daughter, who he promise to take around market. She very pretty girl with hair all shiny shiny and skin like moon on water. So he stride through woods, following way marked on terrible map, and he look for red tree.
Now, is funny thing: see, he know full well all village folk just silly billies with their fears and superstitions, but as light fade and shadows grow long and dark, woodcutter, he start to find woods all scary and sinister. He feel like when he was little boy. And he realize he see and hear no birds and no animals, all he hear is own footsteps, fern and bracken under feet, sometimes crunch of twig that make heart thump harder in chest. And it get darker and all little shadows join up into one big shadow, like monster made of night that loom over him.
Now woodcutter, he is used to forests and woods, but even so, he find he feel afraid, just a little bit. Is very annoying and he tell himself off. Silly man! And he set down his pack and he make camp for night. And he make nice fire – to keep warm, not because he is afraid of dark, oh no. And when he sleep and he keep waking up, is because ground is hard and uncomfortable, not because sound of wind through high branches make him anxious, and not because of dreams of pale figure, glowing all silver, walking toward him with arms all outstretched.
Woodcutter wake at dawn. Fire is out, and he coldand tired, and he not think in straight lines, and dreams he had still in head little bit, like morning mist not cleared, like echoes. But then he start to see right, and head start to clear, and echoing sounds from dream are still there. Is real sound, not dream. And is close.
Something coming.
He really scared like little boy now, so he do what little boy do and he think:
I climb tree and hide
. When he little boy he hide from village children up tree. Most people is never looking up. Is good hiding place. So he grab pack and he look all quick for good tree, and he very lucky man because straight ahead is very good tree. Bark is pale and stand out in twilight, like is saying: ‘Pick me! Pick me!’ And has low branches make easy to climb.
He race up quick (is like up ladder is so easy) and he find comfy branch, is maybe twenty feet up, and he settle. And he stay very still and he look down through branches and he look for whatever is making noise. Is rustling leaves and cracking twigs, and is louder, so must be closer now, but still he cannot see what. He shift body, just very little bit, and all slow and quiet, looking down all different angles, through all different gaps in criss-cross branches. Dawn light is all broken up and branches all shiny frosty, they go all wobbly wibbly for his eyes, make head dizzy. He blink all tight and shake head and he look again, and he hear his own breathing, like sound of sawing, and see breath all clouds in cold morning air.
And he wait and he watch, and noise still is louder, but still he see nothing. And still, and still … Then – at last! – he glimpse some moving thing in down below. Not silver ghost, though. Is something dark. What is? He remember chamberlain talk of bandits in woods. Is man maybe? He see again something, just for little moment, and he hear all snuffling and grunts. Is no man. Then it move to where he see good through big gap in branches, and he see is boar! Is big fat boar! And boar is very not ghost! Woodcutter, he laugh, all relieved. Very short laugh like stab or punch. ‘Ha!’ Like that. He feel like fool. He laugh again, loud, with head back and mouth all open wide.
This when he see. Through tangly branches above is something glinting all sparkles near top of tree. He decide to climb and see. Is easy at first, like before, like tree is helping. Always is place for foot to go, always is branch for hand to grip. So he climb up very fast, and he keep seeing glinting shining metal above but only little bit, and always not clear what is.
But then is tricky bit. Is place where big branch has broken
Now, is funny thing: see, he know full well all village folk just silly billies with their fears and superstitions, but as light fade and shadows grow long and dark, woodcutter, he start to find woods all scary and sinister. He feel like when he was little boy. And he realize he see and hear no birds and no animals, all he hear is own footsteps, fern and bracken under feet, sometimes crunch of twig that make heart thump harder in chest. And it get darker and all little shadows join up into one big shadow, like monster made of night that loom over him.
Now woodcutter, he is used to forests and woods, but even so, he find he feel afraid, just a little bit. Is very annoying and he tell himself off. Silly man! And he set down his pack and he make camp for night. And he make nice fire – to keep warm, not because he is afraid of dark, oh no. And when he sleep and he keep waking up, is because ground is hard and uncomfortable, not because sound of wind through high branches make him anxious, and not because of dreams of pale figure, glowing all silver, walking toward him with arms all outstretched.
Woodcutter wake at dawn. Fire is out, and he coldand tired, and he not think in straight lines, and dreams he had still in head little bit, like morning mist not cleared, like echoes. But then he start to see right, and head start to clear, and echoing sounds from dream are still there. Is real sound, not dream. And is close.
Something coming.
He really scared like little boy now, so he do what little boy do and he think:
I climb tree and hide
. When he little boy he hide from village children up tree. Most people is never looking up. Is good hiding place. So he grab pack and he look all quick for good tree, and he very lucky man because straight ahead is very good tree. Bark is pale and stand out in twilight, like is saying: ‘Pick me! Pick me!’ And has low branches make easy to climb.
He race up quick (is like up ladder is so easy) and he find comfy branch, is maybe twenty feet up, and he settle. And he stay very still and he look down through branches and he look for whatever is making noise. Is rustling leaves and cracking twigs, and is louder, so must be closer now, but still he cannot see what. He shift body, just very little bit, and all slow and quiet, looking down all different angles, through all different gaps in criss-cross branches. Dawn light is all broken up and branches all shiny frosty, they go all wobbly wibbly for his eyes, make head dizzy. He blink all tight and shake head and he look again, and he hear his own breathing, like sound of sawing, and see breath all clouds in cold morning air.
And he wait and he watch, and noise still is louder, but still he see nothing. And still, and still … Then – at last! – he glimpse some moving thing in down below. Not silver ghost, though. Is something dark. What is? He remember chamberlain talk of bandits in woods. Is man maybe? He see again something, just for little moment, and he hear all snuffling and grunts. Is no man. Then it move to where he see good through big gap in branches, and he see is boar! Is big fat boar! And boar is very not ghost! Woodcutter, he laugh, all relieved. Very short laugh like stab or punch. ‘Ha!’ Like that. He feel like fool. He laugh again, loud, with head back and mouth all open wide.
This when he see. Through tangly branches above is something glinting all sparkles near top of tree. He decide to climb and see. Is easy at first, like before, like tree is helping. Always is place for foot to go, always is branch for hand to grip. So he climb up very fast, and he keep seeing glinting shining metal above but only little bit, and always not clear what is.
But then is tricky bit. Is place where big branch has broken
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