Wolf In The Tree

When Aika walked through the forest trail with her mother, she held her hand as tightly as she could, in order to keep her from running off.

“Th’say there are ghosts in th’woods,” said her mother, who held a sawn off shotgun in the other hand, that was not holding onto Aika’s. “When th’come to take yeh’way, you will go away, forever.” The forests musky and moldy smell filled the air.

Looming darkness gave Aika the cold chills. “Where’o they go mommy?” said Aika, who was struggling to not to look in the other direction. Sprinting deer had caught her attention instead, but she caught herself when her mother tried to talk to her. Who knew the same old routine. “Where’d you say th’go mommy?” But the young mother simply left Aika to figure it out on her own.

“Don’t wander off to find out.” said the mother.

Illuminated branches faded into the distant landscape. So the young mother tried to keep her close at hand. But hen her she aimed her sawn off shotgun at the deer that Aika greeted. Her young daughter stared at her with a down turned smile. “Do we ha’to kill this’n mommy?” said Aika.

A fleeting flower, crying sour. She ran off into the distance. In a split, shots rang out. It was not the the fireballs that killed the fawn. But her mother taking her sawn off shotgun. Walked over to it while it was down, and then smashed it over the head. Whack. Then as she turned around to talk to her young daughter Aika. ... She was not there.

“Aika! Where are you?" said the mother. She then ran quickly with the deer carcass to find her. But no luck, no joy. Only sorrow.

Aika continued to run and run through the forest, until it had been about thirty minutes since she had ran away from her young mother. Cold air within the forest made her begin to smother. So she took a moment to take a breath. Aika was lost, and hugged herself tightly to avoid the near frost that was the looming coldness, as the fog filled the air of the near evening. There was an old and ancient voice, that spoke in human tongue. Raspy, like someone who smokes. Then coughing.

“Who’s there?” said Aika.

“It’s an o’traveler.” said the voice, and Aika could not see where the voice was coming from. But there were two red eyes, that were in the brush between the trees and the dirt floor below. “An o’traveler from th’east.” He hopped in front of Aika. A dire wolf that was as big as two pit bulls. “Now y’shall be m’feast.” Aika did not want to be a feast for the wolf. She ran to the east, careful to avoid the various branches that were in her way. Eventually eventually she was far enough away from the wolf, that she found a flower she wanted to keep.

Then another voice.

Farewell to the bark,
You shall have your lark,
With your axe, a lit spark,
Lonely one in the park,
What is my epitaph?

At first she was not sure where the riddle was coming from. For she had not learned them since before her Summer vacation. Then Aika saw two large pairs of eyes, that did not look like human eyes. Darkness effected her sense of depth perception, produced deception in the night. So at first she thought they were floating.

“Yeh’seem surprised, of a talkin’ tree.” said the tree.

“I ain’t never knew trees could talk.” said Aika.

The tree stared at her with a longing face. And as she stared into the tree, in her mind she had fleeting images. Of many forest shapers, that come to take trees away. “You humans, you are a discrace.” At first Aika thought she was hallucinating, but eventually it became obvious that the tree was walking forward. Running quickly, the large tree was gaining on her. She had to blitz. The wolf -- the old traveler from the east -- tried to attack her again, but the tree hits the dire wolf, who struck against another tree causing it to yelp like a domesticated dog. The tree sang it’s tune:

I have green leaves,
And sometimes grow apples,
When one meets the trunk, with an axe,
I fall in one chunk.
What am I?

Aika arrived from where she came from. The wolf -- the eastern traveler from earlier -- caught up with her, but she did not know this. Until her mother aimed her sawn off shotgun, with a fearful vengeance. Hearing the fire arm, that went click, she heard her mother. “Aika, get ou’of th’way now!” said her mother. Her mother fired the gun without thinking. The bullet accidently hit both the wolf and her daughter Aika.

“Aika!” said the mother, tearfully. “Aika, Aika, Aika!”

Farewell to old times that kept Aika warm from the cold. Farewell to the tree that sing in it’s own epitaph. Farewell to the apples, from the tree of life. Aika becomes a wolf, running through the forest. Running forever and ever with her friends, into the forest of the night. Her paw prints tapping softly forever.

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