massive, strong. It had little round ears on top of its head, but she still hadn’t seen its face.

Wait!

It was about to come into a clearing. It was going to—

“Okay, that’s enough.” Millie felt the tug of the strap against the back of her neck as Andre pulled the binoculars, “I need those back.”

“But—“

“I’m on duty, kid.”

Millie spent weeks—how many, she didn’t know exactly—going to the tower, sitting atop the overcrossing, getting kicked off of rooftops, trying desperately to catch another glimpse of Gau-Do. She wasn’t sure at first if it was merely her need to complete the task, having come so frustratingly close that night in the tower, or if there was something else drawing her toward the creature. She stopped caring about the why, though, and become singularly focused on completing the mission she’d given herself.

It was getting close to Frost Season. Millie was still at it, still trying, still sneaking her father’s looking glass, still straining her eyes. She knew that she was running out of time, at least until The Warming started, some months later. You can have one more—okay, three more—days spent like this, she told herself. It took one-and-a-half.

Morning.

She was supposed to be feeding the chickens and collecting the eggs, but instead, she went to the same watchtower where she’d first seen the creature.

Gau-Do.

The thing she was to fear.

Elder Binton was on duty. She was also leaning her back against the wooden lodge pole walls, fast asleep. Even Millie knew the harsh penalties for falling asleep on duty and didn’t want to get the elder in trouble, but she wasn’t quite ready to wake up the corporal—not until she’d had her look. Too many questions. She’d make sure to wake up Bindy before she left, though. (She was nice, always had candy or ice cream to share with the Littles.)

Millie slipped of her shoes and padded past the sleeping guard, pulling her father’s looking glass from her satchel, and began where she’d left off: Mr Big Nose rock. She scanned the tree-line, looking for any sign of movement. Millie’s heart nearly stopped when Bindy shifted her weight, but a too-loud snore and ‘grumphalable’ let her know that the young woman was still happily dreaming, probably of warmth and pillows and blankets.

Then it happened. The movement was subtle, but definite. She spotted it naked-eyed, while scanning for other landmarks. Millie quickly brought up the glass to where she’d seen the Creature and—

“Shit!”

Her hand instinctively shot up, covering her mouth. She looked around for the briefest moment before laughing to herself. Who would chastise her for foul words up here, she thought? No instructors, no parents. Just a sleeping guard, who had other, more pressing things to concern herself with, should anyone of authority come their way.

Once she had re-centered, it hit her what had caused her reaction.

Gau-Do.

It had been looking directly at her.

She wanted to go back and look, to see if she was right; But she also really, really didn’t want to.

The former won out, and Millie turned her head, her eyes finding the familiar landmarks, slowly traveling along the opening between trees and river, until she was looking eye-to-eye with a massive, dark red bear.

“Hello, Millie.”

It’s a strange thing, talking to a bear. Millie, had this story been relayed to her by a friend, would have laughed it off as a silly prank, a lie, or maybe a sign that her friend needed to go to the medical tent. But no, it was real. And she was fine, as far she could tell. Nope, it wasn’t fake; She was talking to a big red bear.

Well, sort of.

Gau-Do didn’t talk, not like a human talks, but she could hear him nonetheless. His voice was deep, powerful, ancient. His giant mouth didn’t move but to eat, to chew, and he made no effort to move toward the fort so as to be heard more clearly. Yet, she could hear him as clearly as if he was standing next to her in the watch tower. And he could hear her, too, but only if she actually spoke. That took some time, an unnatural way to communicate. But she quickly adapted: Listening to the gruff words of the giant bear bounce around her mind; Speaking her responses as though they were sharing warm caff-drink in her mother’s public house.

And they’d been talking—familiarly, as though long-lost friends—for some time.

“No, Millie, you are the only one,” the beast said. “Everyone else looks down on me from atop the mighty watchtowers and assumes I am the worst of things, the grandest danger. But not you. You see me as I am.”

“What’s that?” Millie turned, her own voice seemingly overly-loud all of the sudden, but Binton was still conked out.

“I am merely a truth-bringer, a mirror, if you will, to society. So, I suppose, to those who are afraid of the truth, or afraid of seeing who they are, maybe I am dangerous. But to you, young one, I am merely a friend.”

Millie looked at the big bear. He did LOOK dangerous. But what if they were wrong? What if those sharp teeth were merely tools so that the bear might not starve, much like the knives they used in the Hall to cut meat into bite-sized portions? What if those long, scary claws on those massive, strong paws were but tools to help the bear dig through dirt and bark to find food when the bigger meals were not available? Should he starve so as not to be seen as scary? Should he reduce his massive frame—the very thing that keeps him atop the food chain—to become less frightening, even if it makes him vulnerable to predators?

“No…” she said, out loud to no one.

Millie and Gau-Do spent the next few months developing a friendship. She shared with him her plans for the future, her likes and dislikes about the hardscrabble, self-determined life the Fort offered. He shared with her how, with a little bit of agreed upon sharing of resources, there could be enough for all, plus enough to share. She talked to him of her everyday life; He talked to her of how to improve her lot, to not be stifled by such silly things as hierarchy or class structure or arbitrary societal rules.

“You have taught me so much,” Millie offered, one sunny afternoon.

“Perhaps, young one, but you have taught me as well. I only wish—“

“What?”

“Oh, nothing, child. Nothing.”

“No, you were going to say something. You wish for something. What is it?”

“Well, if I must, I only wish that, well, you and I, that we weren’t separated by the river, the fence. I only wish that we could walk together in the trees, the sunlight on our faces as we share honey, berries, stories, dreams.”

“That would be lovely.”

“But you are not permitted. And that’s okay. The Elders have spoken on this, even if the rule is, well…”

Millie considered this. Why couldn’t she? Why couldn’t she open the gate, go outside, visit her friend? Because it’s ‘forbidden?’ Why? Forbidden by whom? Ancient law? They are all afraid of Gau-Do because they don’t know him, not like I do, she thought.

“No, child?”

“No, what?”

He stood on his hind legs, looking at her eyes from his place on the bank of the river. “No, you must not disobey. The ignorance and fear of your elders is not your problem to solve.”

Millie pondered this as well, before, “But if I don’t change things, if my generation doesn’t at least try to make things better, why are we hear at all?”

Gau-Do was silent for a few moments. “Well, I suppose your logic is unimpeachable. But—“

“But nothing. I will open the gates. I will come see you, walk the woods with you.”

“You’re sure about this?”

Millie packed a bag and threw the straps over her shoulders. It was heavy, but she wasn’t sure how long she’d be gone, and the summer heat of day was deceptive—she knew how cold the nights could get amongst the trees. She grabbed some wax paper and wrapped up some meat scraps to bring her friend, before heading to the gate.

She had never opened the gate before. She’d seen it done many times, when hunting parties or trash-wagons or the like had to come or go. While the gates themselves were quite heavy, they were constructed using a series of counterweights and pullies and ropes that meant she should be able to get them open.

She took a deep breath: This was the right thing to do. The elders meant well, but their warnings were outdated, silly. Why would anyone be afraid of a wise old bear? He wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. He was her friend. If they would only get to know him—as he really is, not as they misremember him from the past—they would see that he has so much to offer their otherwise closed, exclusive, Fort-centric society.

Millie got up on her tiptoes, used her stretchiest stretch to just get a finger around the latch rope, before pulling it down and wrapping her hand around it. She started to put her weight into pulling the massive metal latch out of it’s housing unit when—

“Millennia, no!”

Andre was running toward her, full speed, while pulling an arrow from its quiver and knocking it on the string of his longbow.

“Don’t open that!”

She froze, not unsure of her decision, merely in shock at the scene unfolding in front of her.

“Get back!”

It was too late to stop the process, the massive gate already starting to swing open.

She could see Binton, along with Roswell, MacDonough, and many others, running toward the gate, weapons at the ready. She became aware that the alarm bell was clanging throughout the fort, waking all.

What were they so afraid of, she wondered. This seemed like such an overreaction to an old, kind-hearted bear. They had so much to learn, she mused, as the gate gained speed before slamming into the fort wall.

“Get down!” she heard again.

She turned to look where everyone else was looking, at her good buddy Gau-Do.

He was there. At the gate.

One of many.

The whole of the bank between the fort and the river was covered with fur and teeth and claws as an army of red bears amassed near the wide open entryway to the fort.

“All the villages were terrified of the creature in the forest, but one day a curious child decides to investigate, and surprised everyone with what they found—“

“Balki?” Larry interrupted. He looked at the pair of two year old boys already enraptured in Balki’s story.

“Cousin, I’m telling a story here.”

“I just want to make sure this won’t be a scary story,” Larry said, not wanting to admit that he was already feeling goosebumps just from this short blurb.

“Nay, not a scary story at all! Now, the curious young boy loved the forest. He knew most of it like the back of his head—“

“Hand, Balki,” Larry corrected.

“Do you want to tell this, Cousin?” Balki asked, tired of Larry’s interrupting.

“I don’t even know the story so how could I tell it?”

Balki continued, “The young boy entered the forest determined to meet the creature everyone had warned him about. He found a lean-to and gently rapped on its opening. The boy offered a kind greeting but was met with only a grunt. He tried again but heard nothing and bid the creature farewell.”

“I think the creature just wants to be left alone,” Larry commented.

Balki continued again, “The young Mypiot boy returned day after day. He would bring food, flowers, some token of friendship. The creature didn’t ever come out. One day the boy had to accompany his mother to an outing and wasn’t able to visit the creature. When he went back the next day, he finally met the creature…” He paused, then continued, “The creature was short and had dark curly hair over its head and body. It greeted the boy and asked where he’d been the previous day. The boy explained he’d had a chore to do and hadn’t thought he’d be missed. The curly haired creature explained that the boy was the only person to ever stop and try to make friends and when he didn’t visit the day before he worried the boy had had enough of his distant behavior and wouldn’t come back. But the Mypiot boy had returned and the creature wanted to show appreciation. He also asked the boy if he could tell everyone else that he, the creature, wasn’t scary, just liked to be alone. Well, the boy did just that and soon the creature was welcomed with open arms and the villagers even gave him a name: Larriki.” Balki grinned as he watched Larry’s brow lower, then raise again as he realized what just happened.

“Balki!” Larry exclaimed.

“Sorry, Cousin, but that really is what they named him. I never told you that story before, hoh?”

“No, Balki, you sure didn’t.” Larry glowered as their boys hugged Balki in appreciation of the story.

-End-

Everyone is scared of what’s in the forest, but no one knows what it is. All we know is that the only people who have ever seen it have gone missing. Today I’ve decided that I’m going to try to find it. I’m going in the forest at night so no one sees me. I packed only a little not much. I’m going to have to ration it. It’s night time to go in the forest. Making sure no one sees me. Once I get in the forest I’m going to look for caves so I can go to sleep in one. I found a cave it’s perfect. Wait I heard a noise from farther in. It sounds like nothing I’ve heard before. I go further into the cave and see a monster it looks like a lion and a hippopotamus. I don’t know what it is. I took a picture of it. I’m going back to the village without trying to make noise. I got out of the cave, and now I’m heading back to the village. I’m back in the village. I wait till morning to show them what I found. They all are surprised at what I’m showing them. I want to go back and find out more.

The forest was off-limits. The villagers had long told the story of some dark creature that lived in the depths of the dense woods. Anyone that dared enter never returned. Life was generally happy in the village. Working together in a peaceful bliss meant most villagers never left. They enjoyed staying there and living together as long as no one enters the forest.

One day, a young boy was picking some apples for his mother. It was one of the many chores that he was responsible for. He hated chores but knew mother wouldn't like it if he didn't get them finished, so he begrudgingly completed them all. He often dreamed of a different life. One like the stories he had heard. Stories of adventure and exploration. Stories where young boys and girls discover new things. That want his life. No one ever left the village. The boy wondered why that was the case. Surely, there was more out there to see than this tiny village. The village was placed almost perfectly in the middle of the forest. The village was surrounded by forest.

As he was thinking and picking apples he was startled by a small sound coming from just beyond the edge of the woods. He glanced over, but nothing was there. He must have imagined it. But then he heard it again. He wondered if he should go look around. He could see the area from here. It must be okay to just look. As he slowly crept into the edge of the woods his hands began shaking. He had no idea what was beyond these woods. But there was a pull for him to continue, to explore. It a chance for him to live out his dreams, but this felt way too real.

As he took his first step into the woods, he hesitated. He expected something to happen. Like something to jump out and scare him. But nothing did. So, he took another step, then another. After a few minutes of walking, his fear subsided. Why were people so scared? There was nothing to be afraid of. As he looked around, he noticed how beautiful the trees and the flowers were. Vivid reds and blues. Colors he didn't her to see much in his small village. Why would people be so afraid of such a beautiful place?

It was at that moment that he noticed something strange. A large object in a small clearing up ahead. The boy hid as his fear returned. But the object wasn't moving. It looked like a grey man on top of some kind of animal. The animal had four legs and had some type of device on top that allowed the man to sit on it. But they were so still. Almost like they were completely frozen. How could they be so still? As the boy inspected this scene, he noticed that the man and animal were on top of some type of platform. The boy moved forward.

There were little stone structures around and on the floor. Like they had been destroyed in some way. Ruble scattered everywhere. As he approached the platform he looked up towards the too and realized that it wasn't real. It was some sort of frozen picture that took up a lot of space. He has never seen anything like it before. It made no sense to him. The boy reached out his hands and touched one of the animal's legs. It was cold and hard to the touch. But no reaction. As the boy looked around he noticed something else. There were words written here. But some were missing. Something had knocked part of it away. All the boy could make out was “Ulysses S.-”

The boy kept looking for something to happen but nothing did. He was feeling a little disappointed. So much had been made of the woods but there seemed to be nothing there. Nothing but space and a weird stone structure. Who put it there? How long had it been there? Why did no one want to find it? What were they so scared of? The boy returned to his village and everyone was in a panic. The village elder saw the boy return from the forest. The boy confused said, “there is nothing out there. Just some old rock.” The elder with a look of compassion said, “It has been forgotten and that's what scares us.”

My name is Kathleen McCullough. I am eight years old, I have a red dress that matches my hair, and my favorite time of day is the night. My family lives on the western outskirts of the village. The Woods run close to us, right up to the wards of the boundary stones. Our neighbors say that the fairy road runs right through the property, that it was bad luck to build here in the first place. Mother says tells me not to speak of it, that such talk is unfit for a good Christian girl. But I see how her hand always settles on something wooden when she prays, and how she sprinkles salt on the hearth and threshold every evening. I have never seen the little folk, though I have often peered out my window at night hoping to catch a glimpse of them as they pass by. Shannon tells me that the old man in the Woods will come and eat me if he catches me looking. It gave me nightmares the first time he told me that, and I didn’t look out of the window at the Woods for weeks after, even during the day.

But something drew me back to my nighttime vigils, despite my misgivings. Maybe it was the moonlight on a cloudless night, how it cast everything into silvery light. With the stars burning cold and bright in the sky above, every familiar sight became alien in my eyes, and the mundane became fey. The wheelbarrow with the cracked axel became a basin of silver fire, the garden shack a painted and shuttered chamber for somber, hidden proceedings.

The woods aren’t allowed. That’s what my Mom said when I turned 4, it’s what Greta said when I turned 5. When I turned 6 no one brought it up, because Greta had broken the rules. Greta had gone in, and she never returned.

So when I turned 7, I went in. 7 was an odd age. Everyone treated me like the porcelain doll my pale, burnt skin implied I was. But Greta, with her olive, sun kissed skin, and brown hair, was the real broken China doll everyone was afraid to repeat.

One day, I packed some cornbread and ham in a cloth. Inside the large apron pockets of my child sized dress, I set forth for the woods. I must find Greta, she’s in there fine. That’s what I told myself.

The old man who saw me walk into the woods said the legends were real, that the monster of the Wild Woods can get me. If I couldn’t see it, I couldn’t believe it.

The crunch of leaves, the babbling brooks only lasted a mere hour into my trek before it was replaced by dead trees and still ponds. No longer did the birds sing, but they screamed. No longer did leaves crunch under my feet, but dead animals.

Once all the cornbread and most of the ham had been digested through my stomach, I sat down for a nap. No signs of Greta.

SCREEEEEECH

The birds awoke me before the sun, screaming like banshees. Soon, a hoard of black ravens were circling me, and then descending. Claws, beaks, the whole package were scraping at me.

Pushing and pulling my hair, picking me up, dropping me a few feet away from sharp rocks or ledges.

Suddenly, the old man from outside the forest appeared. Tears streamed down his face, confusion streaming down mine.

“They got you kid. I’m sorry. I tried to warn you all,” he shouted over the bird caws.

As I opened my mouth to reach out to the man, seemingly my saving grace as a young child, the ravens plucked me up.

Fighting for my feet to touch land, the ravens tossed me over the side of a rocky, grassy ledge. As I was falling, an invisible net caught me.

Floating down, old man guided me to the ground. Uncertainty choked my words, and the path to a grove led me to consider why I was here.

Greta. Greta! She was standing in the grove, years older than before.

“Oh Eliana, no! No! You didn’t come for me!” Greta begged, asking that it wasn’t true.

“I thought you would want to see me. I came for you!” I replied, as doubt clouded my unconditional love for my sister.

“The ravens took me, now you. They need to feast. Children aren’t good for them, Eliana,” my sister explained, as she pulled me into a tight embrace.

“We don’t know why. But all I know is that my family protects them. My family has the technology needed to control them. Except for when someone comes to them,” the old man said with a grimace. It was obvious his distaste for his life.

“I cannot let them take you. Two missing children will bring more people into the woods to investigate. More people will mean more lambs to slaughter,” he insisted, mechanics in his head already moving to plot my escape.

“Just kill the birds if you control them,” I said stubbornly.

“They don’t die. Have you seen a single dead raven?” he prodded.

Shaking my head, I knew what would happen. I knew Greta, in her strong-willedness, wouldn’t return. She wouldn’t be able to.

So that’s why I’m telling you this now. Because if the ravens, or the man, find out I remember what happened, that their concoctions didn’t make me forget, then I will become the next they feed on. It’s been long enough, my life is no longer valuable.

So protect yourself, protect this writing, and most of all, do not go into the woods.

"Come on, Marisa! We're almost there!" Yasmin pulled her shy twin sister along, who was already shaking. The two were adventuring into the Arca Forest, trees spiraled high to shade from the light of the sun and moon. Legends have it, if you were to visit the cave and offer up your treasure, you'd get taken to heaven.

Marisa and Yasmin jumped over the roots of the trees, pushing aside the leaves blocking their way, and holding hands the entire way. The two stopped in front of a cave, and Yasmin spoke up first. "So what did you bring, Marie?" Marisa rummaged through her bag, before pulling out a doll, and a motorcycle toy. Yasmin got surprised, "You're really giving those up...?" Marisa nodded, before setting them aside. Yasmin reached into the bag as well, before pulling out a spiked bracelet. "I don't need it anymore, it's okay."

The two tossed the items into the cave, and said simultaneously, "We offer this to you!"

Nothing happened for a while, and Marisa moved to hold onto Yasmin's arm. "...Maybe we did it wrong." Marisa spoke quietly, looking down at the ground. Yasmin shook her head, "We did it right. It'll be okay. It'll come." before smoke begun to pour from the cave. Yasmin stood on guard, while Marisa clung onto her sister.

"TwO aT oNcE! vErY uNuSuAL!" a voice sounded as if it were glitching in and out responded, and it turned to laughter. Marisa, still holding onto Yasmin's arm, spoke up first. "We heard...that you can bring us to heaven. We gave you our possessions....take us." Yasmin looked at her sister, happy about her slight confidence, before turning back to her sister. "Yeah! That stuff meant a lot to us!"

"HmMm...I eNjOy ThEsE. bUt YoU bOtH sHoUlD wAiT uNtIl YoU'rE oLdEr." The voice chuckled, before Yasmin begun to yell. "Why can't we go now?!" The voice offered no explanation, before the smoke cleared. Yasmin felt tears slip down her face, and Marisa wiped them for her. "It's okay. We'll be okay. We'll wait together."

Yasmin sniffled and smiled softly, "Yeah, we'll wait together

George’s mother had told him the tales of the creature in the forest. How when the lumberjacks were logging down the trees, a monstrous noise came from the forest. It made them run away, tripping over branches of the fallen trees they had just cut down and even abandoning their axes. When they returned, they found that their axes were gone and the trees they cut had disappeared. Like a phantom spirit haunting the forest when villagers got too close. Similar stories were circulating around the villages that all shared this common horrifying noise. That’s when the villages unanimously agreed to leave the creature of the forest alone.

George had been told many times. Yet he was curious to see this creature of legends. He told his mother that he was going to play outside. She told him habitually not to go to the forest. He promised but he crossed his fingers behind his back. He took the old dirt trail that had not been walked on by the villages for many years. He reached the opening to the forest where the stumps of tree. He approached the edge and saw that the dense trees created a dark abyss that sunlight failed to penetrate.

George stepped in and he felt a chill ripple down his spine. The lack of sunlight also contributed to the cold feeling. Several paces into the forest, George regrets his decision to find the creature of the forest. A ear-piercing screech startled George as he fell over backwards and knocked his head against a tree.

George blinked his eyes and before him was small hairy bear. George screamed and the bear screamed back. But it didn’t actually scream like a bear. It sounded human. George stopped screaming and so did the little bear. George looked closer and he could see that this bear had a boy’s face. The boy stopped and stared at George with curious, investigative eyes.

“Who are you?” George asked. The boy dressed in bear skin stared bluntly as if he didn’t understand.

“You evil. You come from village and you cut down home.” The bear boy spoke in broken English.

“I’m George. What’s your name?” George persisted.

“Nito.”

“Are you the creature of the forest?”

Nito raised a horn and he blew into it. It screeched horrendously. George shrivelled back and unable to cover his ears because of his restraints.

“Stop!”

Nito’s head turns with curiosity. As if he had deemed George harmless, he untied the restraints and pointed.

“Go. Don’t come back.”

George ran as fast as his little legs could take him and when he told his mother and the village of what he had seen. They laughed and dismissed him as “The Boy Who Cried Boy”.

A loud screech called in the forest. The people of the nearby town shivered and ran around outside or hid in their houses.

A young boy named Oliver snuck away one morning carrying a backpack full of snacks and water. He had a pocket knife in his jeans. Green plants and tall trees stood near the bushy area that Oliver entered. He sang, “I’m going to the forest, going to the forest to see what is inside, to see what is inside. All the townsfolk are afraid, but I am curious to find, curious to find,the creature behind the call we hear.”

The flowers smelled sweet and when his feet met the trail he heard the “Screeeeeech!” The trail led in a curve down to a large area of nettles. The trail didn’t change direction so he trudged through. It’s good that he wore long pants that day.

He strolled forward without the nettles brushing his skin. Oliver followed the trail over two hills then down to a swampy area. The trail led through the swamp so Oliver scoped for a safe way to walk. A log floated at the edge of the swamp. As he stepped on the log it sunk down then up. Oliver stepped carefully and traveled on two logs. When he came a jump away from the edge of the trail and the swamp, he jumped high not far and landed in the swamp. Luckily a branch stuck out from a bush and he pulled himself onto the trail. He exclaimed aloud “Boy was that close!”

Oliver sang his song”I’m going through the forest, the forest to find the creature calling, calling to save our town from fear.” He found shiny. sparkly dust on the trail and decided to follow it. In front of him flew something mysterious, sparkly, and tiny. The tiny flyer led him to the base of a tree where a tired Screech sounded. There lay a red tailed hawk with a broken wing.

Immediately, Oliver strolled close and said,“hey little guy, you poor little guy. I’d like to take you home and calm the townspeople down.”

He looked closer and found a stick in the red tailed hawk’s wing. He took his pocket knife out of his pocket and cut the stick out of the bird’s wing.

Oliver remembered the nettles and the marsh. “How am I going to take the bird through the swamp and the nettles?” asked Oliver.

“I’ll help you.” said the winged sparkly flyer.

“You can talk and understand me? Great! How will you help me?” questioned Oliver.

“I am a pixie fairy and I’ll sprinkle fairy dust in you that will fly you home under darkness. You just have to tap your shoes four times and make a circle with your pocket knife and you will fly home.”

“My name is Oliver. That’s fifteen minutes from now!” exclaimed Oliver. He rested on the ground by the red tailed hawk.

Fifteen minutes passed so he tapped his shoes four times and made a circle with his pocket knife. Then just as the fairy said he returned home. He tiptoed inside and laid the red tailed hawk in a box on a blanket in his room.

The next morning Oliver took the hawk to town to show the townspeople. “I found this red tailed hawk in the forest. This is what you heard. He’s injured; see his wing.”

The townspeople danced around town and came out of hiding. The vet went to Oliver’s house and helped him care for the bird until he could be released to the wild.

“Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, there was a village called Rybom. Rybom was a tiny little village very near the eastern edge of the desert between lands. The village had a few shops and homes, a schoolhouse for the children, a courthouse for the adults, and an orphanage. “In the orphanage, there was a little boy—“ “Oh, that the boy that sees the—!” The old woman claps a hand over the young child’s mouth. “Am I telling the story, or are you?” She asked in her husky voice that reminded the child of leaves scraping over worn paths. “You,” the child groans and flops backwards onto the grass. “That’s right. Now where was I? Oh yes. The little boy. “His name was Jecht, which means restless spirit. And he was. Every day, he would go out looking for trouble, and every day he would find it in that small town of Rybom. “One day while he was looking for trouble, he passed by the beggar lady in the center of town. She called out him, saying ‘Come, boy, tarry with me a bit, and I will tell you a tale.’ “Now, the boy had no desire to sit and listen to a story when there was fun to be had, but he supposed it could wait. There was always trouble. So he went and sat next to the hag, and she told him a story of the monster in the forest of light. “She had described it well, painting a likeness from words horrifying enough to send grown men running for cover. But the boy laughed and said to the beggar ‘I am not afraid. Look here, old hag. I will venture into the forest and find the creature for myself.’ The hag merely cackled. ‘I will be amazed if you return at all.’ “And so the little boy left the laughing hag and went out into the forest alone, searching for the monster, praying he’d find it. And find it he did. It was bending down over a stream for a drink when he came crashing through the forest on his quest, the poor thing. “He was so surprised by what he saw, he almost fainted from shock. At first, he’d thought it was a mortal girl, but with a second glance he discovered he was terribly, terribly wrong. “The creature had long, purple-white hair and solid, bottomless purple eyes. She had pale skin and horns growing out of her head and pointy ears and teeth. And the boy, loving trouble, fell in love with the monster instantly, and with time, she began to love him back. “But their love was forbidden, because she was a faerie, and he was a mortal. They met in secret by the moonlight in a willow grove that bordered their lands, but neither was satisfied. One day, the reckless little boy was followed to the willow grove. “When he returned to Rybom the next morning, the entire village urged him to kill his love, reminding him of the monster she was on the inside. He refused adamantly, ignoring their warnings and went back to see her the next night. This went on for seven days, and on the eighth, he finally agreed. “He went back again to see her in the moonlight, bringing with him a golden ring and an iron knife. Two dozen of the village’s finest men followed him, careful to keep themselves hidden from view. When she appeared, he slipped the ring onto her finger and kissed her, whispering his empty promises in her pointed ears. “And when she seemed at her most content, her pale eyelids drooping over her violet eyes, he unsheathed his dagger, fully intending to kill her, but when he turned around, she was gone. “The boy and the villagers chased her, but never caught her. Every night since they have gone hunting for her, searching for the dangerous beast that stole the boy’s heart. They have dressed up the tale to make it seem as though she cast a spell on him, forcing him to love her. That is why they hunt her to this day.” “And those were the men? The ones that are hunting for her?” The child asked. The old woman smiled and sighed tiredly. “Yes. But they’ve never found her, and they never will.”