The clock of the 19th century had finally run out of time. Throughout the entire Empire, it was chiming with the sound of fireworks, songs, games and reverie. The German people’s celebration was reverberating throughout the cities, spilling over into the countryside and finally reaching, still quite clamorous, the parts of the forest that were yet untouched by civilization.
Years later, people would still debate if the noise was one of the causes for the events that transpired that year.
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3rd of January, 1900
Someone opened his eyes. It felt like the first time. Yet, it also felt like waking up. Small circles in the shape of eyes, brimming with greenish light, were now looking around.
‘It’s winter.’
It was probably the thick layer of snow covering just about everything that tipped him off to that notion.
The creature wasn’t much taller than a child and was clad in a mantle of snowy moss. He was one of the aptly (yet quite unoriginally) named Moosleute. As he stood from under the shade of a pine, he shook and jumped vigorously, getting the snow off his body before stretching out his limbs. It sounded like the cracking of branches and a soft clatter of stones.
‘It must’ve been a long nap. A walk is definitely in order.’
He began to wander towards the east as the chilling sun of January began to climb above the forest’s peaks. The birches stood so tall he could barely see the end of them. They looked quite gaunt without their leaves, dead even.
However, as his tiny hands clad in moss gloves laid upon one of them, he could feel the lymph still hadn’t left this beautiful tree. He could feel the one next to it and the next one too for meters and meters. The evergreens and the creatures nestling inside them and…
Before he could pull away from it, he felt something else.
Something painful.
It wasn’t close and yet he could feel it. It was both a sound and a tactile sensation. He couldn’t make it out, groggy as he still was. He kept on walking. Maybe it would clear his mind.
He picked a small handful of berries from a bush on his way. Just a couple. He left the rest for the small animals of the forest. Winter is a challenging time, after all. Everyone could use some kindness during its duration, what with its unrelenting cold and the seemingly unending nights.
As soon as he finished that thought, he heard steps behind his back. Graceful ones. For a moment, he was certain a fox had approached the bush. Instead, a beautiful, agile woman smiled to him. Her skin was as the pale bark of birch and patches of it were covered in green-blueish lichens. The foliage on her head, yellowish and not as lush as it would’ve been in spring, mixed with the mantle of leaves and moss hanging from her shoulders. It was different from his, however. There were little pockets all over it from which all sorts of medicinal herbs were poking out.
“A beautiful morning to you, Holzfräulein!” he exclaimed, his voice coming out jolly and shrill.
“And a pleasant one to you, Mooskind” her volume quite lower and gentle “Are you, perhaps, headed east?”
He nodded and a smile was drawn on his round face as he looked upwards. The creature stood at more than double his height.
“Then, would you mind a companion during your voyage?”
He heartily shook his head, making his long, pointed ears wiggle. “Not at all! Are you hungry?” ready to immediately part with half of his lunch. After all, the so-called ladies of wood had always been among the tenderest Waldleute and their beauty closely contended with their kindness.
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She squatted down, graciously accepting the moss creature’s generous gift as a warm smile lit up her pale expression. To find such a sweet creature to travel with barely half an hour from her awakening. The hands of fate had been gentle.
The two continued their journey towards east. They did not speak for quite a while as they were both taking in the forest through their ears, noses and eyes. It felt like centuries had passed since they had done this.
The silence was broken once the uncertain voice of the boy of moss asked “What is your name… if I may ask?” as he looked up to the lady of birch.
“You may.”
Awkward silence followed for some seconds.
“Oh!” the realization took some time “What is your name then?”
She let out a soft chuckle after his little pause of reflection “Bianka. What is yours?”
“Marwig!” he exclaimed proudly.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Marwig” she softly smiled.
“If I may-”
“You may.”
“Did you, by any chance, feel something… strange when touching the trees?”
“It is reassuring to know I was not sick as I feared nor imagining things. I did feel that something is amiss. Something queer is happening to the forest. It is my hope that I’ll be able to help…” firm yet calm determination enshrouded her voice “…with your aid, if I may be so bold?”
“You can count on that! I’ll be bold for the two of us!” the volume of his voice bringing a small avalanche down on his head from a spruce’s branch. The lady of wood giggled softly and brushed it off of him.
The Sun left the sky in haste as the stars took over.
A sliver of Moon rose in the sky and in the forest a chilling, dense fog engulfed the wanderers and their path. In silent agreement, they both halted. Quickly, they found a withdrawn spot where they could rest for the night, nearby a solitary lake.
The lady of birch whispered kind words to the trees surrounding the place where they would settle. They were so kind to offer shelter and inform her that the frozen body of water was home to a spirit of great heart and even greater power. Concealed by their gentle, silent words, that pain was ever present, hidden under the bark.
“Certainly, we will be safe here” she whispered reassuringly to the boy made of moss. He forced a smile and a nod before curling up in his mantle, making himself as similar to a rock as he could manage.
She understood that words would not make him feel safer and so she did not speak more. For everyone who knows what lurks in the fog of the forest, knows that tempting fate with misplaced optimism is not wise. Not even the weiße Frau who called the lake home could stop him and not even the wisest of the ladies of wood could heal you from his deathly touch.
The lady of birch laid down by his companion, holding a knife made of stone and wood under her mantle. It did not make her any safer…but it made her feel like she was for some time. Just enough time to fall asleep.
He passed them by on that night and dissipated with the fog the day after.
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It was early in the morning when the duo had started treading eastward once again, leaving the lake behind but following one of its slithering rivers.
The night had been filled with worries but sunlight was now inundating the snow-covered landscape with blinding white light, wiping them away. At least, that was the case for Bianka.
Marwig, however, looked somewhat different than the day prior. She noticed he would keep his eyes planted on the path, a worried expression on his face. In more than an occasion, he had looked back briefly on the path they had tread on and was walking a few steps behind her. Nothing like the beaming moss boy that had bravely marched in the front, his eyes firmly looking forward.
“Is something the matt-” she stopped as the moss boy brought a finger in front of his lips. He stealthily pointed behind himself.
She stopped by a bush, taking the hint “You are right, we did not have a proper breakfast yet!” she exclaimed a bit louder than usual, squatting down.
Marwig approached the bush as well, getting quite in there while foraging. His hands clutched around a rock and a fallen branch. Bianka’s eyes scouted the path behind them. She brought her hand to the wooden grip of her knife, concealed in her mantle.
The sets of footprints all stopped by this very bush.
There was three of them.