Chapter 1
Life is simple, living on a farm. Hard? Sure, it is hard work sometimes, but simple. As I look out along the green countryside, I am filled with a warm breeze of joy. I can hear the many goats call out to each other with playful bleats. They eat peacefully, at their own pace. I sit on the fence and smile at this magnificent sight. Life is simple as a shepherd, and that’s the way I like it.
Suddenly, I hear a song. A simple tune and a gorgeous voice. It is so soft and sweet, like a mother lulling her babe. I turn my head towards the road that threads along our pasture. There she is. A figure as lovely as the voice it produced. Such fair skin, unblemished except for the freckles that tickle her cheeks. Two big blue eyes are gazing in between the strands of red hair that are covering her face. She is small and thin, her head reaching to my chin. But she is strong and capable. She is carrying a wooden stick across her shoulders with a bucket of water hanging on either end. Her head is glistening with sweat and the buckets slosh heavily with every step. Nonetheless, she is smiling. Smiling and singing. For a moment I can’t breathe. My heart as heavy as the buckets filled with water. There is a storm brewing in my belly. I want to collapse and throw up. But I also want to rush to her side and make her mine. Two instincts at war inside me.
She passes by gracefully, and I say nothing. I dare not. I feel like I would split in two, were I to open my mouth and talk to her. I see her every day, carrying water in the blazing sun. But I do not know her name. Sometimes she looks at me and we exchange smiles, after which I suddenly realize I need to feed the horses. I did not inherit my father’s courage, nor my mothers’ charm.
She reminds me of her, this girl. Every day, when I hear her sweet voice, I am taken back to the days of childhood. When my mother would sit at my bedside and sing songs of heroes and kings. My mother… Grief is a wound that closes but never heals. It has been 10 years since my mother left this farmland. 10 years since she was reunited with my father. The man that was so courageous, that he volunteered to be slaughtered at the frontlines. No, I did not have that kind of courage.
But that was a different life in a different time. The hardship is over now. I worked hard and now my father’s farm flourishes. My blood is in this soil as much as his was.
The girl is out of sight now, but that is okay. I know I will see her again tomorrow. Tomorrow, maybe I’ll say something then. For now, I have to tend to my herd. But tending the herd does not actually mean much. There are no wolfs or mountain lions here. The biggest danger around these parts are the humans in the village, and they are all very decent folk. Nothing bad ever happens. Life is good here.
I jump off the fence and lie on my back, on the ground. The sky is blue, not a cloud in sight. Blue, like the eyes of that girl. I lose myself in thought. I drown in her sweetness. I remember the sound of her voice, singing like my mother. Suddenly I hear a sound that disturbs my thoughts. I emerge from my pool of thoughts and see the blue sky again. The goats are stirring up a ruckus. I get up and dust off my pants. I climb up on the fence and look over the herd. Everything seems to be fine at first sight. Then I see some of the nannies grouped up near the forest. They’re all facing the trees and seem restless. Near the edge of the forest, I see one of the bucks walking. He’s heading into the woods. I jump off the fence and make my way through the herd, to the edge of the forest. It is strange to see a buck near the edge of the forest, let alone walk into it. I remember my father wanted to fence that part of the pasture off, but since the goats seemed to avoid the forest it had never been necessary. Now that I think about it, he always told me to stay away as well, said the place was cursed. He said his father went into the woods once and was never the same when he came back out. I had forgotten until now, there was never a reason to explore new places, everything is good here.
I reach the spot where the buck was walking a few moments ago. He was nowhere to be seen, must have walked in further. I step forwards, planning to enter the woods myself. However, my body stops, and I hesitate. As I look at the thick wall of trees looming over me, an ominous feeling comes over me. It isn’t fear exactly, or not primarily at least. There is a feeling of doing something forbidden. Like taking a cookie from the jar when mom is not looking. I think about walking away, but I go in anyway. “I have to find that buck”, I tell myself. Though that is not the reason I go in. I feel challenged by this forbidden feeling. Challenged by the warning father, the courageous lion, gave me.
I take a deep breath and step forward again. The trees get closer. Their branches shelter me from the sun. I am sucked into the darkness that resides between these massive pillars. Soon it becomes harder to walk. The floor is infested with branches and massive roots. The forest allows little light. Only a small ray here and there that managed to sneak past the leaves that are guarding this ancient place from the sun. I get the feeling I’m being watched, either by the trees or something lurking behind them. “There’s no wolfs here, nor mountain lions”, I tell myself. I pick up the pace, I have to find that buck so I can just get out of here. The feeling of being watched gets stronger. My breath gets heavier and more erratic. I start running through the trees. I don’t know which direction I am running in anymore. Suddenly, my foot gets caught on a root. I try to break my fall with my arms.
Once I hit the floor I keep rolling for a meter or two. Finally, I stop, lying face up with my eyes closed.
I feel a pleasant breeze on my face. I open my eyes and see the blue sky, framed by the bushy treetops. The pressure of the forest seems to be gone, left behind with the darkness between the trees. As I look around, I realize I must be in what seems to be the heart of the forest. It is a round, grassy clearing surrounded by a thick wall of trees. In the centre of the clearing is a gigantic apple tree. It is bigger than any tree I have seen before. Its leaves are decorated with the most beautiful, round, blood red apples. The tree must be ancient, but it looks so strong. I look to the base of the tree and see the lost buck standing there, staring at me. “There you are, silly beast” I tell the beast, “come along now, you’ve caused quite enough trouble for one day”. The buck seems irresponsive to me, so I walk up to it. It just keeps staring at me as I slowly make my way up to it. It looks straight into my eyes, his head tilting up a little bit with every step I take towards it. “What’s the matter with you?” I say when I stand in front of it. “Something got you down?” I kneel to meet his eyelevel. The buck closes its eyes for a second. When he opens them, they are blank and red, as if soaked in blood. I get startled and lose balance, falling backwards on my behind. I am not quite sure what to do, is the buck sick? I’ve never seen anything like this.
The goat starts talking to me: “There is something you desire”. His voice is deep and… soothing. It is disturbing to see a talking goat with eyes like drops of blood, but the voice somehow comforts me. It reminds me of father.
“Desire?” I say with a shaky voice.
“Love”, the buck says, “you have been robbed of it, and now you seek it.”
A vision of the freckled girl immediately passes through me. “Love…”, I say, “but, what ar-“
“I can give it to you”, the buck interrupts, “I can fill that hole in your heart.” His words are so sweet, so irresistible. They are like the honey you drink when your throat is hurting from a week of coughing your lungs out.
I forget the question I had. I forget the absurdness of the current situation. My heart grows greedy at hearing the buck speak, “how? What do I have to do?”
“Observe”, he says commandingly. The buck spits on the ground in front of him. After a couple of seconds, I see something moving in the grass. From the grass a thin, green stalk is growing until it reaches my face. I can see a small, white bud at the end of the stalk, which slowly starts growing. Once it grows until about the size of my hand, the bud unfolds into a beautiful flower with white leaves that fade into red tips. In the centre of the flower lays a beautiful, smooth black ring with a blood red gem on the top.
“If love is what you desire”, the buck starts talking again, “then take this ring.”
I think about this, “what do I do with it?”
“Put this ring around the finger of the woman you love, and she shall love you unconditionally till death do you part.”
The thought of unconditional love from the woman I adore conjures a grin on my face. I reach out to the ring, but an ominous feeling stops my hand. It is the same feeling I had when I stood at the edge on the edge of the forest. Like I am doing something I’m not supposed to. “
Do I dare take a cookie?” The buck stares at me blankly.
“Well…” I decide, “mom is not looking”
