We woke before the sunrise. Mother had made pancakes, packed with dried fruits and nuts, wrapping extras in wax paper and slipping them into a bag. Father and I would be heading into the forest to gather herbs and medicinal plants for the better part of a week. Although all of us were educated in what plants, bark, and mushrooms could be used for healing, Father said I had a natural eye for spotting hidden treasures during foraging. 

There was tension in the air, Mother and Father were trying to act like this would be a normal trip, and that nothing ominous loomed above us. They had no idea we had heard their worried whispers last night when we came home. 

We checked our packs, filled canteens and said our goodbyes. I noticed that Mother hugged us a little tighter and a little longer than usual. It made me nervous, and I hugged tightly back. As we stepped towards the forest path, well worn like the others we have carved out throughout the years, Father put a firm hand on my shoulder. 

I stopped, upset at myself for almost forgetting the prayers and ceremony of entering the forest for foraging. We bowed our heads, asking that Soylarias, the Divine of the Land and Halearis, Divine of Healing, guide us safely through the woods and guide us to the healing materials we seek. We waited until a breeze blew through the trees, and knew the Divine had accepted our prayers.

The woods, while being the environment I’m the most comfortable in, is a place full of rules. You’re stepping into and around so many other lives and the magic of the area fills everything from the rocks, to the insects to even the plants around you. The traps that could fall you are immense. 

I stop Father just before he curses himself. 

“Wait! You almost stepped on that!”

A small cluster of red bugs with black dots laid in the path. Ladybugs, carriers of good fortune, if one lands on you. Each spot on it is an extra year of good luck you’ve gained. But, if you kill one, the good luck is crushed out and lost forever, and as a result of ruining someone’s chance of gaining fortune, the number of spots is how many years of bad luck you’ve earned. 

“Thank you, my little flower.”

I nod my head, gently scooting the bugs off the path so they remain safe to carry their luck to whoever needs it. 

Father taught us that if you follow the rituals of the forest, you would heighten your chances of staying safe, but that fate would always have the last say. But beyond the rituals, there was also common sense, like keeping an eye out for snakes or look-alike plants. 

We had traveled further than I had ever been before, and the area had a deep stillness in it and slowly the oaks became intermingled with tall pines. The further we went into the forest, the softer the ground became, covered in fallen leaves and pine needles that softened our steps. The area was so undisturbed that the animals seemed wary but not to fully fear us. That made me nervous, but I wasn’t entirely sure why. The eyes of an owl watching from above had a different intent, curious and wary, but the same piercing judgement as the blacksmith’s family. 


“I think we’re being watched,” Father whispered to me as we gathered chamomile from a clearing. He moved his eyes and I saw a large deer watching us from maybe thirty odd feet away. 

The deer was unique looking, the antlers on their head were completely covered in velvet, although the season for it had finished. The velvet gave the antlers a prickly looking effect, like a squash vine.  Although broad bodied, there was a delicateness about the animal. Something magical about them.

“I think it’s a forest guardian,” I whispered back. 

“I think you’re right, we should be extra mindful of where we go and what we gather.”

The deer followed us for the next three days of our hike. It never approached us, it was always far away, but we always felt their eyes on us. It made me wary of everything I did, like we were trespassing. 

When I suggested we go towards a different area, Father said I was being silly, we had not done anything wrong and had been respectful of where we traveled. But still, the deer’s constant presence unnerved me. 

The woods became thick with trees, the canopy let very little light through and the cool breeze that had originally followed us in had stopped. The air was thick with the sickly sweet of rotting leaves and wood. Every hair stood on the back of the neck, and the deer had faded into the surrounding darkness, but I knew it was still there. 

“This is a good area for mushrooms, like hen of the woods. Keep your eyes peeled. But,” Father had a serious tone in his voice, “there are yew trees in this part of the land. Be careful.”

I nodded, and said an extra prayer for safety. Yew trees were bringers of dark magic and death. The easiest way to bring death on someone was to hit them with a yew branch, but to do so would be risking yourself since you have to spend so much time touching the branch. Their roots and leaves could even hold poison in them, being an extra way to cause harm.

I strayed from our small campsite, looking for anything we needed. Father and I had placed a stake in the center of our site and we had tied ropes to our waists to keep us from getting lost as we dug and searched under fallen trunks and moss covered rocks. I heard the light stepping of hooves in the distance and I had a feeling the deer was close by. 

The stillness in these parts of the wood never went away. Even as I moved, nothing wanted to stir. I shuffled my feet in the undergrowth to try and make something feel alive, but the ground refused to react. 

The pines grew tall but skeletal, their limbs were thin and gnarled looking. The occasional yew loomed in the distance, their red berries watching me like unblinking eyes. I hated the way they stood out from the shadows, like the eyes of a predator. Reminding me that I was prey in these woods to any number of animals waiting in the darkness. 

The shuffling of leaves startled me, I swung my head back and forth, looking for the source of the sound. Nothing stared back. I moved forward, my head swiveling more than ever. I could feel dangerous eyes watching me, and was afraid to move back, for fear that I’d be walking into whatever was stalking me. 

I decided to push forward. 

I came across some black berries, and carefully stopped to pick them. I almost didn’t notice the tugging on my rope, but turned around to see it hanging limply behind me. Something, or someone I thought quickly but then dismissed, had separated my way back through the woods. 

My heart raced. The trees around me began to spin and panic set into my chest.

Lost.

I was lost in unknown woods and there would be no path to lead Father to me. 

Maybe the shuffled leaves would be a clue but it’s been at least an hour since I stopped doing that; desperate as I was for something else to be moving among the quietness than myself, I knew better than to purposely disturb an animal hidden in its burrow. 

I took deep breaths to try and calm down. I could get back. I could get my bearings and head back. The rope was behind me, so I could follow it for a bit, and maybe Father would do the same thing. Yes, this was a good plan.

The rustling came from my side, and I turned, hoping Father had somehow managed to wonder my way. Or maybe the deer had come out of hiding and would help point me in the right direction

Glaring back was a large, angry looking boar.

My heart raced again as I spotted the thick, sickly yellow tusks. They looked sharp and deadly. 


If I looked away, he might charge me. If I kept looking him in his eyes though, he might think I’m challenging him for his territory. I swallowed, fear tightened my throat and threatened to choke me. I slowly, without breaking eye contact, started to back away. The boar watched, snorting and taking a few small steps towards me. 

“Easy there friend. I just got lost.”

He snorted again, shaking his head like he didn’t believe me. 

“I just want to go back to my tent, alright?” I kept my voice even and calm, my pacing slow. 

I took a deep breath and took a slightly longer stride, making my way backwards over a fallen tree. If I could keep this up, maybe he would leave me alone and I could make a run back the way I came. 

Instead, I heard the dreaded snap of the rope getting caught on and breaking a small limb off the fallen tree. I froze and prayed he’d be startled away. 

 The boar’s eyes flared with anger and he stomped his hooves. With a scream, he charged towards me and I turned, blindly running into the darkness of the surrounding trees, until my rope caught on something else and I fell face first into a bramble patch. 

“Stupid rope,” I mumbled as I struggled to untie the rope and lose myself from the bramble patch. The thorns dug deeply into my skin and I felt at least one lodge itself in my nose. The boar jumped over the tree as I regained my footing, and kept pace with me as I ran blindly ahead. 

Deeper and deeper I ran, stumbling over roots and fallen limbs. I just hoped I could outrun the boar or at least leave his territory and he’d abandoned me. The trees grew denser, their canopy interwoven and darkening my path. 

I risked looking behind me, the boar screamed at me again, and my legs started to shake with fear and fatigue. Tears stung my eyes, the saltiness burning the cuts from my falls. 

I was slowing down, my lungs burning as they tried to pull enough air into my body to keep me going. I tripped and fell hard into the undergrowth. I tried to pick myself up, but I was too winded, shaky. I couldn’t do it. Crawling, I hide myself amongst the base of the tree, taking as silent and deep a breath as possible. All there was to do was wait and pray the boar lost me. My head laid against the tree’s trunk, giving me support I desperately needed. 

Snuffling and scraping, the boar appeared framed between the undergrowth’s branches. He was tracking me, trying to pinpoint my sheltered spot. I held my breath, hands covered my nose and mouth for extra protection. He stepped closer. 

Closer. 

He was in a lather from the chase and his watery, beady eyes searched frantically for traces of me. When he was just a few inches away, I heard another set of hooves crash through the underbrush, just missing my crouching body. 

The deer had marched through, and charged at the boar. Kicking, they managed to beat him back a little, but the boar still swung his tusks, nicking the deer’s legs. A quick swipe of the antlers sliced across the boar’s back, and ended the fight. The boar hightailed it away from us. The deer stood watching, breathing heavily for a few moments before looking at my eyes peering through the bushes. I slowly crawled out, my legs still shaking, even more so since I had been crouched for so long. 

“Thank you for protecting me,” I said and bowed towards the guardian. 

They nodded, eyes closed. Turning away, they then kicked at a small growth of mushrooms. 

“Will these lead me back?”

They just huffed like I was wasting time. I hurried, not wanting to upset them and ready to be under the canvas of the tent and breathe in the comforting scent of tea brewed over a fire. 

I turned back once more, to say my thanks to the deer but also to thank the tree and shrubs for their protection as well. The deer had disappeared into the shadows, so I turned my grateful gaze towards the plants. My blood grew cold as I looked at the tree that had sheltered me.

It was a yew tree. 

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A sickness was spreading across the land, and even though our town was more remote, it still came to us. Father and Mother happily did what they could to help care for the town and surrounding farm folk. The herbs Father had cultivated over the years, especially those he brought with him from his elven home, were saving lives. 

Our town still had its losses though. 

Grandfather was one. Mother was hollowed out that day, but she shouldered that grief and bravely cared for others through it. I could never understand the way she moved on through that, I could see the fissures on her heart and soul from losing her father. Her face, once so round and full of life, turned into a hollow gray oval. Her eyes, once so bright, grew a little dimmer as the days passed. 

A small apothecary and quarantine house was built on our land. Some of the protectors, our oaks, were used to expand the barn. I mourned their sacrifice as much as I mourned every person lost. Father was right though, the strength from the trees would help those fighting the illness. Still, my heart ached with every blow into their trunks. 

I don’t remember falling ill. I just remember feeling tired and more tired than I should have been. Mother gave me some tea, horribly bitter no matter how much honey I begged for. I slept a lot afterwards and wasn’t allowed to have dinner with my family. It was fine though, I don’t think I could have sat up at the table for an entire meal. 

I stayed in my room and only my parents could visit me. In my fatigued state, Anethum’s soft knocks and cries echoed in my foggy dreams. I wished to go outside, to feel the sun on my cool skin. I knew I would feel better because my dreams wouldn't be so cold and misty if I could just go outside again.

In my dreams, I was walking through a misty forest, a maze of yew trees. I walked forever. I couldn’t remember where I was going, but my feet knew what path to follow. Where was I? My family’s voices echoed behind me, calling out to me, but I knew I had to go forward. The cries were being distorted because of the maze. The red berries on the tree branches looked like eyes, watching and judging every step I took. 

The center of the maze had an enormous yew tree, so tall the top of the tree was hidden by the surrounding branches. It was wide as a house, with a gaping hollow in the middle. The roots stretched out, like a pathway to the tree. The hollow had a strange, almost metallic quality to it. Like crystalized sap leaking and forming a shiny armor inside the tree. 

I stepped towards it.