name.’
She
followed my hand as I spelt out her name with a stick in the hard earth. It
took several minutes of encouragement to get her to copy me. She did so and
when she was finished she surveyed her work. The effect was uneven and
illegible but I could tell that she was pleased with herself.
She
pointed to me and I wrote my name, which again she copied.
‘Do
you have any family?’
From
her sack, Celeste handed me a piece of bark etched with a woman’s face. The
eyes were almond shaped, the lips full, though there were deep frown lines.
‘Is
this your mother?’
She
nodded.
‘Do
you want to try and find her?’
She
nodded again but it was with a little less enthusiasm. With further questioning
I found that she once lived on a farm with others, perhaps her grandparents,
far north from here. She drew a small map of the woods. She indicated that we
would shortly be on the other side then pointed to an area much further east. I
despaired that it was not in the direction we were heading. Perhaps later, when
I had finished my quest, I could help her find her family.
Continuing
our journey the next day, clusters of oak started to thin, and meadows and
wider skies lay just ahead. The sound of wood chopping brought relief, as I had
begun to fear that this lonely woodland would never end.
A
recently used trail led to the crest of a valley, and from there the path continued downward towards a small village. Behind the village was a
tall guard of trees, and the endless stretch of darkness beyond this point
– as indicated at the edge of my map – was the Black Forest.
In
the village, clouds of thick wood smoke hovered over crudely thatched roofs,
and the smell of salty bacon cooking reminded us that we hadn’t eaten. Ravens
picked at bloodied animal skins thrown in a heap on the ground, vegetable
gardens were untended, and live animals were tethered on short ropes that
allowed them barely enough room to walk. These folk survived on little,
and did little to survive.
Strange
crosses were scratched above hut doorways. Some had the remains of animal
carcasses at the foot of the door. We passed a man who ignored our greeting. He
stood with shoulders braced and fists clenched to warn off our intrusion. These
people were not welcoming.
Celeste
grabbed my arm and shook her head. She had a bad feeling about the place or
maybe a memory. I assured her that I would not leave her side.
Several
children had cornered a chicken and laughed at its bursts of failed flight in
an attempt to be free. They stopped their game when they saw us.
‘Are
you the children stealers?’ A small child had bravely broken from the safety of
his group to speak with us. His face and hands smeared with days of no washing,
and the hem of his long nightgown was heavily soiled from brown earth.
I
felt slight nausea and then it passed. Perhaps it was the lack of food. I
patted the child on the head and assured him I was no child stealer. I asked
where his father was and he pointed to a house.
‘The
bad fairies suck out your blood and use your intestines to make their boot
laces,’ he continued, before racing off, presumably to warn his father that the
children stealers were coming.
I
looked beside me at Celeste whose olive skin had gone ashen. She looked back at
me as if I was a spectre .
We
passed two women with bare feet and grey pinafores over coarsely woven dresses.
They ran from us dropping their pails. After spying our approach, another woman
called to her children to come to her side.
The
brave boy, who was watched with awe by the litter of children, led us into a
house that was slightly bigger than the others. A group of men sat around a
table and as Celeste and I entered they stopped their dice game to give us an
unwelcome stare.
The
children did not step into the room but peered in through a small window. They
were nervous but I wondered that it may not be from
the bad fairies, rather the men. One of the men told them to
She
followed my hand as I spelt out her name with a stick in the hard earth. It
took several minutes of encouragement to get her to copy me. She did so and
when she was finished she surveyed her work. The effect was uneven and
illegible but I could tell that she was pleased with herself.
She
pointed to me and I wrote my name, which again she copied.
‘Do
you have any family?’
From
her sack, Celeste handed me a piece of bark etched with a woman’s face. The
eyes were almond shaped, the lips full, though there were deep frown lines.
‘Is
this your mother?’
She
nodded.
‘Do
you want to try and find her?’
She
nodded again but it was with a little less enthusiasm. With further questioning
I found that she once lived on a farm with others, perhaps her grandparents,
far north from here. She drew a small map of the woods. She indicated that we
would shortly be on the other side then pointed to an area much further east. I
despaired that it was not in the direction we were heading. Perhaps later, when
I had finished my quest, I could help her find her family.
Continuing
our journey the next day, clusters of oak started to thin, and meadows and
wider skies lay just ahead. The sound of wood chopping brought relief, as I had
begun to fear that this lonely woodland would never end.
A
recently used trail led to the crest of a valley, and from there the path continued downward towards a small village. Behind the village was a
tall guard of trees, and the endless stretch of darkness beyond this point
– as indicated at the edge of my map – was the Black Forest.
In
the village, clouds of thick wood smoke hovered over crudely thatched roofs,
and the smell of salty bacon cooking reminded us that we hadn’t eaten. Ravens
picked at bloodied animal skins thrown in a heap on the ground, vegetable
gardens were untended, and live animals were tethered on short ropes that
allowed them barely enough room to walk. These folk survived on little,
and did little to survive.
Strange
crosses were scratched above hut doorways. Some had the remains of animal
carcasses at the foot of the door. We passed a man who ignored our greeting. He
stood with shoulders braced and fists clenched to warn off our intrusion. These
people were not welcoming.
Celeste
grabbed my arm and shook her head. She had a bad feeling about the place or
maybe a memory. I assured her that I would not leave her side.
Several
children had cornered a chicken and laughed at its bursts of failed flight in
an attempt to be free. They stopped their game when they saw us.
‘Are
you the children stealers?’ A small child had bravely broken from the safety of
his group to speak with us. His face and hands smeared with days of no washing,
and the hem of his long nightgown was heavily soiled from brown earth.
I
felt slight nausea and then it passed. Perhaps it was the lack of food. I
patted the child on the head and assured him I was no child stealer. I asked
where his father was and he pointed to a house.
‘The
bad fairies suck out your blood and use your intestines to make their boot
laces,’ he continued, before racing off, presumably to warn his father that the
children stealers were coming.
I
looked beside me at Celeste whose olive skin had gone ashen. She looked back at
me as if I was a spectre .
We
passed two women with bare feet and grey pinafores over coarsely woven dresses.
They ran from us dropping their pails. After spying our approach, another woman
called to her children to come to her side.
The
brave boy, who was watched with awe by the litter of children, led us into a
house that was slightly bigger than the others. A group of men sat around a
table and as Celeste and I entered they stopped their dice game to give us an
unwelcome stare.
The
children did not step into the room but peered in through a small window. They
were nervous but I wondered that it may not be from
the bad fairies, rather the men. One of the men told them to
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