Into the Deep Wood

There was no peace that first night.

Val did not know what she dreamt, but she would start awake, shuffling and scurrying around her.

Rats. She thought. Just what she would think life in the city would be like.

Rats.

Every time she would go back to sleep, it would happen again. She would wake up, disturbed by their slinking and scratching. This kept her sleeping well into the morning hours when she could close her eyes.

The room had only one small window towards the upper third of the wall. It did not let much light in, and she was almost glad. Val would have never been able to catch up on rest otherwise. There was a small metal basin in the corner where she washed her face, noting that it smelled a bit muggy on that side of the room. It was as if someone spilled water onto the wooden floors and soaked through them - allowed to sit and rot.

Getting dressed, she tied her hair back and peeked out of her room, only opening the door ever so slightly. No one was in the hall but the dust particles floating in the direct sunlight of the eastern-facing window.

Val braved the hall, turning to where Marat was staying. She had to talk herself up to knock on it. Who knew what time it was or if Marat was even awake? But, she thought, she could not go out into the city alone. And she was starving.

Val knocked. There was no answer. Just as she got ready to knock again, the black tabby appeared at the end of the hall. It ran toward her, moving its delicate legs one in front of the other as a ballerina might. Immediately, it rubbed its tooth on her boot, followed by her side and curly tail- then circled and did so again.

“You are very sweet, kitty.” Val cooed, bending down to pet the cat. But, as she did, the cat took off - completely indignant that its affection was repaid in kind.

Strange animals.

But still, she smiled. She hadn’t seen a cat since the farm, where the barn cats lounged lazily on hay stacks and strolled the courtyard. But a domestic one? It’s been since her childhood, and even then, she was not allowed one as her grandmother took them to be dirty animals. But what was the cat doing when all those rats kept waking her?

Val returned to the door and knocked again. Still, no answer. As she went to knock a third time, Ezra came up the stairs.

“All that racket! If you are looking for your friend, he is not here.” He told her. “He left hours ago, many hours.”

“I’m so sorry…” She felt awkward around this little man. She wanted to ask him where she could find food, but she had no money and did not want to get lost. “I didn’t know.”

“Well! You know now.” He softened up, seeing that the girl was a bit flustered. “If you would care, I baked some delightful cheese pastries this morning. Come, have one downstairs.”

Grateful, she nodded, following him. Halfway down the flight, he turned, eyeing her.

“Did you not get much sleep, girl? You look exhausted.”

She bit down on her lip, suddenly very conscious of herself and wishing her room had a mirror.

“I’m fine, that is, I slept okay.”

Marat came through the small entry room just as she was finishing her pastry and the cup of tea that Ezra had so kindly poured her. It was not very good tea, bitter with a certain taste that she could not put a finger on. It was almost metallic as if the pot used to heat it hadn’t been cleaned in years. She bit down on the pastry and made a noise akin to calling out to him but the pastry muffled it.

He doubled back, looking a bit startled by her presence and then a bit put off by the crumbs falling out of her mouth as she bent forward, trying desperately not to choke.

“Oh good,” He said, stepping into the kitchen, “you’ve eaten. And almost successfully.”

“Ezra was kind enough to offer me a pastry.” She remarked, annoyed that he was giving her a hard time, knowing she could not go alone into the city. As if called, Ezra popped in through a door she did not notice until it opened.

“Now! One or two for the road!” He exclaimed, shoving a linen cloth with baked goods in Val’s hands.

“Thank you.” She smiled, feeling more at ease in his presence than that morning, and took the treats.

Marat motioned for her to follow him upstairs. The steps were narrow, only wide enough for one person to walk up or down. They creaked and screeched when one would step on them. There was no sneaking up on anyone in this old home, that was certain.

They walked the two flights to get to the third floor. The steps continued, although in disrepair and without backing or rails, to what Val assumed was the attic.

Marat opened the door to his room and gestured to her inside. She noted that his room was nearly identical to hers - small, metal bed, basin in the corner. But, his had a small discolored mirror above the basin. She hurried to examine herself in it, fearing that she looked as ghastly as Ezra had led her to believe. Marat watched her with a blank expression, and then, realizing she was in such a rush to check her hair, he shook his head and sat on the bed.

“Are you done?”

“Why are you being cruel?” She asked, leaning up from the mirror. She was getting the sense that he was not having a very good day.

“I’m sorry, girl.” He answered, not looking up.

“Can you please stop calling me ‘girl,’ Marat?” She pleaded.

“No.”

She let out a frustrated breath and sat down next to him expectantly.

“I told you I would take you home. So that is what I intend to do. Now listen,” He pulled a paper parchment out of his shirt and showed it to her - his handwriting was abysmal, and she was unsure what she was looking at, so she waited for him to explain.

“The Deep Wood. It’s to the North of the Insipid Flatlands - which lead East. The woods do not cross into Nasmeria, but they used to. They used to stretch all the way to the River Cities.”

Val nodded in understanding, although, yet again, she had not understood at all.

She did recognize the name of the city, perhaps region, that everyone had told her shared her same features - the color and fineness of her hair, her green eyes, and her small stature. Marat caught the lie on her face.

“Your village. It bordered the Deep Wood with only a bit of forest in between - no more than a half day’s walk, right?” He tried. She nodded. “So, Chelkalka and its neighboring river cities once belonged to such a place long ago.”

“What do you mean, long ago?” She asked, suddenly feeling that whatever she was not getting - it was a very, very bad thing. Marat confirmed this by shifting uncomfortably, the corners of his mouth turning down.

“Girl, we have no way of knowing how long you were imprisoned by the Hag. The rules of time do not exist in her domain. You could have aged two years, and a century had gone by. It could have been when the forests were young still, spread further out across the territories. These people, the Chelka, they look like you. You will not find bright eyes like yours in the East or South.” He explained, the progressing look of panic on her face giving him pause.

“So… it could be that they are all dead? It could be that they have been for a decade? Century?” She whispered in horror.

“It could be. I’m sorry, girl. It is not necessarily the case, but we have little to go on. Whatever we know will have to do.” He watched her expression carefully. She had never allowed for this thought before.

And just like that, he had torn away the idea that her family was still alive and well.

“No,” she said after a moment. "The people in my village did not look like me. Only my mother and I did, and it was well known that my father had brought her from distant lands.”

He nodded, relieved she was giving him something to go off of rather than wallowing in self-pity.

“Understood.” He said. “What else can you tell me? Anything? Landmarks, unique plants, nearby roads? Did the merchants travel through? Did they carry anything noteworthy? What did the people in the village look like? What celebrations did they hold?”

Val sat very still, trying to think of any details from so long ago. It felt like it was an entirely different life, and it truly had been.

“I do not recall landmarks or unique plants.” She said finally, “It was very flat. We could only see the forest. There was only one road, but merchants rarely came by. My village did not have much money, and we were self-sufficient.”

Marat jotted something down and nodded for her to continue.

“The other villagers, the women, they had thick dark hair. Dark eyelashes, light skin.” She thought out loud. “The men had both dark and light features. But not like you.”

“Not like me?”

“They were paler, their hair not as thick. Their faces were very square, but I do not recall the colors of their eyes.” She went on, trying not to linger on the subject of his face. She could not help but let her mind pause on how much more appealing she found him than any of the boys she remembered.

“And celebrations?”

“We celebrated summer and winter solstice. A spring cleaning that was meant to appease a goddess of the hearth. Mother Frost was offered the last fruits of the summer once the first freezes hit.” She recalled. “There were others, but we celebrated a lot, and it was hard to keep track. There were always things set out for the gods.”

He stared at the paper.

“Anything else?”

She gave it her best thought, and suddenly, it came to her - the city.

“Oh!” She exclaimed in disbelief that she had even forgotten. “A day or two walk away, there was a city. I do not remember much of it, except maybe the merchant stalls and markets everywhere.”

“If only we knew of one of those…” Marat muttered sarcastically, continuing to write.

Val looked at the paper curiously, seeing that he had added nearly two pages from her musings.

“And?” He asked again. But she shook her head no. He spent a moment looking over his writing and then tucked it back into his shirt. Val gave him a puzzled look.

“That's it?” She asked. He looked thoughtful.

“You are definitely from Roska. There is no doubt there. The problem is that there are hundreds if not thousands of small villages like you describe hidden away in the forests. I am afraid that most of that information brings us absolutely no closer.” He explained. Seeing the downfallen look on her face, he felt regret for being so candid with her. “But, that gives us a direction, one of four, to start with.”

Marat pulled out a map and laid it out on the bed. He proceeded to ask her questions whenever he would pause on a city, and depending on her yes or no answers, he would either circle it or cross it out. They continued like that until evening when he told her to remain in the room and left - returning with hot soup and wheat bread.

That night, Val dreamt of her village. She dreamt of the friends she used to play with and their parents that she used to know. The elders sat on benches in good weather and on the stoves, behind which, in the alcove, the families slept in the winter.

She dreamt that all of them were dead. The stones of the stove eroded as the wooden houses rotted to the ground. She dreamt that when the cattle had been killed by the chort, the village starved. Everyone, her mother, her grandmother, and in this dream, even Val herself - was swallowed up by the void of darkness—the void of the Nothing.

She woke violently, struggling to catch her breath. Her pillow was damp with tears. She pulled her blankets up, trying to inhale too quickly and coughing.

Val heard the rats again. They were either in the walls or above her in the attic, tapping and tapping with their small feet.