Fern sat clutching her legs at the edge of her village, looking across the clearing between her village and the forest.

Her unblinking eyes locked dead with the forest in the far distance. She wasn’t just looking at the trees, she was staring deep into them. Taunting them. Begging them to throw her a challenge worthy of meeting her rage. Drips of water fell beneath her - but the sky was clear and the sun was beaming. Her tears soaked into the earth. Enraged and sniffly, she gripped her axe tighter. Not her axe, she admitted - she’d stolen it from Deryn’s stable. But no one was going to harm her father again, nor her village, not while she could do anything about it. And she sure as hell was going to do something about it.

Gentle gusts of warm wind were her only company. Her father had run off wailing after her grandmother had passed, without consoling Fern. She felt betrayed and abandoned by him. All she wanted was a hug. She saw no reason why she shouldn’t run off too. But she wasn’t going to be useless. She was sick of waiting for his permission. If her village was under threat, her family under threat, she wasn’t going to stand by and do nothing. She was going to act. Even if she had to do it alone.

The western mountains forced a vengeful gust across her land. They ran their hands through the thick leaves of the forest and tugged at her hair, baiting her to act on her impulses. Each wailing gust grew with Fern’s building breaths, the cold air stinging her wild eyes, its howl deafening her. The forest smiled smugly at her, laughing, the northern wind that seeped through its branched teeth carrying the reek of death. A warmer, gentler southern wind desperately beckoned her to turn home, but the western winds were the strongest.

Fern had had enough. She stood, held the axe to her side, and ran across the clearing. She screamed wildly as she raised her axe at the forest’s maw, flailing it and wanting to fell every single tree, and every single one of the forest people. Every. Single. One. The howling western winds encouraged her, boosting her every stride. The northern wind retreated in fear of her rage.

Fern tumbled over as a firm force tackled her from behind. Her axe went flying. “Get off me!” she screamed. She was still pinned on her stomach. She ripped a pile of dirt and flowers from the ground and flung it behind her with a yell, hoping to blind her assailant. As she did, she was let go. She rolled over panting, her fist raised, ready to strike.

She looked around. She’d made it about halfway across the clearing. No one was around her. She was so confused. Was it the wind that knocked her down? It had been so powerful, she thought.

She looked down at the pile of dirt she’d thrown - a faint, pink, powdery cloud surrounded the flowers, shimmering in the sunlight. The wind carried them away with a sweet, floral aroma, leaving a trace of pink on her clothes.

Someone shouted at her from the edge of the village. “Fern!” She raised her head and looked at where it was coming from. It was a pale, brown haired figure that had shouted at her, but they were too far for Fern to make out. “Have you lost you mind child?! Step back from the forest this instant!”

Fern pretended not to hear them. They’d be too scared to chase her, and she didn’t care what they thought. She got up, brushed herself off, and scanned the ground for her axe. Sunlight bounced off its silver blade, revealing its hiding place just under the treeline. In the forest people’s territory, but just barely.

She drew a sharp breath, and took a defiant step towards the forest. “Come back here right now!” the villager yelled, but the western wind howled louder. Fern sniffled, wiped her nose, and kept moving.

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As she entered the forest, the wind and her anger wavered. She noticed purple herbs desperately reaching for the sunlight from the bark of the oak trees, sparking small flames of awe within Fern. But the vast majority of the herbs littered the forest floor, parched and withering. They reeked of death. Fern knew the river’s drying was hurting the forest too, not just her village and their crops. She leant down and ran her olive fingers through the herbs, their leaves crisp and flaking. Her fury melted into dread and despair. These were nothing like what her father had ever collected. Their life force was fully sapped. Her tears provided much needed nourishment to the forest floor.

She cracked the axe free from a nearby tangle of dried roots and herb carcasses. It felt heavier than when she held it before. Dead flowers blew off the handle as the western wind whispered in her ear again.

In an instant, her total fury returned, fuelling a powerful swing of her arm. Multiple, passionate, cathartic swings. Her wrists cracked as she hewed several small trees, her axe carving through them like water. “Down! Down! Down!” she yelled. “Fuck all of you!” Fern then swung her blade deep into a wise, old oak tree, the impact violently reverberating up the sturdy trunk and throughout her small body. The old tree has absorbed her final blow to protect its younger, more vulnerable offspring.

Fern let out multiple grunts. Her hands gripped the axe handle like a vice. She heard the forest shudder. It let out a low, painful groan. The temperature dropped. Fern felt a sharp pain in her heart. Native birds fled the forest canopy in terror.

She looked around at her destructive wake. The tiny herbs growing in the bark of the small trees she’d felled shrivelled and died and were slowly falling to the ground. Some trees were still cracking and wailing, knocking down other small trees in a cascade as they collapsed. She turned to the large tree her axe was lodged in. Red sap bled from its bark, gurgling and choking it. She yanked the axe free, letting out a gush of hot, steaming red liquid all over the dead herbs on the floor and over Fern’s legs. Fern recoiled at the smell. The tree cast a sad, ominous look to her, wondering what it had done to her to deserve such utter pain.

Fern’s heart rate rose as she screamed in terror at what she’d done. She dropped the axe in despair and fled the forest, blinded with tears and covered in sticky, revolting sap. The forest howled, its foul breath pushing her right back across the clearing. She couldn’t stop herself before she crashed right into Eira, and the two went tumbling into the grass. Fern eyes shot around wildly as she completely broke down.

“Fern. Fern!” Eira shook her. “What on earth were you thinking! I saw everything that you did. I was telling you not to go in there!”

Fern struggled to get her words out. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she whimpered. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to hurt it. The wind told me to. I’m sorry!”

Eira was frantic. “Fern! Get yourself together. That was incredibly dangerous!” They struggled to pull Fern up, as she was tensing and writhing uncontrollably, so they gave up. “Fern, darling, listen to me. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. Calm down.” They moved away slightly, but hovered a shaky cold hand above Fern’s shuddering shoulder. Fern let out another desperate wail. And another. Eira started to cry too, terrified at the state Fern was in.

“Fern, please darling.” Eira lowered their hand onto Fern’s shoulder. Fern stopped her body from moving, knowing that Eira was trying to help her. But she couldn’t help but let out more shallow, shattered breaths between sobs. Eira sat with her for another hour as she calmed down. The southern wind grew stronger, covering them both in an all-consuming, all-loving warmth. Fern buried the side of her face in the grass, the blades carrying her tears away. The sun embraced her in a calming light, its warmth soaking into her brain, soothing her.

“Fern, it’s okay. It’s okay”. Eira kept reassuring her. “It’s okay sweetheart.” They brushed her thick red locks aside.

Fern fluttered her teary eyes open. “I’m really sorry Eira,” she whimpered.

“I know darling. It’s okay.” They planted a kiss on her head and cradled her. “I know it’s tough sweetheart. You shouldn’t have to go through any of this. I’m here for you. Your dad is here for you. He’s back now. He’s looking for you.”

The two of them heard the village square’s bell ring in the distance. “That’s him. He’s convening a village meeting to make a search party to find Ako. You should come.”

Fern sniffled, wiped her nose, then nodded. Eira helped her up. Fern clutched to their hand as they made their way towards the village square.