It Was Their Forest First

By Michael Teasdale

Had I recognized the emerald droplets for what they were, perhaps I wouldn’t have followed them.

You’d woken me, earlier than usual. Restless, kicking, and hungry for both of us. I’d grazed on a bowl of muesli as I sipped my mint tea, watching the dust bunnies dance in the bright January sunshine that filtered through the shades. The morning sickness was a full trimester behind me, but I still preferred not to take chances.

You seemed to quiet as I washed up, and I decided to take the opportunity to retrieve a little more wood for the fireplace.

Tugging on my warmest clothes, I made my way to the cabin door. Outside, the overnight snow had drawn a ghostly veil over the greenery, blanketing the woodland. I could already hear Bowser barking and frolicking, having the time of his life as he tunneled and weaved through the white, crumbling layers. He bounded up to me as I waded through the drifts, barked once, then zoomed off in the direction of the woodshed, urging me to follow.

“I’m coming, boy.”

I trod carefully, cradling my belly, eyes down and focused, hoping I wasn’t going to find the corpse of another squirrel that our dog had deemed a trespasser.

That’s when I spotted them.

A dozen jade droplets, sparkling by my feet, melting into the tundra and carving out tiny crystal caverns in the ice.

Bowser continued to bark, running around in excited circles while I followed the peculiar stains, a few splashes every yard or so, like paint leaking from a busted can.

Something, a half-formed recollection began to wander through the fog of my memory. A near-forgotten childhood image, warming me with vague nostalgia, yet leaving me strangely nauseous.

I pulled my eyes back to the cabin.

Should I investigate?

Your father wouldn’t be back from town until well after lunchtime. Still, I heard his voice in my head. Think about the baby. Don’t overexert yourself.

Bah! You and I, we were too active for that, weren’t we?

Selecting a sturdy hiking stick, I decided a little exercise would be good for the three of us.

Bowser crashed ahead through the undergrowth, and I picked my way more cautiously, following the elusive emerald trail as best I could, imagining a future where I would lead you on similar ramblings.

We’d picked the cabin for a purpose. To raise you in a place far divorced from the dangers of the city and the distractions of technology. To enjoy your childhood wrapped in a blanket of nature, breathing the pine-scented forest air.

As we sank farther into that nature, my doubts began to grow. What exactly was I following? Evidently something moving. What good did I hope would come from this?

Every few yards there was another smattering, even in the places Bowser’s nose had already disturbed. Again, the uncanny sense of deja-vu assailed me, and, as the loosely defined path broke into a clearing, my memories began to crystalize into something solid and familiar.

As a child, I’d suffered nosebleeds at school. No matter how fast I’d rush to the bathroom, I’d still leave the evidence behind. Crimson droplets staining the linoleum corridor.

But green blood?

A low growl broke my thoughts, and I looked up from the path.

Bowser lay in the clearing, belly low to the ground, his tail wagging slowly, dusting the shape of a solitary angel’s wing into the snow. He was facing away from me, eyes locked on a tree stump at the edge of the clearing.

“What is it, boy?”

Bowser whimpered.

My mind began connecting the dots as I tracked the remaining splashes of green to the tree line.

Was that…

I crunched forward and placed my hand on Bowser’s neck. He flinched and whimpered but did not break his gaze from what lay in front of us.

“It’s okay, boy.”

She lay crumpled in a heap by the tree stump. Her jade skin glistened against the dark moss. Her left hand draped across her swollen belly. Her right hand clutched the puncture in her leg from which her life force still trickled.

So, it wasn’t a squirrel Bowser was chasing…

She was a tiny wisp of a thing. Smaller than a child and unlike anything I had ever set eyes on… yet despite the strangeness of her appearance, the sight of her pregnant belly gave me a sense of sisterhood.

I crept forward then paused, a yard away from her, caught between the urge to reach out and touch or flee from this strange scene, return to the warmth and familiarity of the cabin and never look back. As I took the final steps, placing my shaking hand on her cold skin, the fragility and urgency of the situation began to overcome me. When you chose that moment to deliver a trademark kick, it was like you were sending me a message.

I wrapped my arms around her, gently lifting her into the air. For a second, her eyes fluttered open, and the helplessness that pooled in them melted away any lingering doubts.

With Bowser trailing sheepishly behind us, I carried her, light as a feather, back to the cabin, placed her in the soft straw of the barn, and began rummaging through the first aid kit.

So you see, my girl, you needn’t be afraid of what you saw in the forest this morning.

That old boy sleeping by the fire learned this lesson long ago and knows better than to bite them when they visit.

The one you saw today? It might even be the one I helped patch up in the barn that day. I’ve seen her again from time to time, peeking out through the shrubbery by the old wire fence. Sometimes accompanied by a second, smaller face.

They don’t frighten me, and they shouldn’t frighten you either.

After all, it was their forest first.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Michael Teasdale is an English writer of strange fiction and occasional travel memoir whose stories have previously appeared in the UK publications Novel Magazine, Litro Magazine and the science fiction anthology series Shoreline of Infinity. He has called six different countries home and currently lives in Transylvania, Romania with his partner and their two cats.

---

More Stories