Chapter 7

The sun rose, blanketing the sky with colors of light pink, lavender, and cream, as the dawn stretched over the east. The day was going to be good and hot for a hike, and Elaine worked up a sweat quickly. Renard quickly made her drop her stick, saying, "She looked sillier than a troll dressed with ribbons in its hair," and she became accustomed to pushing away errant bushes. Although the fear persisted that something nasty would fall on her, it became less and less as time went on. As they went deeper into the forest, it became quieter, as if the trees were holding their breath, waiting for something new, and that the insects and small animals sensed the sanctity of an ancient forest. Indeed, some of the trees had been alive for thousands of years, and their silent eyes witnessed the slow changes of the earth. 

When the sun was at its highest point, Elaine and Renard stopped for a rest. They found an odd-looking ring of stones in the middle of the woods. Large, grey boulders formed a circle and within it, a small meadow of wildflowers grew. The grass was especially green here, almost emerald, and when Elaine lay down upon it, it was as soft as a bed. She quickly fell asleep from the exhaustion of walking all morning. 

She awoke to a tugging at her ear. When she opened her eyes, a small creature gazed down upon her. It looked human, although tiny, and it had pointed ears and eyes. It had a radiant countenance, an unearthly beauty that bewitched Elaine.

"Hello," she said. "What are you?"

The creature did not respond in any language that Elaine knew, and instead of speech, it sang; its voice was the clearest, sweetest voice she had ever heard, and the intonation made a natural melody. The creature flitted about on two gossamer wings that shimmered different colors in the sunlight. It tugged at her hand, beckoning her to get up. 

Elaine stood, and the creature kept tugging. She glanced at the still-sleeping Renard, decided that this small creature might need help, and let it lead her away. The singing was so sweet, that Elaine felt that she could trust this tiny creature; the words, although their meaning unknown, wove a spell around her, so that she felt warm and happy just by being near this beautiful being. 

After a few minutes, they came to a cave. Elaine hesitated, but the pixie kept singing, pointing, gently guiding her away from her companion, and into the cave. Elaine crossed the mouth and went inside. The pixie's singing echoed off the cave walls, and the melody took on a haunting tone, as it vibrated and shimmered in the air. 

When the light from the outside grew dimmer and dimmer, Elaine could barely see in the dark. What she could, she saw hundreds of small, glowing blue orbs in the darkness. She tried to peer close but saw nothing. 

Then, the orbs lifted, began to shift, and drew nearer to her. At first, she was seized by fear, but then as the pixie continued to sing, she relaxed, and watched as the blue orbs started to float all around her. 

There were more pixies, their eyes shining in the dark. One landed on her arm, and she held her palm out for it to stand on. The pixie gazed at her, smiled, its teeth sharp and canine, then bent down and inhaled deeply, as if it were smelling Elaine. It opened its mouth and bit Elaine, drawing blood. 

Elaine cried out. Dozens of pixies attacked, biting her, their sharp teeth feeling like needles in her skin. She raced out of the cave and back into the bright sunlight of the forest. 

"Renard!" she yelled. 

But Renard was nowhere to be seen. She ran faster, her blood whooshing loudly in her ears. Elaine tripped over a large tree branch, and the pixies converged, biting and yipping in their strange, singsong language. She managed to grab a large, fallen branch that still had smaller branches attached, full of leaves. She swatted it at the pixies, and they dodged to avoid it. Elaine scrambled to her feet and kept running. 

Stop them, stop them! She commanded herself. Renard's not here, you have to do something!

She stopped, turned around to face them. Time seemed to stop, to flow very slowly by. She could see the pixies, their bright blue eyes crazed with their hunger and desire for human blood. She saw the way their teeth were filed down to jagged points and how their tiny fingers reached to grab her. 

Somehow, in this moment, Elaine pushed her fear and panic to the far side of her mind. She concentrated on what was right in front of her. 

"Stop!" she cried. She felt the tingling, the humming sensation start in her blood and move through her. It began in her stomach, moved through her chest and out her arms.

The pixies froze in the air. They hung, paralyzed, unable to move, although some still gnashed their teeth. 

Elaine ran back to the firepit and Renard. She arrived breathless, bent over, taking huge swallows of air. Renard looked at her bloodied face and arms, covered in tiny bites and cuts. 

"Where were you?" he demanded. 

"Tiny fairies," Elaine panted. "Tiny, fairies out for blood. They led me to a cave and attacked."

Renard gave her another bite on the ankle. "I told you that I could protect you if you stayed close. Where are they now?"

Elaine pointed west. "I was able to stop them. I don't know how I did, but I used magic. They're frozen in the air."

Renard looked at her with a mixture of exasperation and admiration. 

"There may be hope for you yet. But come on. We don't know how long your magic will hold them, weak as it is still. Let's go!"

And they ran deeper into the forest.

*

The morning after the pixie attack, Elaine heard someone approaching. Renard was off hunting, and she was alone. Her heart picked up, but she was not seized by panic. She simply began to steel herself for whatever might be coming her way. 

A girl with honey blond hair and blue eyes entered into her view. Elaine relaxed. The girl was wearing a bright scarlet cloak, with a deep hood. 

"Good morning," she called out. 

The girl looked up from walking. "Good morning," she replied. She held a basket full of bread. "Would you like some of my bread? I'm bringing most of it to my grandmother, but I can spare a bit."

"Thank you," said Elaine. She reached into the basket and took a dark loaf, studded with raisins and seeds. Seeing the bread, she suddenly longed for home. When she took a bite, she was instantly reminded of the smell of her mother, her father's strong arms, her little brother's annoying antics. "Why are you so deep in the woods?" she asked. 

The little girl replied, "I could ask you the same. I always bring my grandmother a basket of bread every week. I never see anyone else on the path."

Elaine swallowed. "I'm going to meet someone who can help train me in magic," she said. She didn't say why or who. 

"And are you alone?"

"No, I have a talking fox to guide me." Elaine kept nibbling the bread. 

"And you trust him?" said the girl, pushing her hair out of her face. "I met a talking wolf once. He was not who I thought he was."

Elaine paused. "Yes. Renard is so nice. He has helped me so much."

"Nice is different than good," said the little girl simply. With that, she turned back into the woods, and slowly her footsteps grew more distant. 

*

The days were long in the forest; each morning they arose at sunrise to walk until noon. They would stop for a meal, wash quickly and go on their way. But every so often, Elaine would take her knife and pull two strips of bark from a tree, making an "X." Renard stared at her in puzzlement.  

"What are you doing?" he asked. 

Elaine looked slightly guilty. She sheaved her knife. "I'm just...marking that I've been here. This is the first time I've ventured outside my village, and I want to give this forest a reminder of why I'm here."

Renard squinted his eyes at her. "Hmmmm," he murmured.

One night, after a filling meal of roasted squirrel, courtesy of Renard and tubers she had managed to dig up that day, Elaine lay on the ground, looking up at the stars. She still felt as though something were going to come crawling across her face at any moment, but it was easier to ignore these thoughts. The forest did not seem so frightening now, and Renard was a good travelling companion. He told her stories around the crackling fire, tales of silly young boys climbing huge beanstalks that reached the sky, princesses who danced all night and snuck back into their castle, and of a place where the sky touched the earth. 

Elaine curled up and went to sleep. 

The next morning, Elaine was by the river washing her clothes. She would scrub, then throw the wet clothes over a tree branch to dry. She hummed songs to herself songs from her village, the ones everyone knew by heart. As she walked from river to branch, she did not notice the vines sneaking through the grass, seeking out something living to drag away to consume. When Elaine paused by the river, the vines slowly wound around her ankles. 

Suddenly, the vines pulled tight. They pulled Elaine to the ground, and began to wrap around her and squeeze tight. She began to yell and thrash, but the vines only pulled more tightly. Her screams alerted Renard, and he came running from the forest. 

"Elaine," he said, sitting down, becoming very still. "Don't move."

She yelled and thrashed harder. Yet with each kick and yank, the vines only held on tighter to her, only circled around her more fiercely. 

"Elaine!" he hissed. "This is the first rule of fear: do not panic. Stop moving."

"What are you talking about? What are these things?" Elaine struggled fiercely against the large, green vines. Her wrists were chaffed with the effort of pulling and struggling. 

"They're Serpent Claws, vines that only want living things. If you stop struggling, they will think that you're dead. They'll go away."

Elaine continued to struggle for a minute, then forced herself to remain motionless. Her body was tense, and she felt sure that she would be dragged away, squeezed until she could no longer breathe. But as she quieted, the plants relaxed as well. They were not interested in prey that was not already alive. As she was still, the vines slowly released their hold on her. They untwisted from her wrists, arms, legs, and sluggishly slithered away. 

As they crept back into the forest, Elaine released her breath that she had been holding. She looked to Renard, who was already curling up, near the fire ready for a nap again. He yawned.

"Remember, the first, and most important law of fear is not to panic. Panic only sharpens fear, makes it hungrier to devour you. Find a quiet place deep in yourself. If you panic, you will make the situation worse. Now, let's take a nap. While we sleep, they'll find some other poor animal to devour. When we wake, we will make camp a few miles downriver."

Although Elaine's muscles were still taut from tension, she slowly unwound and let sleep overtake her.