Forest

The forest around my grandmother’s was alive, just as she had mentioned. It wasn’t just one creature that opened my eyes to the life around me, but dozens, and the further I walked away from the cottage, the more I could see exactly what she was speaking of.

Squirrels darted from tree to tree. Birds fluttered above me, calling out to one another as they circled and landed on one branch only to shoot off to another a moment later. They came in all shades and varieties, from red headed woodpeckers that announced their presence like construction workers to black crows that cawed and congregated in murders on leafless dead trees. 

Even on these trees that appeared to be lifeless, there was still a presence. Green leaves wound up their trunks from the ground. Moss grew at their bases in clumps. Mushrooms sprang up from their discarded fruits and leaves. Even in death, the forest could not be stilled. It lived and breathed and moved around me, igniting my senses in a way I’d never experienced before. This place was quite different from the California landscape I was used to, the bustle of the suburbs, the concrete jungle. Here, colors came alive in vibrant shades of red, green, and blue. Here, every inhale was a fresh medley of fragrances. Here, every time I turned my head, I saw a new creature or heard a new sound. The life around me had lit a spark inside, and I suddenly felt more alive than I ever had before.

I took a seat on a stump surrounded by tall grass and clumps of moss and took it all in. Looking back the way I’d come, I made sure my grandmother’s house was still in sight. I could see it just fine from my present location, only a couple of hundred yards from the back door. I didn’t quite understand why she’d been so insistent on me keeping the house within view--her reasons didn’t seem quite the same as what I would’ve expected. I would’ve been worried about getting lost or disoriented, but she seemed to think that something else might happen to me if I strayed too far, something… dangerous. I didn’t want to think about what that might mean, not when I knew that my reasons for being there had something to do with wolves and the forest around me was ebbing and flowing like a river. Instead, I decided to keep the cottage in view because she’d asked me to and it just made sense to do so.

I was close enough to my new home that I could hear Max finishing up the unloading and storing of our belongings in the back shed, which was currently obscured by a cluster of trees. I tried my best to tune out that noise so I could listen to the woods. I loved to hear the chirp of the birds and the calls of the animals to one another. I didn’t hear any songbirds presently, but I hoped I might, if not that day than another. The longer I sat there, the more at peace I began to feel. While I still wasn’t happy to have been dragged from my home, the energy of the forest seemed to flow not just around me now, but through me. I could feel it pulsating in my veins. With my eyes closed, I breathed deeply, picking up on scents and tones I hadn't’ before, specific flowers, the hint of water from a distant brook, boughs of fog that hung around the bases of trees further into the forest. How I could identify those scents was a mystery, but it seemed right that they were a part of me now, that I was becoming a part of this forest, even as a newcomer, as if I’d always belonged there.

As I sat there, taking it all in, with my eyes closed to focus on the sounds and scents, a faint noise hit my ear. I hadn’t noticed it before. At first, it blended with the woodpecker, but then, when he flew away, I could still hear it in the distance, a similar sound to his hammering. It wasn’t another bird, though. It wasn’t the consistent rattle of a beak against timber. It sounded more like a man-made noise, a whack, whack, whack, a pause, a thunk, more whacking, repeated but not always the same amount or whacks or the same length of pause, or the same heaviness of thunk.

I opened my eyes, turning my head to see if maybe it was Max moving furniture around in the shed, but the noise wasn’t coming from that direction, and I thought he was gone now. The sound, which was harder to hear with my eyes open thanks to the distraction of the colors of the forest, continued in the distance, off to my right. I wondered what it might be, if there was another house out there, behind the trees where I couldn’t see. My grandmother had said there were more houses around, just that they weren’t visible from hers. If I walked that way, would I be able to see the house and someone there working outside, eventually?

As much I wanted to find out, I didn’t go. I remembered what Grandma had said. Going further into the woods that day could be dangerous, and I didn’t want to risk it. She’d promised, when I became more comfortable, I could venture further out, so I decided to wait. Thoughts that there could be a family out there, maybe with a girl my age, made me long to discover more of the woods of Whisper Hollow, but that would have to wait for another day.

I took another deep breath and headed back to the house. I had no idea how long I’d been gone, but I imagined it was only an hour or so. That was a good start for getting acclimated to my new home, my new life. I’d have plenty of time to spend in the woods in the upcoming days, weeks, and months. 

Letting go of the air I held in my lungs, I headed back to the house, taking a little bit of the forest with me.