The Forest

She frowned at the ground around her. Surely there had been a trail just seconds ago, for she had been following something to be this deep in the Forest. But now she studied the sparse patches of dirt that showed amidst thick tangles of weed and bracken and found she could neither distinguish a trail nor, more alarmingly, entirely remember if there had ever been one to begin with.

She cast her mind back- why had she entered the Forest? Everyone with half a wit knew what a terrible idea that was and she was fairly certain she shared that opinion. Or did she? She couldn’t remember...

There had been a Before as well, hadn’t there? A time before she was in the Forest at all? She had a vague sense of lines carved in the ground and walls made of trees but not of trees and.. and...

She gasped. “Ezra!”

She was running, now. No need for a trail, no need to remember if there had been a trail, she remember Ezra, remembered the child running just like she was running in to the Forest....

“Ezra! ” The fire in her throat told her this was not the first scream torn from her. Her aching legs told her she had run many miles that day. And her increasingly fuzzy mind told her this may not even be the first day she had spent here. Her heart told her Ezra was...

A clearing opened before her and she stumbled, falling, gasping. The space cleared her head a little and she sat, collecting fragments of what could possibly be memories. The town. Home. The fight. The screams. Ezra. Ezra running. Running in to the Forest. She squeezed her eyes shut. In stories people always find

what they seek in conveniently placed clearings. She wanted very much to leave this clearing.

Heart hammering despite having caught her breath, she stood and opened her eyes.

The clearing was, of course, almost perfectly round. Beams of late afternoon sunlight danced down from the gap in the high, thick canopy, jewel bright birds darting to collect the insects drawn by the light. Their songs filled the space with an air of serenity so perfect, it was completely disturbing. Her skin crawled at the sight of cheerful wildflowers gathering graceful, technicolor butterflies, the riot of colour arranging itself in a stomach - clenching perfection. Sweat beaded on her face despite the gentle breeze.

Ezraa was not there. But there was a trail broken in to the perfectly spaced bushes at the far edge of the clearing.

Choking hope surged in her chest as she moved towards the trail. From the corner of one eye, a glimpse of light, harsher and brighter than the clearing - like early morning light- brought her to a halt. It looked as if the edge of the Forest was just there, slightly to one side of Ezra’s trail. Had she seen the light after breaking from the clearing and escaped the Forest? Was Ezra even now waiting for her at the edge of the trees? Or had she gone straight on her trail, deeper in the Forest?

She hesitated. If she left the Forest, if she finally got free... she was not sure she could make herself come back in. But Ezra could already be out there. If she was, though, surely others were looking for her - for them both - and could find her. No one else would dare enter the Forest.

She bit her lip, gazing longingly at the light. Then she turned back to the trail.

A few feet away from the clearing she stopped, studying the ground. There were foot prints there, clear in the mud. She crouched to inspect them and her breath caught in her throat. Slowly, her left foot moved forward, hovered over the print of the left foot in front of her, touched the print, fit neatly in to the print.

They were hers. They were very, very old.

She stood, her gaze fixed on the trail of prints. Her vision seemed to haze and she blinked, squinting to focus on the... the trail? She frowned at the ground around her. Surely there has been a trail just a few seconds ago, for she had been following something to be this deep in the forest...