at the base of the trees, I had no trouble spying the grubs feasting on rotted wood or the worms writhing in the black soil at our feet. I could even see tiny black ants crawling up the moss-riddled trunk of an elm tree nearly ten paces ahead of us.
“We need to keep moving,” I told her. “Just stay close.”
As we pressed on, a thin mist began to fill the air, and a stray wind drifted through the forest—initially only a mild breeze, but a few minutes later it gained strength, and a gust tore past us. The collar of my coat flapped against my cheeks, and I pulled Matilda closer. She wanted to go back, I sensed that much, but she would never speak the words aloud; her will was too strong. I often heard the fall winds whistle past my room, but I had never once stood in their midst; I found it exhilarating. The forest was alive around us; from the creatures to the swaying trees, I felt the forces of nature in the night air, the delicate balance of life and death.
The mist grew heavier as we continued down the path, swirling around us on the tail of the wind. It wasn’t long before even I had trouble seeing more than a few feet in either direction. The mist reeked of dampness and the briny sea, no doubt the peat that flourished in abundance in this region and the harbor not so far off. I filled my lungs, breathing better now than I could ever recall.
I couldn’t help but laugh—and the moment I did I regretted it, for Matilda stared at me as if I were a loon.
“It just feels good to be outside, that’s all,” I said, more to convince myself than her, but neither of us believed it. Something had changed within me; both she and I were aware of it, and it was then that I saw something in my sister’s eyes I never hoped to see, something no brother ever hopes to see—
Fear.
Whether fear of me or fear of what she felt had altered within me, I could not be sure.
Her eyes squinted against the strengthening wind, and this time it was she who turned away and pressed on down the path with me in tow, her once-warm hand now clammy.
We continued on for nearly twenty full minutes, our feet digging into the muddy earth with each step as the wind struggled to hold us back. The forceful gale howled at us as it weaved in and out of the trees, a demented specter no way bound to this earth. From high and low the air cursed, pushing and pulling with such fearsome force I nearly lost my footing more than once; if not for Matilda at my side, I would have surely fallen.
Was the forest trying to turn us around?
I wanted to dismiss the thought, but it grasped my mind and held firm. Could a forest prevent someone from entering? I thought not, for even though a forest does live, it lacks consciousness or free will.
With that, the wind kicked up around us, and Matilda stumbled; I pulled her close and kept her from the mud at our feet, nearly falling in the process.
And if a forest couldn’t prevent someone from entering, what about something dwelling within it?
The cord that bound me to Nanna Ellen suddenly grew taut once again, and I knew she was close.
A break in the mist revealed a large clearing before us. We came upon this place so fast there was little time to react. I pulled Matilda to the ground with me. She let out a soft cry, but my hand cupped over her mouth before any sound escaped. With my other hand, I pointed.
Nanna Ellen stood about twenty feet in front of us beneath a large willow tree. Twisted branches reached not only towards the sky but also out over the green peat-filled waters of a bog that began at the tree’s base and disappeared somewhere in the distance, the edge lost in the thick mist. Moss dripped all around, the brown of the tree trunk nearly lost beneath.
It was then that the wind