Back then, before the Beast came to the Land Behind
the Mountains, back before a curse was set upon the women of that land, there
lived a girl.
Her father had died long before she was born, and
her mother didn't re-marry until much later. So, the task of naming
the child fell on her mother's shoulder. And she named her daughter
Sun-On-Moss, though it was usually shortened down to Moss.
They lived in Darklight village, a part of the
Crescent Tribes, near the Gray Wood. And it was the Gray Wood that
caused Moss's life to become a story told and retold. Though her
part is mostly forgotten. The people of Southlands, as it is now
called, usually only remember her elder brother, Foxeye. The boy who
was lost in the Gray Woods - and returned.
But here, her story will be told.
*****
In the year that the mango crop was struck with
blight, Foxeye came of age to make his passage; he was now
seventeen. Moss was fifteen, but that was no
matter. Nothing of importance happened to a girl at that
age. The girls of Darklight never married until sixteen or, on
occasion, older. Her birthday was a little over looked in the shadow
of her brother's rite into manhood.
Moss loved her brother, and he loved
her. When little, and had time to play, it was always with each
other, despite the difference in age.
Moss stood near the stake and waved him off, calling
blessings that the Lights Above would shield him. Watching as he
disappeared into the Wood. She had no doubt he would return - and he would
get something amazing, at that. As they had gotten older, they had
spent more and more time apart. Girls were not supposed to spend their
free hours with the boys like that, even if they were brother and
sister. But still would talk, when they could.
And they would wonder about the stories
told. About the beasts young men would bring back from the Gray
Wood.
That had been Foxeye's dream. He wanted
to kill a beast that would take him down through their land's lore
forever. Moss would laugh or smile quietly. She didn't
quite believe what the old ones would say. The Gray Woods were
probably roamed by wolves and panthers - dangerous animals, but nothing
fantastic. Whatever Foxeye got would be amazing, but not
magical.
Still, she wished.... All her life... she
had wanted to enter those trees. She had always been too scared to
do it, though. Not without a rope tied around her so she could find
a way back.
But even ropes do not protect as well as one might
hope.
Foxeye had been in the Gray Woods for two
days. It was a long time, longer than any lad of Darklight village
had ever been in there.
And then... the rope went slack. Moss was
in her family's hut, preparing a meal when she heard the cries. She
hurried out and caught the words people were saying.
"... He is lost."
"The rope..."
"My brother, his son was lost the same
way."
Her skin turned an eerie pale, and Moss ran.
Men were pulling the rope out, and she saw the end
appear; frayed and cut, without her brother. Foxeye was lost.
*****
It cannot be said that Sun-On-Moss was a
coward. No more did a day pass after her brother was lost before she
went to the gorge by the Gray Wood again. It was deserted now, and
she should have been dressed in red, with her family, mourning for her brother. Weeping
over the loss of one close to you was not given much time amongst the Crescent
People. Three days of silence in their home, red for the dead one's
still blood, and then life went on.
But Moss was not at home, nor was she wearing red.
Her dress of skins was a plain brown. And
she approached the edge of gorge looking determined. Hidden under it
was a look of fear, but Moss tried to ignore that feeling.
She stepped to the edge... and began to climb
down. The rocks were sharp and hot with the heat of the
day. And her hair in a long, thick dark braid was heavy on her back
and seemed to gather the moisture from the air. But she didn't stop,
not until she was at the bottom. She rested there for a few minutes,
allowing herself a few sips from her water skin. But she didn't
drink much before she tucked it back in her sack. It would need to
be saved.
She was going into the Woods. She was
going to find her brother. And she wouldn't come back - though she
might die in there, and her bones lie in that foreign place away from all she
knew - she wouldn't come back until she found Foxeye.
*****
There was a river at the bottom. Boats
were fastened to the shore. Most of them were on the near side, but
one... only one was across it, where the Gray Woods began.
Moss climbed into one on her shore and untied
it. Immediately the river took hold of the boat, and Moss had to
struggle with the paddles. Her arms screamed with the pain of the
exertion as she tried to make it across, but she wasn't strong enough! She
couldn't do it! And the river was carrying her away.
Her eyes darted frantically around, hoping for...
she didn't know what.
Uselessly, she shouted out. One word, and
that word was lost in the roar of the
river: "Help!" But there was no one to hear her
cry, and Moss knew it... or so she thought.
Her hands still held the paddles. With
one last desperate attempt to control the boat, she struggled to push against
the water.
To Moss, it felt as if hands had suddenly grabbed a
hold of the handles next to her's. And the paddles pushed in her
grasp, rowing against the current, taking her to shore.
The boat struck the land. Moss sat,
shocked, then came to herself and jumped out. She ran along the
shore, and when she glanced back, the boat had been swept away.
She journeyed beside the Wood until she came back to
the place where Foxeye's boat was tied. There, she took three things
from her sack: a stake, a hammer, and a coil of rope. Moss pounded
the first into the ground, tied the rope to it, and then the other end of the
rope around herself. Filling her skin quickly from the river, she
turned back to the Gray Wood. The place she had always dreamed of
entering. But in her games of childhood, she had always been a courageous
exploring warrior maiden, setting off to discover what lay
beyond. Not searching for her lost brother; and never
scared. And she was scared, for Foxeye, and for herself.
But she had to, for Foxeye. For him.
She ran into the trees, not stopping until she was
far in, for fear that she would be too afraid and go back.
Moss was in the Gray Woods.
*****
Nothing happened. The Wood was quiet,
seemed darker than she might have thought, but nothing unusual like the
stories. Nothing unusual, except for how still it was. In
these trees, the softest song of a bird would sing like a battle
cry. And Moss was weary of the silence.
Still... there was nothing to be afraid of
here. She carefully stepped through the trees, parting the
underbrush. Hours must have passed for her, but what little of the
sky she could glimpse through the branches showed no sign of darkness. If
Moss noticed the strangeness of that (for it had been late afternoon when she
had descended from her village, and must be near night now), it didn't bother
her. And she searched through the Gray Woods for hours. Finally,
her legs could carry her no more. Moss located a firm tree and
climbed it. The bark was rougher than any in Darklight, and the
branches larger. But it was a tree, and Moss had climbed them since
she was old enough to remember. She had gone up trees to pluck fruit
for gathering, or when playing with her brother.
Moss spoke in a near
whisper. "Foxeye... I'll find you.... I will, brother."
And she settled in her branches, and fell
asleep. It was calm and quiet all the while Moss slept, until...
When she awoke, there was talking. Moss
didn't move, trying to figure out where it was coming from.
"No, no - you mustn’t go along da River - go by
a Rudiobus Path - that's is the way to go." A second voice
responded, deeper, and though the first was spoken quickly, this was quicker.
"Da Merry Folk? - No, - they wouldne let me -
they wouldne let others - why not da River? - He's a pal a mine."
"He's is not!"
The speakers babbled and squabbled. They
seemed to want to go somewhere, and were arguing over the best way to get
there. Moss had pinpointed where the voices were coming from: above
her. She looked up, but couldn't see anything. Still, she
could hear them up there, they sounded right above her head.
Anxious to find out who it was, Moss shifted to try
and better see. The tree shook with her movements, and the voices
stopped.
She stopped too, scared of what might happen.
"What's a that?" The first
voice asked, hissing out a whisper.
"Oh, a! - down there - you see?"
There was a fluttering noise. With no
time for Moss to do anything, they suddenly appeared on the branch right there,
the space of an arm above her head.
The creatures she saw were almost like
birds. Almost: their bodies were like an eagle - except for the
talons, which were gnarled and three of them turned the wrong
way. But their heads were what stood out. For their heads
looked like a man's.
Moss opened her mouth and tried to speak, but all
that came out was a noise like a croak.
"Here's - what's a is it?" The
one on the left spoke, it was the one with the higher voice. Its
feathers were brown, while its companion's were gray spotted with
white. The gray and white one didn't answer, but eyed the
girl. And his talons curled.
Moss scrambled back, trying to get out of the
tree. She fell. Her rope caught on branches when she
fell, and tightened around her middle as the line went taunt. Moss
panicked, she couldn't breathe! Wildly she pulled at the rope, and
it came loose, dropping her three more feet to the ground.
She lay there, struggling to get in air, and saw
those things swoop down.
Moss pushed herself up to stand. The
creature landed in the lowest branch of the tree.
"What's you? - Rudiobus? - Butannaziba? -
or..."
Moss burst in before it could speak
again. "I am Sun-On-Moss, daughter of Quickhawk, from Darklight
village."
"Oh - mortal - sounds a mortal - a
mortal!" The gray and white one said.
It flapped its wings, and Moss held up her sack in
case she should need to defend herself. Her arms shook and felt
weak, and she dropped the bag.
She took a step back. The gray bird flew
away with a flap, calling to its companion. The brown one paused a
moment, and looked at her, almost kindly. But it was hard to take
comfort from a beast half human half animal, especially when they had talons so
sharp.
"You go back - not meant for a here - no, no,
no, not for Woods - stay off Paths - off da Paths, not for a you! - listen to
me!" Then took flight and disappeared.
Moss crumpled to the ground and lay there for a long
time.
*****
Of course, eventually, her water skin began to get
low. Moss's rope caught on the trees and underbrush as she
went. Searching and calling for Foxeye. Her voice grew hoarse,
and she went quiet.
The creatures had spoken of a river; she might find
that, somewhere in here. The Gray Woods scared her. There
were those... things, and the quiet and, not matter how far she went the she
didn't run out of rope. That worried her.
Food had been packed, and Moss ate some of
it. Then she went on.
But when she made her way through the Gray Wood this
time, something was different. One step and it
changed. The air grew dark. Moss had never thought air
could do something like growing dark, but it did. And smells
vanished, except for one thing - smoke. It was not the fresh smoke Moss
would smell from a cooking fire, but heavy, horrible, choking smoke.
She coughed, wiping at her eyes. And then
seeing what gave off the smoke. Through the trees, she could see
them. Women, dancing and whirling, made of smoke. They
shifted, becoming long and tall, short, or like a horse, with long legs.
And interchanging with each other. Four
of them - two broke apart, now six. They danced. Some
faded away and disappeared. New ones came.
Moss backed away. A scream wanted out,
but they would hear her.
She stumbled back, and just as suddenly as it had
happened, it all disappeared. And Moss ran away as far and as long
as she could.
*****
The trees around her never changed, and she grew
used to them; it was better than before. If everything was calm like
this, she wouldn't mind. She liked the quiet better than what else
the Wood was capable of doing to her. Then, after a long time, she saw a
break up ahead. She stopped.
"Foxeye?" She
called. Then she said again, louder, "Foxeye! Brother,
are you there?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Moss thought she saw
something. She turned to it, but there was nothing but trees.
Moss looked back up ahead, and hurried toward
it. The trees began to thin and Moss stepped into a clearing.
She stopped, taken back.
Everything was dead. The grass was brown,
and there were stumps of trees. The ground dipped slightly in front
of her. And the ground in the dip was cracked and bare.
Moss hesitated. It almost looked like...
a path. Those - those things, the bird-beasts, they had warned her
about paths, or something to that extent. But, if they had said paths were
bad, wouldn't paths be good? Moss was unsure. They, of
course, couldn't be good. Not if they looked like that. The
stories she had always thought ridiculous - Lights Above, how wrong she was! -
never had good coming from the Gray Wood. Any beasts within them
were evil. The Wood itself was evil, too.
"Who is there?"
Her grip around the sack tightened, and Moss
gasped. The voice had come from the ground, from the dead cracked
ground.
Moss took a step back, then
spoke. "I am Sun-On-Moss... from Darklight village."
It was quiet, then it seemed to her like the ground
sighed.
"Ah... I knew someone would come... He told me
so, and I listen, now."
Moss stared at the ground in wonder and
fear. If it weren't for Foxeye, she would run out now back from the
Gray Woods and up the gorge to the Land Behind the Mountains. Of
course, if it wasn't for Foxeye, she wouldn't have come into the Woods in the
first place.
It spoke again.
"I didn't used to. I didn't used to
listen... I was a river, once...." It paused, and Moss gazed at
what she know realized was a dried up stream bed. It called itself a
river, but was too small for that.
"I can take you where you
need." The stream bed said. Moss bit her lip.
It went on. "Come, follow
me. Step into me, I will show you where."
Moss stepped back away from it, but a whisper spoke
in her ear.
Follow. Trust Me, and trust
him.
She could trust the voice. She knew she
could, and Moss did not question where it came from.
Her feet were tired and sore, and the dust of the
stream bed stuck to them as she stepped in.
"Good," The voice murmured from beneath
her. "Walk along me. And let me tell you my
story."
Each step was cautious, but Moss followed the way
before her. And Moss listened. This is what the old,
dried stream said:
"I had a name, back when I was wet and free and
water ran over me. But I do not use it anymore." It
paused, and Moss did not say anything. She kept her eyes ahead to
where she went, but the clearing with the dead grass and stumps went on
forever.
"I once met Goldstone, and we would run
together, our water mixing. And I heard His voice, but I did not
listen. He said He loved me..... Maybe I believed Him, I
don't recall. But I did not listen. I was young; my water
was fresh, and I was free... I was free...."
He - somehow, it seemed a he - was
silent. Moss spoke. "What happened?"
"I dried up. Lume is bright, and
does not mean to be, but is cruel. My water was taken, and no more
flowed. What was left seeped into me, and then I was
dry. Dry and alone; and I knew, then - I know now. I am
still here, but I am dry. He loved me. The One Who Names
Them loved me." The last words sounded wondering and
prideful, and the stream spoke as though he clung to them.
The stream came to an end, and the trees started.
"Here, go here." The stream bed
said.
"Go into the Woods now, and go where you will
find him. He told me he is near."
His words made no sense. Moss stepped
from the dry bed, and paused a moment. The stream murmured again,
softly.
"He loved me... but I am dry, and I did not
listen. I still hear Him. And I heard you would
come. And I heard about him... and I saw him. I was told
by Him. But it is too late; He will not want a cracked bed that once
flowed with water."
"But if he loved you so, would not he love you
still?" The words burst out of the girl.
A sound startled Moss, and she glanced around in
bewilderment. It sounded like water dashing against
rocks. She did not understand, but that is how rivers and streams
laugh - even if they have no more water.
"Yes!" The stream
cried. "Yes! I come to Him.
The voice died aware. And Moss stood
there for a moment before she continued into the Wood.
*****
Her water ran out. The skin was
dry. But Foxeye was in the Gray Wood still.
"Fox- Foxeye...."
She called, and stumbled, tripping on a
root. Moss did not get up. She let go of her sack and
empty skin, pushing them away. A few tears trickled on her
cheeks. "Foxeye!" She shouted. "You
cannot be lost! I'm here, I came to find you!"
The tears poured out. Moss could not go
on. She wasn't strong enough, she couldn't last on her
own. She had no water.
"Where are you, brother? Help
me..." She would have said, 'find you.' but could not go on.
Without hope, her face pressed to the ground, and
alone.
But she was not. Moss did not realize
that until she felt something press her hand. Fear shot through her,
but then it was overwhelmed with something else. Something flowed
into her with that touch. And when Moss slowly turned herself and looked
up, she saw a man crouched next to her. He was not a creature, like
those women, and the bird-beasts, but he did not seem the same as her
either. His skin was pale, and his hair not quite as dark as the
people from the Land. But Moss sensed there was more than that.
Moss stared up at him, and the last tear slipped
down her face.
"Do not cry, Moss." He
spoke. His voice was gentle but firm.
Words pushed at her mouth, and her face quivered,
but the words would not come out.
His right hand held hers, and his left reached and
wiped away the tears that clung to her face. "I have been
here. Will you listen?"
She shook her head. "I am not of
your land," She finally said.
The man smiled, but his face looked sad.
"You are not of this land, no. But
even if that would matter, you are mine."
"No," She said, and part of her told her
not to be scared, but she was. "I am not. And you
don't want me. I... I am worn - I would not do you any good.”
"Moss, I do not mean to harm you."
Her face shook, and she looked
down. "Even... I still... I am not worth
anything. These Woods have scared me, and I can't find
him." She didn't explain, for he seemed to
understand. He seemed to already know. "I'm so
weak... tired... thirsty... please...."
His hand stroked her hair, and he spoke in a kind
voice. "I can help you Moss. Stand
up. Come with me."
Moss shook her head. "I'm not of
your land. I belong to the Land Behind the Mountain. I
need to go back. I am not like you, here."
"Would I not love you still?"
Moss looked up. The man was standing, and
His hand was held down to her.
"You are... you're the one the stream spoke of
- the one who..." Moss didn't know how to
finish. But she stood up. She took His hand, and found
herself in His embrace.
"I have loved you,
child. Sun-On-Moss. You have wandered far in search of
your brother, but you will not find him in here. Without a Path in
the Woods, he is lost, and cannot be found." Her heart felt
like it stopped beating, but He went on. "You will not find him, but I can help
you. Together, we shall find Foxeye. Moss, will you follow
me?"
Moss looked up at him. Slowly, her face
began to tighten, and she pulled back, breaking away from him.
"No... this is a trick. You are from
the Gray Wood, creatures in here can't be trusted. You are... this
is a trick, you mean to do me harm! I won't let you take
me!" She turned before he could say more. Moss
stumbled into the Wood, running away from him.
Something moved in the trees ahead of
her. Foxeye - it had to be him, it had to be Foxeye.
*****
She grabbed him before he could vanish like the
smoke women. And they clutched each other.
Foxeye remember nothing of what had
happened. He had been hunting, and his rope and gotten
cut. And then... he couldn't remember anything else. It had
seemed like no time had passed since then. But he had been gone for
a day after that, and Moss must have been in the Gray Woods searching for many
days, she insisted. But it didn't matter.
They kept hold of each other and began to trace her
rope back out. Moss tried to ignore the fact it would take them too
long to get back. They did not have water, they would
die. But the Wood played by different rules than any land of
Mortals.
It seemed less than an hour, when Foxeye cried out,
and she followed his pointing hand to where the Wood ended.
He began running, her arm jerked and she was dragged
with him. As the left they Gray Wood... Moss saw a flash of gold,
almost like the fur of an animal, darting through the trees.
But she went with her brother, back to her land.
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