A Night in the Woods

She knew she wasn’t supposed to be in the woods, because she wasn’t really supposed to go in the woods alone. Her mom used to bring her a lot during the day, but lately she just went to work, came home, and went to bed.

She remembered a day her mom had come home to her running out of the woods. She had run up excitedly, trying to show her a salamander she’d found.

“That’s great Trill, but I don’t really want you going in the woods when I’m not home. You could get lost, or hurt.”

“But the house gets so bor-ing,” Trill had protested.

“You can play in the yard, just don’t go in the woods.”

Trill had opened her mouth to argue again, but her mom had silenced her with a look.

Yet here she was, in the woods, wearing rain boots and gloves that were too big while she pulled strangling vines off the trees.

    Just like her, the vines weren’t supposed to be here. Her mom had showed her how they slowly choked the trees, and the trees couldn’t do anything about it because they didn’t know how. Some of the vines were smooth, and if they had been there long enough, they left dark, spiraling wounds up the length of the trunk.  The fuzzy ones seemed to suffocate the trees with hairy tendrils. Those ones were like poison ivy, leaving itchy bumps that would spread if you touched them. She had learned that when, after another excursion, she had discovered the red bumps on her pale hands. They had soon spread to her face, and neck, and the rest of her body. Even her mouth had felt dry and puffy.

    Trill continued deeper into the woods, always checking behind her to make sure she could still see the house, then looking in front to find more trees in distress. She saw one with a particularly big fuzzy vine, and even though she didn’t think she would be able to pull it off, she approached the tree. She touched the vine with a gloved hand, brushing the fur-like tendrils. Trill was still absent-mindedly petting it when she noticed it had wrapped around her finger. She didn’t try to pull away at first, but soon it had moved up to her palm. She jerked her arm, trying to dislodge the vine, but it had successfully trapped her right hand. As it slowly creeped toward her arm, it started to bend her enveloped fingers in the opposite way they were supposed to go. She started to cry, then screamed. She hadn’t at first, because no one was supposed to know she was in the woods, but she also knew what it felt like to have a finger broken.

    “Stop it, stop it!” she yelled at the vine.

    The tendrils’ advance suddenly stopped. Something seemed to be slowly prying into her mind, enveloping her consciousness until it felt slow and muffled. Then it began to fill her head with a scratchy, hissing voice.

    We know all that goes on in this forest… We know what you’ve done, and what you’ve taken from us… What you’ve stolen…

Trill tugged at the vine, trying to rip her hand free of the fuzz. The voice continued it’s raspy lecture.

    You are no judge… You are no executioner… but you are a thief! You will-

    Trill had been startled by the voice, but was even more so when it suddenly filled her mind with a terrible wail. She clapped her free hand over an ear, trying to block out the sound, but it, like the voice, emanated from inside her head. The vine shriveled away from her trapped hand, and it’s scream seemed to die with it. Immediately snatching her hand away, she stared at the once fuzzy vine. It was quickly shriveling into a stiff, brown mass up the length of the tree. Trill reached out a hand to poke it, then decided against it.

    She jumped and almost screamed again when she heard something sliding against the bark of the tree, and looked down to see it was a small, cat-sized creature. This animal was definitely unlike any she had ever seen before. It’s fur was a creamy white, and it did have the body of a cat, but it had large, petal-shaped ears, and a mane and tufted tail like that of a lion. It’s most prominent feature, however, was a pair of straight, black horns sticking out of its head, and more horns continued down to the base of its spine.

    The creature blinked at her with almond-shaped eyes that were the color of fresh growth in spring, and they seemed to have a distinctly human quality.

    “Go home, Trill,” it growled in a surprisingly deep rumble, “and heed the words of the Strangle.” The girl was so shocked, she only nodded. She tramped home in a daze, trying to make sense of what had happened.

    She arrived at the house just in time. Her mom was pulling into the driveway in their old, coughing station wagon as Trill pulled the door closed behind her. She hurriedly pulled off her rainboots and stuffed the gloves in the basket next to the door, where all the other miscellaneous outdoors stuff was kept.

    She ran into her bedroom and grabbed a random book off her shelf, then flopped onto her bed as she heard the door creak open.

    “Trill?” her mom called softly.

    “In here mom,” she said. Her mom appeared in the doorway in a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, her brown hair in a messy bun. She rubbed her nose, and Trill noticed her tired, half-lidded eyes.

    “Mac ‘n cheese all right for dinner?” she asked. Trill nodded, and her mom nodded back as she turned to walk to the kitchen. Trill put the book down on her nightstand and followed. As her mom looked for a pot, Trill settled herself at their little dining table.

    “How was work today?” Trill said politely.

    “Same old, same old,” her mom said as she pulled out a pot and brought it to the sink, “How was home? Do anything fun?” She started to fill the pot with water. Trill thought for a moment.

“Well, I drew a picture of a bird earlier. It’s on the fridge.” Her mom craned her neck to see the fridge from where she was standing.

“Very nice. Is it a… flamingo?” Trill smiled, pleased with herself, then remembered what she’d come out to ask.

    “Yeah,” Trill paused. “I was wondering, have you… have you ever heard of a little white animal, with black horns?” she said carefully. Her mom looked back at her quizzically.

    “Well,” she started, “baby goats can be pretty small, and sometimes they have little horns.” She turned the water off and carried the pot over to the stove.

    “What about… like, in the woods, around here?”

    Again, her mom turned to look at her.

    “I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

    “I thought I saw something like that in the yard,” Trill said, feeling guilty about the lie, “but maybe I just saw it wrong.”

    “The shadows might’ve played tricks on your eyes,” her mom said.

    “Maybe,”

        The night proceeded without anymore excitement, and Trill was relieved when she could finally settle into bed and ponder the days events. She couldn’t decide which was weirder; the talking vine or the talking mystery animal. She sat up and went to snatch her journal from her nightstand, which was full of random knick-knacks and treasures. Before she picked up her journal, however, she changed her mind and grabbed a stone from her nightstand. It was one of her most recent treasures; an iridescent, purplish rock that was kind of shaped like a bear, with a round head and four thick, stubby legs. In certain lighting, it looked like it had flecks of blue, and it had become one of her favorite things to fidget with. She then grabbed her journal and started to record what she remembered while the words of the vine and the creature still echoed in her head, her other hand still fingering the stone.

    As she recorded the memory, she realized that the creature had said her name. It was already strange enough that it had talked in the first place, but the fact that it somehow knew her name was even more unsettling. She fingered her straight, brown hair. She had only ever read about situations like this in fantasy stories, and everyone knew fantasy stories were- well, fantasy. Not real. She eventually fell asleep, still trying to sort the day out.

    Trill slept uneasily that night. She dreamt that she was in the woods, and she caught a glimpse of a tufted tail before it disappeared behind a tree. She began to chase it, but it was the classic dream; no matter how fast she ran, she couldn’t catch it, and the creature only seemed to be getting further. She yelled at it to wait, to stop, until she realized she was being chased by fuzzy orange vines snaking along the ground. They crawled closer and faster, until they were wrapped around her ankles, her legs, her torso, her face.

    She woke up in a cold sweat, and it took her a second to relax. It was still deep into the night. Not even a hint of sun pierced the windows, and her clock read a little after two. Part of her expected the animal from the woods to be peeking in from the window, but she knew that was absurd. For all she knew, the whole situation was a dream, or a hallucination. The thought hadn’t occurred to her until now, but maybe she was insane.

    Trill looked at the window again, listening to the pleasant sound of crickets chirping. Not knowing what drove her to, she slipped out from under the covers and off of her bed, then quietly tiptoed to the window. She stared out at the pitch-black night, then, making up her mind, quietly walked to her nightstand to dig a flashlight out of the drawer. After a moment of indecision, she fished the bear-rock out from her blankets, as she had fallen asleep with it, and she tucked it in a pocket. She would have to go in socks; it would be too great a risk to walk past her mom’s bedroom to the main entrance, where all the shoes were kept.

    Equipped with a flashlight and a thin jacket, Trill pushed the window open carefully. She winced as it squeaked a little, but heard nothing when she stopped to listen. When it was open just enough, Trill squeezed through the opening and cautiously felt her way to the ground. She was careful to pick her feet up as she walked through the yard, lest she trip on a rock or other obstacle. She winced as she stepped on a particularly sharp pebble, but continued her march to the woods. She could tell she had reached the forest line when the dark blue sky disappeared behind pure black shadows.

    Now that she was far enough away from the house, Trill switched the flashlight on with a click. Though it illuminated the trees, it also cast long shadows, and seemed to highlight every nook and crevice where critters could hide. Trill hesitated, wavering in place. She had never snuck out before, nor was she sure why she had tonight, but she couldn’t put this strange feeling behind her. It was like an itch, and this was the only way she could scratch it. It was like the cure to poison ivy.

    Steeling herself, Trill slid a hand into her pocket and closed it around the rock, as it was somehow comforting. She then continued into the woods, carefully picking her way so as not to step on anything sharp or loud. Every step was an argument with herself; of whether she should continue forward or abandon the reckless mission. Somehow, she kept going forward, even though her mind was telling her this was bad, that she shouldn’t sneak out, that she must be insane, that she shouldn’t go in the woods alone.

She carefully skirted her way around a patch of poison ivy, then a tree with a vine. She gave all the vines a particularly wide berth if she could, especially the fuzzy ones. None of them so much as moved an inch, but their dancing shadows left Trill in constant anticipation of them reaching toward her, of breaking her fingers and wrapping around and around her. She remembered how she had kind of liked them before, how they looked like giant furry caterpillars crawling up the trees.

She searched around until she found the dead vine. She could tell it was the same one because of its size, and the fact that it was not dead in patches, but all the way, up and down. Nothing sat at the base of the tree or around the tree. She couldn’t even hear the crickets chirping anymore, let alone any other creature. This was as she had expected, but disappointment still wound its way into her head. Now that she was here, she didn’t really know what to do. The venture suddenly seemed foolish, and Trill scowled as she turned to head back to the house.

Trill turned the flashlight off and squinted into the darkness, trying to see the house, when she realized she hadn’t left any of the lights on. Mom always turned all the lights off at night, porchlight included. Panic was starting to settle on Trill like rain seeping into her clothes. If she yelled, her mom might hear her, but the last thing she wanted to do was disappoint her. She took one deep breath, then another, trying not to cry, then faced the dead vine, turning the flashlight on again. She was preparing herself to make a guess at the right direction when she heard a familiar sound; fur scratching against bark.

The same white animal stepped out from behind the tree, horns and all.

“Find what you’re looking for?” it purred, looking bemused.

“Do you always sit behind that tree?” A multitude of questions buzzed in Trill’s mind, and for whatever reason, she had asked that one. She almost laughed at herself for such a remark at a time like this.

The creature seemed to find that amusing as well. It rumbled deep in its throat, and Trill thought it almost sounded like a chuckle.

“Not always, but when I do, a certain child seems to be getting in trouble.” it said.

They both stared at each other for a second as Trill got her thoughts in order.

“And why is that?” Trill said.

“I could ask you the same,” it said with the same bemused expression.

Trill frowned, suddenly annoyed by the creature.

“What are you?”

“A creature, a critter, a goat, whatever you think.” It sat down and began to groom itself. Trill opened her mouth to express her annoyance, but the creature cut her off.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop messing with you. I just don’t get to have a lot of fun anymore.” The creature repositioned itself so that it was sitting facing Trill.

“I am known to some of your kind as the Bai Ze. Your kind think I’m omniscient and have a few extra eyes, but that’s not really true. I’m just considerably knowledgeable about all creatures, from beetles to unicorns.” The animal said this whole spiel quickly and indifferently. Trill blinked. The creature went back to grooming itself.

“Oh. Well, that still doesn’t explain why you’re here.” The Bai Ze stopped cleaning between its claws to look at her.

“You’re not easily impressed, are you?” Trill shrugged uneasily.

“I’m here to… prepare you, mentor you, if you will. I-” The Bai Ze abruptly stopped and tensed, staring at Trill’s hand. She had subconsciously taken out the bear-rock and was fidgeting with it in her non-flashlight-bearing hand. She stopped, as the animals slightly bugged eyes were making her nervous.

“You brought it?” it almost whispered. The Bai Ze stood stock still, its eyes still fixed on the rock.

“What, this?” Trill held out the rock.

“Put it back!” the creature hissed. Trill hurriedly stuffed it in her pocket. The Bai Ze finally looked away to flit its eyes about the forest.

“I wasn’t planning on doing this yet, but we have to go.” it said quickly. The Bai Ze started scraping dirt and other debris into a pile.

“What? Go where?” The animal ignored Trill, too focused on its strange task.

“I can’t just leave!”

“You must! You’re lucky to still be alive, now that the forest knows!” As it said this, Trill felt a sense of dread wash over her. The trees seemed to be bending over her, creaking with the movement, their leaves rustling, branches brushing against one another. She heard vines scraping slowly against the trees, and foliage shivering in anticipation.

The Bai Ze was now kicking the dust pile up into the air with its paws, its tail frantically sweeping along the ground behind it. The crickets were chirping again, but they didn’t sound like a sleepy chorus of voices anymore. Their chirps pierced the air in what sounded like war cries. Birds of day and night alike joined in, crying out hoots and crows and shrieks of alarm. They were raising such a cacophony that Trill dropped the flashlight and pressed her hands to her ears.

The Bai Ze had stopped swirling the dust, and suddenly bellowed a strange, eerie howl. The sound caused a short lull in the chaos, and sent a shiver down Trill’s spine. The dust began to whirl faster, forming a small ring in midair that was slowly expanding. Light shone through it, blinding Trill.

“Go!” Trill felt something nip her heel, and she stumbled and fell into the vortex.