Hic sunt dracones

And still the trees moved closer, the path through them growing narrower and narrower. Roots slithered into her way, trying to trip her and almost succeeding multiple times.

Sobbing and gasping for air, she pushed on, her heart pounding in her chest. She had no more strength left to run, nor would the trees allow it – but onwards still, quickly, there had to be a way out.

She had travelled these woods all her life and had never once gotten lost. She knew her way amongst the trees – or so she had thought. But this was not the forest she knew anymore.

They shouldn’t have done it.

They should have listened to the old tales their grandparents told. It was too late now, they were all dead. As would she soon be, unless she found a way out.

Panting, she stumbled to a halt. Her lungs were burning for air, her throat was parched. She felt light-headed and shaky. Unthinking, she reached out a trembling hand, grabbed a low-hanging branch for support, eyes closed, concentrating on her breathing.

All grew still. Even the rustling of the trees. For a moment she thought it was finally over. That perhaps the forest had gone back to as it used to be. Then she felt something grip her wrist.

Her eyes flew open. In the gloom it was hard to make out, but it wasn’t her imagination. A vine was snaking around her arm, binding her to the branch she had so carelessly grabbed.

In a panic she tried to break free, but with every yank the vine pulled tighter around her wrist. The trees resumed their unnerving rustling and creaking – it sounded like mocking laughter to her ears. Blood was dripping from where the vine had already cut deep into her skin.

Another yank – and the vine suddenly snapped. Freed, she stumbled back and fell against another tree. A terrified scream tore from her dry throat, before she pushed herself off the tree and ran. Blind with panic she ran, chased by the trees’ laughter.

Oh why hadn’t they listened when they were told not to disturb the ancient creature that slept beneath the forest. Not to cut down the sacred trees – his trees. But hadn’t they thought it all to be nothing but fairy tales and superstition? They should have listened. Now all was lost. Devoured by the forest.

How long had she been running, chased by the trees and the oppressive presence that lurked in the darkness of the shadows? Was it day or was it night? She couldn’t tell in the eternal gloom.

She was so exhausted, but fear drove her on relentlessly. Onwards and onwards she ran, hunted by trees she had once called friends. Onwards and onwards…

Until all of a sudden the trees parted and she stumbled and fell into a clearing, awash in moonlight. Soft moss broke her fall, but when she looked up, her breath caught in terror.

There, between the trees, from within the blackest of shadows, a pair of eyes, as bright as stars, looked back at her. Their colour an eerie phosphorescent yellow, their pupils the shape of a flower.

Slowly, a form detached itself from the darkness and stepped into the silver light. What she saw then filled her as much with awe as with fear.

He seemed to glide across the ground and yet each step echoed through the forest like a bell stroke. His long robe seemed filled with a life of its own, moving at will and contrary to his movements. Flowers and mushrooms bloomed in his wake. His long slender fingers the colour of bark ended in talons. Long hair, a darker shade of green than his robe, cascaded over his shoulders, adorned with acorns and mistletoe. Antlers crowned his head, tall and majestic, gossamer spiderwebs, glittering with dew drops, between the prongs.

The closer he got, the taller he seemed to grow. Quivering she stared up into his terrible, beautiful face, the glowing alien eyes. His lips parted in a smile, revealing rows of sharp teeth. His taloned hand slowly reached for her.

They should have listened – now it was too late.

His pupils blew wide, extinguishing the phosphorescent glow. The last thing she saw, was a constellation of stars in the darkness of his eyes.

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