Into the Deep Wood

Winter had come following the bountiful fall. The villagers had stocked their cellars with food - sacks of potatoes, pickled vegetables, and dried fruit. The chickens napped in the warm coops stocked with straw.

Days became shorter, and snow began to fall. It was light and glided to the ground as if made of cotton.

The children and the young people spent less time outside, the elderly retreating into their warm homes for fear of their bones aching from the chill. Everyone preferred winter days atop the loft of the large stone stoves. The heat radiating off it would heat the space, and whole families would sleep there as it remained warm all night long.

Early in the mornings, the smell of freshly baked bread rose all across the village.

The winter solstice celebration had come before they knew it. The gods of frost and chill would receive offerings of meat and song –they sang as loud as they could even though the cold ripped through their throats.

This celebration marked the shortest day of the season’s cycle.

On the following night, the longest one all year, Val had been startled awake, although she did not know by what. She sat up among the blankets and pillows in the alcove above the stove. Her mother and grandmother slept peacefully next to her, whatever had awoken her did not seem to have bothered them.

She heard it again, a soft rhythmic knock at the door; it had been deliberate and insistent.

Careful not to disturb the others, Val climbed off. Her feet hit the cold floor, and she shivered; even the indoor air was cool compared to the stove's heat.

The knocks repeated.

Val cracked the door, and there stood Ura. He was fully dressed in his winter clothes, only his eyes looking at her from between the scarf wrapping his face.

“What are you doing??” She asked, straining to keep her voice quiet.

“I have to show you something!” It was dark, but she could tell his eyes were sparkling.

“Now?”

“Yes, now! Hurry! Or we’ll miss it.”

“Are you nuts?” Val could not believe that he was there. This was so out of character for careful, unadventurous Ura.

“Please,” he begged, “trust me.”

She felt a ping of thrill. To show up at a girl’s door in the middle of the night was a very scandalous act by a very unscandolous boy. Whatever had him so worked up piqued her interest as well.

“Okay, I’ll come out.” She shut the door before the cold air could awaken her mother. Grabbing her wool snow boots and her coat, Val stepped out.

He was waiting outside, his movements fast and excited. Ura grabbed her by the hand and started toward the road. The snow was difficult to walk in, the condensation from her breath soaked her scarf where it covered her mouth, and frost appeared on her eyelashes.

They walked right past people’s homes and barns, the moon already high. As the cold penetrated Val’s clothes, she began questioning why she’d agreed to leave her mother’s home.

“Where are we going?” She demanded, pulling on his sleeve as he forged forward.

“You’ll see, please, trust me.”

He’d done his best to clear a path in the deeper parts of the snow so she could follow suit. Val’s heart beat faster as she realized he was headed toward the trees.

“We can’t, please, Ura, we can’t!” She begged, panic rising in her chest, trying to pull him back toward the village. Ura gripped her hand harder, she could not understand what had gotten into him. Surely he did not mean the forest—reserved, quiet Ura. The Ura that did not brave anything before.

“I saw it in the field,” He said excitedly. “An omen of good luck; the gods must have liked our offering.”

Where the trees began was a ditch that ran the entirety of the field where it met the forest. They stood on the edge, as crossing the boundary meant they would be in the woods.

Ura produced a candle out of his coat but did not light it.

“Don’t worry, I have it here.” He said, “And I will light it, but I do not want to scare it away.”

“Scare what away? Gods, but you are mad…” Her words tapered off in a whisper.

She could tell by his eyes alone that he was smiling. Reluctantly, Val followed as he crossed into the woods. Her heart thumped as she took that first step, but when nothing happened, she took another one –more sure this time.

Ura had her by the hand again, but they walked slowly and quietly now. It was slippery, and covered roots threatened their every step. The moonlight reflecting from the white snow lit their way. But, even having grown up here, she did not recognize the trees around them.

Ura would quicken and slow his pace, looking around. They walked until he pressed his finger to his scarf and crouched. It was so quiet here.

Val heard a stir. Was it a bear? Ura would never, in his wildest dreams, brave a bear.

He pushed himself on all fours around the bushes, beckoning her to follow. A clearing bathed in moonlight revealed itself. Motioning for her to stop, he pointed ahead.

The light reflected off its fur brighter than the snow. It shimmered as if made out of precious stones, completely white and almost glowing - it was a deer.

Val’s breath caught in her chest. The deer was only where the moonlight hit. Where the light did not reflect, it was completely invisible - as it lowered its head into the shadows, she could see the brush on the other side. Its ears twitched and caught the light, and they sparkled. This being existed only by the grace of the light. This was a silver stag.

No one has ever seen a silver stag. This only existed in stories about brave princes - they would always lead the prince to the kidnapped bride. They were an omen of prosperity. Good tidings came to those who came across one in the folktales, and they were blessed by the gods.

Suddenly, its head reared up. Val could not see, but as it turned its head, she was almost certain that its eyes were just… not there. Smooth, silvery fur ran across its face and gave no indication that it could ever see.

Hearing something they could not, it jolted and disappeared into the shadows of the brush behind the trees.

“Ura, was that…?” She trailed off for the fear of sounding absurd. But he turned toward her, pulled his scarf down, and he was red with cold and pride. It suited him well, she thought.

They turned back. Ura took the candle out, striking a match, and it lit up, casting a warm, welcome light around them.

The cold was slowly seeping through her scarf, mittens and under her coat. Her boots were caked in clumps of snow as they made their way back.

“I’m so cold,” she whined, becoming increasingly aware of how late it was. The thrill of seeing the creature was leaving her mind, promising to return once she was warm and indoors again.

He still had her by the hand, leading the way. They could see the edge of the forest peeking through the trees. Their pace picked up, as did his strides.. He tugged her forward a little too hard, and abruptly her foot caught a thin root sticking out in the snow. Val flew to the ground, losing grip on his mittened hand. He was already several steps ahead before he realized that she had fallen.

Her face hit the hard ground just out of the candle's light.

Something stirred behind them, and something curled hard, sharp fingers around her boot. It pulled her back, her scream coming before she fully realized it.

Val tried to desperately grip onto anything she could, losing the mittens to the sticky snow. Her bare hands scraped the ice, and like broken glass, it tore at her, so cold that the sensation lasted only a moment before going numb.

“URA!” She screamed, and whatever it was dropped her leg, recoiling back with the sound of crunching snow.

She could see him ahead where he’d stopped, frozen in place, the candle dropped and snuffed out in the snow. His face looked ghastly even from afar, eyes wide and lost somewhere in the darkness behind her.

She tried to slide her leg under to push up, but the long fingers gripped her other foot and yanked again, more violently this time. Her hands tore at the ground, nails scraping at the ice and splitting as they snagged. Ura’s silhouette rapidly grew farther and farther away.

Aside from her screams, there was no other sound.

Her snow boot slipped off as the thing changed direction to drag her up a tree. The thing did not realize this fast enough because the next thing Val knew was that she was up and running free toward Ura.

Her approach made him come to, and he ran. For just a moment, it seemed that he was running from her.

Val wasn’t sure if her heart had beat during those moments. Her entire being was consumed by reaching the tree line. They broke it and stumbled across the shallow ditch onto the other side, where the sad wheat field lay under the cover of snow.

Falling behind with only one boot on her feet, Val called for him to stop. He did not even look back.

She glanced to see if anything had followed from the darkness of the trees, but only the snow disturbed by their steps remained. The wood stood tall in the distance, swallowing the moonlight where the very first branch reached beyond the boundary.

Knees buckling, she collapsed, her heavy breath coming in sobs and body trembling. Val held her hands in front of her. Even in the dark, she could see blood from hundreds of little icy cuts. It dripped down her wrists and into the sleeves of her coat and colored the snow below in small black drops.

Val did not remember the walk back. She did not recognize that she was in the mud room, where she kicked off her one remaining boot and dropped her coat - snow stuck to everything, weighing it down.

The welcome warm air of the cottage did not register with her; she walked past the stove and the alcove and to the small door on the other end of the room. It led to a tiny bedroom, one where her grandmother used to stay when her father was alive. It still contained a metal framed bed and a straw mattress laid atop a woven set of ropes. There was one window, and a wooden wardrobe stood where her father’s old dusty clothes hung neatly even after all those years.

Next to the window was a large metal basin filled with water. It was for hand washing, and the water was freezing cold when Val plunged her hands in. It quickly turned deep red.

She slipped two pairs of wool socks on, her foot still numb and the leg above it stinging as if asleep. Sitting on the floor against the metal bed, she stared ahead. Where she shook and sobbed before, she was now completely calm. Indifferent. So tired.

After some time, she picked up the old bloody bandages, tied them tight and rolled them into a bundle. She stuffed it into her pocket, picking up the basin full of red water. She had to change it out before her mother woke up.

Her mother’s snow boots were all she had, and, careful not to make noise, she took the basin outside. Val poured the water out a few steps away by the walls and took the bloody bundle - throwing it on top and kicking snow over it to bury it out of sight. When she returned, she had not even noticed that she had left her mother’s snow boots in the mudroom.

The warmth and the blankets enveloping her felt real when she returned.

Real, unlike everything else that night.