Catherine and her forest friends

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Catherine flinched as it passed her eye, too close for comfort. When she searched the ground, she found it was only an acorn, fallen from one of the mighty oaks she was passing in the woods. The crunch of the leaves was a soothing sound, almost lulling her to sleep. She loved her woods – HER woods. Catherine walked as if she owned every tree, every sound, every breath in her favorite place.

Ever since her parents passed, Catherine walked her woods every day. As a female, she could not inherit the land, but her uncle allowed her to stay, knowing she loved it so. She knew all the sounds, the creek at it’s lowest, trying to get over the rocks, the animals playing in the leaves, and up the trees, the branches aching with age as they sway in the breeze.

A new sound caught her ear, running, many footfalls. Catherine thought poachers must be in her forest and braced herself to scold them as the sound got louder.

“Help us!” she heard them cry. “Help us!” Catherine looked straight out, saw nothing, looked up the branches, saw nothing, and finally felt a tug o her dress. The short man panting heavily. “Help us!” he cried, ‘We are being chased!”

“We who?” Catherine demanded, and the noises stopped.

“You can hear me?” he asked.

“Of course” Catherine stated. “I am not deaf.”

“And you can see me?” he wondered.

“Of Course, you are not so small as to be hidden from me.”

“My queen!” he yelled as he bowed so low he almost disappeared into the weeds.

“To be seen does not make one above another, why do you say such things?” She asked quietly. “And please, get up.”

“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Thorn, one of seven brothers sworn to find our leader,” he stated. “We were cursed as children, only to be seen and heard by one who could rule our world, and here you are!”

“Nonsense! I am but a simple girl, I have no special powers.” Catherine moved to the side to get a better look at Thorn, and then sat on a tree stump to rest herself. The night was calm and cool, the trees blocking what moon shown down, creating shadows that moved as if dancing together.

“But you can see me, and in the shadows of the trees, and at night, your eyes green, a jade with visionary powers,” Thorn protested, knowing he was right. Thorn stood on another tree stump, so he could look Catherine in the eye. “Beautiful, deep green, like the forest in Spring, your eyes are so special.”

Thorn sighed, “Your eyes match your mother’s, the reflections of her long life show in yours.”

“What do you know of my mother?” Catherine yelled. “Who are you to speak of her?”

“Your mother was the one who cursed us, hoping we would find you one day and save you.” Thorn looked sad as he glanced up at the moon. “We were willing to sacrifice anything for her, our queen.”

“My parents were not royalty, they inherited a castle and a large plot of land, which they kept up. But why am I telling you this, it is hardly your business.” Catherine got up and started walking back through the giant oaks. She would leave him, she decided, and his wild tales, in the dark.

“Catherine stop!” Thorn shouted.

With a start, Catherine turned around. “How do you know my name?”

“Your mother told me.” Thorn Jumped down and made his way to her. “Please come meet my brother and you will see I tell only the truth. We will have you home before daylight, do not fear.”

Catherine nodded and followed the funny man. How did he know of her allergy to sunlight, how did he know to get her home in time, how did he know her name? She pondered these things as they walked through a berm of lavender bushes, the smell so sweet it distracted her. She lost sight of Thorn, she could only see bright lights, bright purples and whites, shining in the darkness around her.

The woods opened to a glen of brilliant colors, she had followed the scent of lavender past the edge she would turn at most days. Now she stood out in a gently sloping field of daisies, poppies, tulips, and so many more she didn’t know their names. The scent was hypnotic, she couldn’t take her eyes off the colors, so many colors.

She felt a tug at her dress and ignored it, who would be so rude as to disturb this vision? The tug became increasingly harsh, then outright fierce. Enough of this, she thought to herself, I must rid myself of this annoyance and return to the flowers.

“What!” She yelled as she turned to see Thorn pulling on her dress from behind. “Why do you disturb me?”

“It isn’t real.” Thorn cried, fearing she would send him off. “I’m trying to save you. It isn’t real.”

“Can you not see the pretty flowers, smell the bushes, hear the wind rustle the grasses?” She asked.

“It isn’t real.”

Catherine turned back and saw she was on the edge of a cliff, dark and thorny bushes surrounded her. A few more steps and she would have fallen to her death. The rustling sound wasn’t grasses after all, it was the quickening of the stream as it went over rocks and turned into a raging river.

“Come away.” Thorn said as he continued to pull on her dress. “You will die in the fall. Come away from the ledge.”

“I don’t understand,” she said finally. “That has never happened before, why now?”

“Your path was different because of me.” Thorn sobbed. “You have never come this far and wouldn’t but for me asking you to meet my brothers.”

“Maybe we should have come to her,” a voice in the woods called. Out came another, shorter, rounder, dwarf. A full silver beard glistened in the moonlight and his eyes were wolf grey, silent and wise.

“Glen, did you follow me?” Thorn asked.

“Yes, I was afraid she would fall for the lavender fairies, and I was right! I came to help you, if needed. You did a good job returning her to the wood, where she is safe.”

“Now, young lady,” Glen continued, ”Let me check for where the fairy bit you putting you in that trance.”

Catherine held out her hands for Glen to see. He examined her long fingers on each side, then her perfect palms until he found the scratch. He reached into his satchel and applied a salve. The scratch healed almost instantly.

“Well, you are a doctor, I see.” Catherine smiled. ‘Thank you.”

“My pleasure, m’lady.” Glen bowed so low the ground almost swallowed him up.

“Where are the rest?” She asked, hoping he would stop giving her so much regal attention.

“The rest of what?” Glen asked.

“Why, your brothers. I was told there were seven of you.”

“They are at home, you will meet them soon. Come.” Glen turned and followed an unseen path through thickets and thorns, bushes and berry trees to an opening filled with grass more green than she had ever seen. She could feel the pulse of the valley, joyful, covered in life awaiting their arrival. The flowers were brilliant, all colors of the night sky reflected on their petals.

In the middle stood the tallest oak she had ever seen. Why she had not seen this from the castle window, she was not sure, for it must be one-hundred feet tall and fifty feet across. To walk around it took a full minute.

“Here we are,” Thorn stated proudly, at the base of the tree. He stood next to a hole in the trunk no bigger than himself.

“I will not fit in there!” Catherine declared. “And it is almost sunrise, I must go!”

“Please, m’lady.” Glen cried. “Just step on the foot of the stoop and let the tree know you are here, the tree will recognize you, I promise.”

Catherine tenderly put one foot on the trunk step and the hole opened to her full height, allowing her to gain access to the tree.

“You were right, Thorn.” Glen said. “She is the one.”

“I knew it.” Thorn yelled. “Come, before the sun comes over the ridge.”

Thorn led Catherine inside the massive doorway and once in the next room, the doorway shrunk to its original size. To the left was a row of shelving, each shelf holding it’ own collection. Shells on one, acorns, leaves of different colors, all from the surrounding forest. One shelf held broken toys.

“People drop things in our woods. We bring them here to keep them safe. “Thorn told her.

To the right were bottles, jars and tins. They appeared to all be full.

“For your healing.” She said to Glen and he nodded.

Straight ahead she found a long table with two side benches and two lead chairs. For dining, or chatting, or reding, she thought, a quiet life for them.

A door a the rear led to a tiny kitchen, neat and clean. The other door led to the bedroom. Seven beds made of wood, all small, all alike save for the blankets. Each bed had a different blanket, hand crocheted, and somehow familiar. One large bed, equally crafted of wood, was along the wall so all seven were near it, like a giant headboard for the tiny beds.

The craftsmanship was beautiful. So ornate with carvings of night creatures, wolves and bats, all over the posts. The blankets each held a different scene. As Catherine approached one bed, the blanket showed a large rose bush with hardly any flowers. The prickers so ornately created she felt if she touched it, she would hurt herself.

“Is this yours?” she asked Thorn.

“Yes, ma’am.” He replied. “We were each stitched a blanket when we were night born, to seal our name to memory forever.”

The blanket was bright and cheerful, despite the dangers it represented. It was almost gleeful with its’ colors, almost happy.

“My bed is here,” Glen said as he moved to the far end of the room. Catherine found another blanket, just as ornate, but the scene was a beautiful meadow, with all the flowers and herbs growing in it that the local healer would need. The blanket appeared more faded, but Glen did appear older than Thorn anyway.

“Are you the oldest of the brothers?” she asked him.

“I am. One every two years, so I am fourteen years older than Olive, with Thorn, Grove, Willow, Dill and Fennel in between.”

“All named in honor of Mother Nature herself, I presume?”

“Yes, ma’am. With us each receiving a blanket made by your mum at our birth.”

“My mother?” Catherine asked. “She died when I was so young, how did you know her?”

“Come, child.” Thorn said. “Time to rest. The sun is up and we need to get some sleep. We are all tired after a long night and we will talk when we awaken.”

“Your bed has been waiting a long time for you to sleep in it.” Glen remarked.” Your father was an excellent wood carver.”

“You know them so well, and I hardly knew them at all.” Catherine moved to the larger bed and laid down, almost asleep as she spoke. “I wish I knew more.”

Once she had drifted off the men covered her up and crawled into their own beds to sleep the day away. None was worried of the location of the others, they knew their way home. In moments the house was quiet save the gentle breathing of a content princess and her new friends.

Grove jumped when Dill let go a sneeze that would wake the dead.

“You nearly scared me out of my skin. I can’t take you hunting, you scare all the prey away. Now I have to start over,” Grove complained.

“Stop being so grumpy, old man, it was just a sneeze.” Dill said. ‘Besides, breakfast hasn’t moved.”

He pointed to the meadow where the deer quietly munched their grasses, not minding the tiny men at all. She bent her head and tore another hunk of flowers from the forest floor and chewed quietly. The arrow went straight through her neck and the little men ran with all their might. As soon as she fell, they filled jars with the fresh blood and cut up some meat to store.

Grove called into the air, almost a perfect howl, and a wolf appeared at his side.

“The rest is yours, my friend,” he said. “Eat well. Come, we need to get back!” He yelled at Dill, who was trying not to sneeze. They ran as fast as they could, but the sun was going to beat them. The she-wolf appeared and they jumped aboard. Dodging low limbs and heavy puddles, she got them to the tree just as the sun came over the ridge.

“Thank you, my dear.” Dill patted her nose, “Now run along and feed your family.”

They walked inside and heard the talking in the bedroom, just for a moment, then it went quiet. When they looked, they saw Glen and Thorn fast asleep, and a girl. A Girl! In the Princess Bed! They found her. They had much to say, but they were tired. They packed away the deer and washed up, getting ready for bed.

Part 2

Catherine awoke to smells she could not place, and noises she had not heard in a long time – laughter and talking. The wash basin had been filled with warm water and a beautifully embroidered towel hung at its’ side. She washed up quickly and re-pinned her long hair into something presentable and walked through the house, following the din.

The trim of the doorway to the kitchen was carved oak, images of wolves, the moon, bats and other night creatures she did not recognize. At the very top was a tall figure in a long-flowing old English looking cape and hat, very formal looking, too formal for these woods. She ran her finger over the carving and sensed – something. Like the wood was talking to her. Oh, but she must still be tired, wood doesn’t talk, or breathe, or grow, not since cut down and carved, anyway.

“Are you the Princess?” she heard a meek little voice ask.

“The others seem to think I am,” she replied. “And who might you be?”

“Fennel.” He answered. “Or number seven, depends on who’s talking. You’re very Boo-Ti-Ful!”

“Thank you, but it’s beautiful.”

“I’m not the smartest, I just sound it out.”

“Try it with me. Be-You-Tea-Full.”

“Beautiful!” Fennel shouted, so excited to be talking to the actual, real, for keeps, princess.

“Well, I see you have met Fennel,” Glen said. “I think that covers us all, let’s see.” He walked into the kitchen and pointed as he spoke. “Thorn, Grove, Willow, Olive, Dill, Fennel, and me, Glen, at your service princess.”

“Oh, my”, she sighed. “So much to remember. All you all named for parts of my forest?

“Yes, Ma’am,” Willow said, stifling a yawn. “Your mother named us for where she found us and embroidered us each a blanket to match.”

“I thought Thorn told me the blankets were made when you were born, to seal your names.”

“I did.” Thorn jumped up and smiled. “We count the day your mother found us as our birthday, since we had no life before that.” He giggled to himself, as if he had told a joke no one else would get.

“I had a life,” Grove sighed. “No one cares about that.”

“I care”, Catherine protested. ‘What did you do before my mother found you.”

“I was a back washer,” he said proudly.

“I’m sorry, a what?”

“I washed the wool pulled off the backs of sheep. I was very important, you can’t sell dirty wool at the market.”

“I see, it sounds most important. How did you get to be in the forest grove where you were found?”

“I was robbed. I was carrying wool to market and the robbers beat me up, stole the wool, and left me in the grove. Your mother found me and nursed me back to health, and your father gave me a new life. Your mother renamed me for where she found me, but I miss my old life. “He sat down, a forlorn look on his face.

“We all have similar storied, princess.” Olive said from behind Glen. “But we all worshipped your mother for saving us and taking us to your father to get a new life.”

“And we agreed to always protect you.” Dill said. “Until our dying day.” ACHOO!

“Oh my, are you all right?” Catherine asked.

“I’m fine, why do you ask?” Dill smiled.

“I am confused.” Catherine sat down at the long table. “Several of you call me princess, one even called me queen, but I am not royalty, that is only given by blood, and my parents were not graced with that life. We did live in a castle, but my father couldn’t work in the daylight, he suffered my afflictions, so he was a grave digger. My mother was a home maker, and each day as dawn approached, she would go out to find my father to ensure he was home before the dawn. So, why, do you address me as royalty?”

“Because your father was the King of the Forest, the Ruler of the Night, the Keeper of all Souls. As his daughter, you are a Princess. When he died, you should have become Queen.” Glen moved about the kitchen pouring water for all, leaving Catherine’s glass empty. He went to the ice box and pulled a pitcher out and poured a glass for her.

“Red Ale, my favorite,” she squealed and gulped it down.

“When your mother passed, the female who moved into the castle kicked us all out, but we had promised your parents we would keep an eye on you.” Glen took the pitcher to put it away.

“May I have some more, please,” Catherine asked.

“Of course, my dear,” he poured her another glass before putting it away. ‘With your mother gone, no one came to warn your father of the suns arrival and finally one day he was caught.”

“How did he die?” she asked.

“Burned up, what do you think,” Grove huffed.

Catherine gasped. “Is that what this disease does?”

“Yes.” Willow said from his hiding place behind Fennel. “So bad is the sun for the likes of you, and us.”

“Do you all suffer as well?” Catherine looked at each one, trying to see if their skin was as white as hers, a sign of the disease, but none was.

“No, princess,” Thorn replied. “We are sworn to aid you, just like your parents, in any way we can. As such, we have not seen the sun in years, and it may harm us.”

“I do not wish harm on anyone. To be safe, we will remain out of the light.” Catherine agreed.

Part 3

“What is that?” Catherine asked. “Do you hear that crying?”

“No, princess,” they all replied in unison.

“Just outside, something in extreme pain.” She got up and went to the door, which grew to her size once again. It was dusk, but not dark.

“Please be careful.” Fennel cried.

“I will stay in the shadows, I must go, my forest is upset.”

Catherine ran, careful to avoid the long rays of light and came upon a wounded wolf, crying softly.

“Do not cry,” she told the wolf, “I am here to help.”

“Get away!” the hunter yelled. ‘It will kill you!”

“It will no more hurt me than these trees. Who are you and how dare you come to my forest?” she yelled at him.

“I am the huntsman, sent to find a lost girl, have you seen one?”

“I have seen no girl, now be gone from my forest so I may help my friend.” She waved her hand at him, dismissing him as she turned to the wolf.

“Well, you could not be her. You are no girl, and I was told she was cruel and uncaring, ugly, both inside and out. You care too much for things, even those that will hurt you.” He turned to leave. “You should come with me, leave the animal to die, serves it right for attacking me.”

“You must go, before I become upset, for the forest will side with me in destroying you,” she warned.

“Leave the wolf to die!” he shouted.

“What wolf?” she asked as she folded her arms and batted her eyes. ‘I see no wolf, and neither do you.” She stared into his eyes, ribbons of color flowing through her eyes put him into a trance.

“No, I see nothing,” he replied, softness in his voice.

“Sleep now, and remember nothing of my forest,” she cooed.

The huntsman laid down in the pine needles and slept. So deeply he slept that he snored, loudly.

Catherine turned to the wolf who had an arrow in her shoulder. The little men came running up with moss, leaves and berries and quickly began to treat the wound. Catherine pulled the arrow out and the wolf howled in pain.

“We will take care of you,” she told the wolf. “You will feel better after my friends have tended your wounds.”

“I told you she was the princess,” Thorn said. Grove let out his usual grumpy growl.

“You may be right, but I don’t have to like it.” Grove huffed.

When the huntsman awoke, he remembered little of how he got to the woods and none of what happened after. It’s as if his memories had been sucked out of him, making him tired beyond tired. He knows he slept, and dreamt of the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

His mind must be playing tricks on him. Her raven-dark hair was long and flowing, even though pinned up, several strands wisped in the breeze. Her eyes pierced him to his soul, as if searching his inner-most thoughts. How he longed to stroke her black hair and kiss those blood-red lips.

But wait! That was the description the Queen gave of the child, the CHLD, she wanted returned. ‘Ugly black matted hair’ the Queen had said. ‘Cruel temper, doesn’t love anything’ Yet he had seen her care for a wolf. No one ugly on the inside cares for animals as she did.

The huntsman arose and shook off the last of his sleep, and the moss he had been covered with for warmth. Who covered him, he wondered, but brushed it off when he heard a horse approaching.

“My Queen”, he bowed. “Why are you in the forest?”

“You did not return as expected with the lost child. I was worried you had fallen victim to the thieves banished to these woods.” She sat straight and rigid, reins firmly held so the steed could not bolt, much less move to eat the grasses around it.

“I saw no child, only a half-grown woman, in these woods. Too old to be who you are looking for, my Queen.”

“You fool. The child has made a pact with the devil, she grows every time she gets fed Red Ale. Was anyone with her?” The Queen was yelling from atop her horse. The horse reared up and pawed the air.

“There were some short men with her, I think. My memories are not good, I was ill and fell asleep.”

“You are useless to me,” The Queen said. ‘She has poisoned you already. I relieve you of your duties to this court, be gone!”

The Queen turned her horse and rode off in the direction of the castle. In the daylight it looked run down, old and even tired. Like it too had been drained.

The huntsman sat on a log, deciding his next steps. “I wish I could see her again,” he said aloud. When he looked down, he saw what he thought to be tiny footprints. Looking around for danger, he followed them to a giant oak tree. There was a tiny door near the trunk, too small for the huntsman to enter. The footmarks let right to the door.

“I shall wait for you, m’lady, for you have stolen my heart,” he sighed. Once again the huntsman sat, watching the woods, keeping danger away, but now he understood the danger was the Queen, not the girl. His sense of commitment to the young lady overwhelmed him, now that the Queen had dismissed him from her service.

As darkness set, he felt the ground shake, a thousand footsteps approaching. He jumped to his feet, ready to defend the tree and his love. When he landed on his feet, there was no shaking. He turned to see the tree awaken, stretching it’s limbs like stiff arms to the sky. Standing a little taller so the door grew to his size.

Then she appeared. Pale white skin alit by the moon, and that wonderful raven hair. He was mesmerized.

“M’lady”, he bowed, then fell to his knees. ‘I am your protector.”

“Have you gone mad? You tried to kill my friend, the wolf,” she protested. The tree shook and leaves fell, brushing her cheek so softly. She reached out to the tree and closed her eyes. Silently, she heard the whole story.

“I see.” She finally said. “You may stay and guard me and my forest. AND my friends. Animal, human, dwarf or tree. Understand?”

“Yes, m’lady.” The hunter rose and nodded to the seven men.

“You are just like your mother. Come.” Glen motioned to the pair. “Let us celebrate our new pact with some Red Ale!”

Part 4

As time passed, the wolf had puppies who grew to love and play around the old oak tree, waiting for the girl to come and talk to them in her sweet soothing voice. The queen grew older and with each passing year cared less and less for the castle, or anything else. She never again saw the hunter or the girl. Often she heard echoes through the castle late at night, but never left her bed chamber to see what may be the cause. She would call to her servants to check on the noise, only to remember they all left her many years before.

The forest thrived under the watchful eye of Catherine and the huntsman. Her seven helpers keeping her busy with chores, problems, beauty blooming and her necessary red ale. On nights when they were feeling mischievous, they would go to the castle and whisper into the corners, causing echoes in the halls, just for fun.

The huntsman complained the red ale tasted like cold blood and didn’t want to drink it. The seven tried to explain it was much better warm, just hold the chalice in your hands for a spell until it warms up, but he protested every time they offered it. But on days, no, nights, when he didn’t drink the ale, he became sluggish and ill, and eventually would take the glass from Glen to soothe his stomach pains.

Catherine’s uncle took back the castle when the Queen finally passed and sent word out across the lands that should he pass away, the castle goes to his long-lost niece, Catherine. It was unheard of that a woman should inherit such a fine piece of property, but the courts agreed he had no other relatives. He could not prove where Catherine was, and so when he passed, word was sent across the lands again that the castle was hers. If she did not move in before a year’s time, the castle would belong to the land baron.

One long evening the land baron came to see if the castle had been occupied, for he was to take over the following night, but he found it to be busy with people. Catherine answered the door herself, the most beautiful girl he had seen, appearing not to have aged a day since he last saw her over 20 years before. He signed the papers agreeing that she was the true owner, and went on his way, leaving her to the party she appeared to be throwing for some small children he could barely see through the windows.

After all the other family was long since gone, the queen long since buried, and Catherine’s uncle given a monument on the property, it had been over 10 years since she was last in the castle, over 20 since seeing the neighbors, and 25 since her parents had passed. Catherine was still the most beautiful girl in the forest, and now in the castle. The castle breathed a sigh of relief as it knew it would now be taken care of by the little men. Catherine’s beauty never faded, and never would, with the help of her seven friends, the huntsman, and her red ale.

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