Authors: Cameron Dokey
Right where we'd started. Instantly, the glare decreased, as if to reward us.
"Oh," I said. "Well, this is annoying."
"Do you think so?" Ironheart asked. He had that look on his face, the same as the one he'd worn when staring at the hailstones, or describing the calcula-tions he'd made concerning 83
his brother's broken-in-seven-pieces sword. I expected the notebook to come out of the knapsack at any second.
"When you stop to think about it, its really quite fascinating.
In fact, I think the odds might be somewhere around—"
The expression on my own face must have shown my frustration because he broke off abruptly, then added. "Though it is very inconvenient, of course."
"It's just that I don't care very much for games," I said, moving straight out from the cottage by several steps in what I considered to be the wrong direction. "Too sneaky. I much prefer it when things are straightforward. They don't have to be simple or easy, but they do have to be fair."
I put my hands on my hips and glared at the closest stand of trees. "Are you listening to me?" I shouted.
"Maybe we should just go back inside and rest for a day,"
Ironheart said, his tone a bit nervous now."You don't seem to be feeling quite yourself, Aurore."
"I feel just fine," I answered. "This will all make sense in a minute." I took a few more steps. I was under the closest branches now.
T know you're enchanted," I shouted up at the trees. "He knows it. I know it. We all know it, so you can just stop showing off. If you want us to go in a direction that doesn't make sense to anyone but you, that's fine. You're making all the rules, anyway.
That's obvious. Though I could wish I didn't feel quite so much as if you were making them up as you went along."
No sooner had I uttered these words than a bright shaft of sunlight shot through the Forest canopy to illuminate the trees under which I was standing. It was a stand of aspens, their leaves as yellow as my hair. Their trunks stood close together, the branches entwined, as if the trees had stepped closer together during the long, cold night in an effort to keep warm.
Their leaves were frozen solid.
I was pretty certain this particular group of trees hadn't been there the night before, though I suppose it is possible that I just didn't notice them in the storm.
Then the sun struck the leaves, and the shimmer of ice became a sparkle, and the sparkle became a shine. And then the shine became a dazzle so bright it hurt to look upon it. And that was the moment that the leaves burst forth like hundreds of 84
yellow butterflies all breaking free of their cocoons at the same time. They fluttered in a breeze that was for them and them alone, for though I stood beneath the boughs, I felt no breath of air.
"Looks like we're going this way," I said. The way that made no sense at all. The one I would have sworn was back the way I had originally come. But it was plainly what the Forest wanted, and equally plain I was in no position to argue.
"Whatever you say," said Ironheart.
************************************
Ironheart ate with great determination, though I could tell his mind wasn't on the meal. He shifted restlessly every few seconds, gazing around him, a furrow between his brows.
"What's the matter?" I finally asked. "Are you sitting on an anthill?"
"It doesn't make any sense," he announced.
I'm afraid I gave a very unprincesslike snort. "You aren't just now figuring that out are you?"
"I mean the stream," he said. "It doesn't make any sense.
There aren't any streams flowing out of the Forest, at least not where I come from. Or into it, either."
"Nor where I come from," I said. "Maybe it's just inside of la Foret."
"But that's the thing that doesn't make any sense," Ironheart said at once. "It's not the way things are supposed to work. A stream has to start someplace and go somewhere."
"I'm sure it does," I said. "It just does it all within the boundaries of the Forest."
"But—," Ironheart began.
"The stream makes as much sense as going the wrong direction to get where we're going," I interrupted.
85
"You have a point," he said after a moment. He eyed the stream, that expression on his face again. "I wonder what it tastes like."
"I'm not so sure that's a good idea," I said. "What if it's enchanted or something?"
At this, he gave a snort of his own. "It would have to be, wouldn't it? We're in an enchanted forest."
"You know what I mean," I said.
"Of course. But we're breathing the air already. We don't have much choice about that. How much more dangerous could it be to drink the water?"
"I don't know. That's the point."
I could tell the second he made up his mind. His face took on a look of determination and his chin jutted out. “I'm doing it," he said."Don't try to stop me, Aurore."
"Why on earth would I do that?" I inquired. "You can make up your own mind. Just don't expect me to come and rescue you if you fall into a stupor or something. I have no intention of getting all wet, and besides, that water looks cold."
He clambered down the bank of the stream and lay on his stomach atop a large stone at its edge. Then he leaned out over the stream, dipped his cupped hands into the water, and brought them up to his mouth. Drops trickled through his fingers, sparkling bright and clear as stars.
"Well?" I called.
"It's good!" he said, rolling over onto his back." You were right. It is very cold. But there's something else. A thing I've never tasted before. I'm not quite sure how to describe it."
"Stop trying to cajole me into tasting it myself," I said.
" That wasn't cajoling," he answered, pushing himself up onto his elbows."That was tantalizing. There's a big difference.
Couldn't you tell?"
"Either way, it's not going to work."
One eyebrow shot up. "You just keep right on thinking that, Aurore."
"That's not going to work either," I said, though, by this time, I'd started to laugh, which was just as good as admitting that he'd won."Oh, all right," I said, getting up and marching down 86
the bank to flop down at his side. I followed his example, gathering the stream water into my cupped hands to drink. I don't think I've ever felt anything so cold. But it slid down my throat as smoothly as honey.
"Oh," I said, after a moment. And then again, "Oh."
"That just what I thought." Ironheart nodded."It's like—"
"Like drinking from all the streams there ever were at once," I said, rolling over to gaze up at the sky. Like being able to hold the clear, pure essence of the very world itself within your hands, and then take it in with one long swallow. "I wonder if that's how the magic of this place works."
Ironheart sat up. "What?"
"Doesn't it seem to you that there's more of everything here?"
I asked, sitting up also. "As if the Forest holds all the possibilities for everything all at once? Maybe that's why time is different here."
He
was
nodding
vigorously
even
before
I
finished
speaking."That's exactly how it seems to me," he said. "But what I wonder is this: Do we choose what we experience here, or does the Forest choose it for us?"
"My guess is that it's both," I answered slowly. "It definitely guided me to the cottage last night. And this morning, it wouldn't let us go in the direction we wanted. But since then, it's pretty much left us alone."
“I wonder why it cares where we go," Ironheart said. The frown was back between his eyes. "And whether it's taking us toward its heart or away from it."
"There's only one way to find out," I said. At which he nodded and got to his feet.
"Let's go."
We walked for days, generally going the way the Forest wanted us to go. Any time we tried to turn around, or choose an alternate path, the same thing happened as at the cottage: We ended up right back where wed started. Finally, even I gave up trying to go do anything but travel in the direction the Forest wished. We could do nothing but trust the steps we took would bring us closer to our goal.
87
One day the trees through which we walked were comprised entirely of evergreens—pine and fir. The pine bows were heavy with fat, brown cones. Now and again, one would fall from its branch and land with a thunk upon the long needles that covered the floor of the Forest like a great green rug, never turning brown themselves at all. Delighted, as if the Forest had offered him a gift, Ironheart stuffed several of the cones into his knapsack, taking them out to sketch and make notations whenever we stopped.
There was the day we walked through an orchard of saplings so energetic we could actually see them grow. It was on this day that Ironheart stopped putting his quill, ink, and leather-bound book away in his knapsack. Instead he kept them out all the time, the book tucked under one arm or into the front of his breeches. His right ear soon became spattered with ink due to his habit of placing the quill there when not actually writing. It gave him a jaunty air, poking out from behind his ear like the feather of a new cap.
There was the day we crossed a great meadow without seeing any trees at all. Ironheart made notations about butterflies and picked wildflowers to press between the pages of his book. And, though the day was bright and clear, it was also the one in which I felt a shadow slowly begin to take shape in the back of my mind. In the depths of my heart.
This isn't the way it's supposed to be, I thought. Though How can this be the way it's supposed to be? is probably more precise. I had come to la Foret expecting it to be dark and dangerous and terrible. Or at the very least to hold the possibility for those things inside it, as I held such things inside me. So far, with the exception of that first hailstorm, I'd seen nothing of them.
The longer I walked, the more certain I became. The current situation couldn't last for very much longer, because it just couldn't be right.
And as for Ironheart, he'd forgotten all about his beautiful sleeping princess, as far as I could tell. He hadn't mentioned her in days, seemingly content to simply ramble through the Forest making notes. Surely true love was a thing not so easily distracted. Though how he could actually be in love with a girl he'd never even met was a thing I still hadn't managed to figure out.
88
All in all, I was becoming what my nurse would have called out of sorts. So I suppose it was only reasonable that out-of-the-way things began to happen, for that is how the world works, or so I've always been told. Thinking about dark and troublesome things, wondering when they'll come to pay you a visit, turns out to be the very best way to call them to your side.
It all started when I picked the fight.
A thing I'm hardly proud to admit, but as I've promised to tell the truth, there's really no way to leave it out.
It happened on a day that started out much like any other, but turned out to be the one on which I decided that I'd simply had enough. The day of the never-ending apple orchard.
We came across it early in the morning of what I was pretty sure was our fifth day in the Forest. A number that felt significant, somehow. Hadn't it taken six steps to cross the boundary between la Foret and the world I knew? Therefore, might it not make sense that it would take six days to reach its heart, as well? In which case, tomorrow could be eventful in ways that were impossible to predict.
Not that anything about la Foret had been all that predictable so far.
The first trees we passed were all in bud. Aside from noting that they were different from the trees of the day before, I don't think even Ironheart thought all that much about them. The land through which we walked had grown hilly overnight—soft green rolls of earth with tiny valleys nestled like jewels in between them. A land like the gentle swells of the ocean, swells just high enough to hide what was beyond them. We couldn't see what was up ahead until we'd reached the top of each rise.
Shortly before noon, a strange sound began to fill our ears, a deep low buzzing. Ironheart lifted his head like a dog on a scent.
"What's that?" he inquired.
"How should I know?" I said, my tone already grumpy. I was getting tired of all this upping and downing. To me, it felt as if la Foret was playing tricks again, when it knew quite well I wanted things to be clear and straightforward.T can't see any farther ahead than you can, you know."
Ironheart glanced at me, a furrow between his brows. But I could tell that only about half of the frown was for me. The rest 89
of his attention was already fixed on whatever lay beyond the next rise.
"Come on, let's go find out," he said.