The Forest of the Others

(Image from Pixabay)

ONE

“Grace!”

The shout, as sharp as a slap, jolted Grace back to her senses. Blinking rapidly, she half-turned away from the forest before flinching as Janet’s bony fingers bit into her upper arm.

“Mama, what–?”

“Come away. You know not to go close to that place.”

“But I saw–”

“No!” Her pale blue eyes wide with ill-disguised fright, Janet dragged Grace with her as she started to run. “Not you. I won’t let them have you. You’re all that’s left to me.”

“Stop. Mama, please stop…”

But Janet only slowed down when they were back on the path. “Why did you go so close to the forest? Were you tempting fate?”

“No, I wasn’t. But they only take young ones, remember.”

“I don’t care. I won’t take any chances.”

Grace lowered her gaze, not knowing what to say.

“Pull your hood up, cover your head,” said Janet as she wrapped her own cloak tight around her. “With all this damp in the air, I don’t want you to catch a chill.”

“I’m not a child.” But Grace did as she was told as they continued their journey home.

“Why did you stray from the path?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

Janet kept looking around as if she expected some horror to leap out at them. “Come, walk quickly. I want to be back before it gets dark.”

Glancing up at the scudding clouds, Grace frowned. “There’s still time, it’s nowhere near sunset.” She reached out and took her mother by the hand. “Mama, it’s alright.”

But Janet didn’t return her smile. “I hate that place. It’s always so dark, even in summer. I hate having to walk past it every time we return from Greenlee.”

Grace opened her mouth but didn’t speak; she couldn’t think of anything to say to calm her mother’s fears. She quickened her pace as her mother was walking so fast, she was almost running. Grace looked back at the treeline. I know what I saw, she thought. She hadn’t ventured close on a whim for she’d caught sight of someone she never thought she would see again. I saw you, Papa. I know I did.

It had been three years since Grace had last seen her father; three years since he had left to look for her beloved younger brother, Conor. Sweet, funny Conor, he’d been taken by the dreaded Others soon after his eighth birthday, and Grace had cried for more days than she could remember. Unable to bear his loss, she’d refused to eat, was too scared to sleep, and had fallen ill. Janet had put aside her own grief to care for the one child she had left but had become little more than a walking ghost. Her father had retreated into himself, and when Grace had recovered her health, he’d entered the forest, determined to find his son. And he, too, was lost.

After she’d finished her chores, Grace went to the house of her best friend, two houses away. Kate had been born a week after Grace and the girls had grown up as close as sisters, maybe even closer; they called each other ‘first friends’. Kate still had her siblings, an older brother and a younger sister.

The girls sat on Kate’s bed, facing the window set in the wall. Her back to Kate, Grace looked through half-closed eyes at the darkening clouds framed in the window, enjoying the soothing feeling of having her hair brushed by Kate.

“I know I say it all the time,” said Kate, “but I wish my hair was like yours.”

“And I never understand why you say that. Your hair is beautiful, like marigolds in a sunny field.”

“But yours is so thick and soft; I don’t know anyone here with hair like yours. And I swear sometimes it changes colour.”

Grace laughed. “Oh, Kate. No one’s hair changes colour.”

“Well, you can’t see it but, trust me, sometimes when the light is on it a certain way, your hair isn’t just black, sometimes it looks like its blue or purple.”

“I’ll take your word for it then.”

They lapsed into silence as Kate parted Grace’s hair and started braiding it. After a while, she said, “Did something happen today?”

Grace started slightly. “Why do you say that?”

“You’ve hardly spoken. That usually means you’re thinking of something.”

“I-I was enjoying having my hair brushed. Besides, we were just talking, weren’t we?”

“You’re still being very quiet.”

Grace stared at the wall as thoughts of her father filled her mind. She was desperate to tell someone what she’d seen. Pinching her bottom lip, she wondered if she could trust Kate to keep her secret. But if she couldn’t trust her first and best friend, who could she trust?

Even though she took a deep breath before she spoke, still her voice trembled. “You’re right. Something did happen.”

Kate didn’t respond, but Grace could feel her hand movements slowing.

“When Mama and I were coming home from Greenlee, I went close to the forest–”

Kate’s gasp interrupted her.

Grace turned to look at her wide-eyed friend. “I didn’t mean to… I saw him, Kate,” she finished in a strangled whisper.

“Saw… him?”

“Papa.”

“What?”

“Shh.”

Kate’s brows drew closer together. “Are you sure?”

Grace nodded. “But I don’t know if he saw me.” Leaning forward, she trapped her friend’s hands in hers. “Promise you won’t tell anyone.”

“Why–”

“Promise, Kate, please. Mama can’t know. I worry for her as it is.”

Obviously torn between what her friend wanted and her own need to tell, it took a few moments before Kate spoke. “I promise. But what will you do?”

She looked Kate in the eye. “I’ve thought about it. I’m going to look for him, try to bring him home.”

“Grace, no.” Kate leapt to her feet.

“Shh.” Grace grabbed her by the hand and pulled her back down. “Stop shouting. Your parents will hear.”

“Please don’t do this. You can’t go into the forest. What if they take you? What about your mother?”

Closing her eyes, she shook her head slightly. “But they only take young ones.” Even though she spoke the words firmly, Grace couldn’t ignore the chill around her heart. There was no guarantee the Others wouldn’t take her as punishment for entering their forest. What, then, would happen to Janet? Would she find the strength to carry on with life? Grace wanted to look after her mother, but she also wanted to find her father. If she was successful in bringing him home, surely her mother would be well again with her father here to look after them. Maybe life might be normal again.

“I have to do this, Kate, as much for Mama’s sake as anything else. I know I’m asking a lot, but I need you to promise to keep my secret.”

Concern rippling across her face, Kate stared at Grace but said nothing.

“Kate, please. If anyone finds out, they’ll stop me. Then I’ll never know.”

“Oh, Grace.”

“Please.” She clasped her hands tightly before her.

Kate’s shoulders sagged. “I promise. But you must promise to be so very careful. And…” Clearly uncomfortable, she glanced at her door, which was slightly ajar. “Put a handful of oatmeal in your pocket,” she whispered. “And sprinkle some on your clothes.”

“Oatmeal?”

“It will afford you some protection. Against them.”

“How do you know that?”

“My ma… she learnt it from… someone.”

It was obvious Kate knew more than she was letting on, but Grace decided not to pester her for an explanation, too relieved her friend had agreed to keep her secret.

TWO

Panting to catch her breath, Grace stopped at the treeline, the ground under her feet soft and springy. The earthy smell around her evoked thoughts of her mother’s small garden. No breeze disturbed the leaves, and she heard no sound except her own pounding heart.

Staring past the trees, she took a handful of oatmeal from her apron pocket and sprinkled it over her head, on her clothes. Impatience threatened to cloud her judgment as she contemplated stepping into the forest. This was the fourth time she’d managed to get away for long enough on her own. And the fourth time she’d stared into the forest, which, yet again, yielded no sign of her father.

Grace took a step forward then stopped, holding her clenched fists tight against her legs as if to hold herself in check. “Oh, Papa, did I imagine it? Was it only a shadow that I wanted to be you?” Her throat tightened and she blinked rapidly to keep her tears at bay. On the verge of admitting defeat, she started to turn. And stopped, her attention caught by movement amongst the trees. Clasping her hands together, silently praying that it was her father, she edged closer to the tree line.

The figure stepped between the trees and paused in a rare shaft of sunlight, head tilted back as if to drink in the warmth.

Grace’s breath caught at the sight of the dear profile, the dark hair curling against the collar, the familiar gesture of hand rubbing whiskered chin… Tears smudged her sight. Impatiently drawing her hand across her eyes, she ran into the forest, all else forgotten save her father. “Papa! Papa.”

The man swung around and stepped back, raising his hands as if to ward her off. As Grace was about to throw her arms around him, he grabbed her by the arms and held her back.

“Papa,” she said, smiling through her tears.

His head jerked back. “Why do you call me that? Who are you?”

Grace’s movements stilled, her mouth fell open, her eyes bulged as she struggled to take in his words. “Papa? Don’t you know me? It’s Grace.”

Shaking his head, he continued to hold her away from him.

“Don’t you know your Grace?” Tears started to run down her face to fall in the space between them. “You carried me on your shoulders, you showed me how to catch the fish in the stream… I made flower garlands for your hair. You called me…” She covered her face, unable to bear the pain of being forgotten by her father. “You called me… your…”

“Blossom?” His voice was so soft, she almost didn’t hear him.

Grace’s heart leapt and she looked up at him. “Yes. That’s what you called me.”

His breath ragged, he shook as he said, louder this time, “Blossom. Your daisy chains were my crown–”

“Yes. Yes,” said Grace with a laugh. “You remember. You remember me.”

He stared, his grey eyes seeming to pierce right through her. Then he pulled her close, held her tight.

Crumpling his tunic in her fists, she sobbed against his chest.

When she finally allowed him to step back, he rested his hands on her shoulders. “My little blossom. Look at you. You’ve grown…older?” As his voice faded, his gaze lost focus. “You’re no longer twelve?”

An inexplicable chill wrapped her in an uneasy embrace. “No. I’m fifteen now.”

He paled. “What? Three years? I’ve been here for three years? It cannot–Janet. Your mother, is she–”

“She’s at home, Papa, she’s alright.” There was one question she had to ask. “Did you find Conor?”

His frown deepening, he looked around. “I remember, when I first came into the forest, I called him. I called and called but there was no answer, no sound.” As he spoke, his voice got stronger, his tone surer. “Then they came. They took me to their queen. She said those taken would never be found for we’d never recognise them again.”

Grace shuddered as a finger of ice crept up her spine. “You didn’t see him?”

“I looked, Grace, still I kept looking. But I saw none who were familiar to me.”

She bit her lip in a vain attempt to stop her tears. “Why didn’t you come home?”

“I wanted to. She wouldn’t let me. No one had ever entered the forest like I had.” Clenching his jaw, he shut his eyes. “She said she would keep me. For amusement.”

“Oh… Papa.” She hugged him. “But you can come home now. With me.”

“Ah, my girl. It’s not so simple. I’m trapped here.”

“I’m not leaving without you. Oh. Wait.” She dug a handful of oatmeal from her pocket and threw it at him.

“What are you–what is this? It stings.” He brushed it off.

“Oatmeal,” she said, her mouth turned down. “It’s supposed to protect…”

“Oh, my blossom.”

“After all this time, to see you again. I won’t believe that you’ll never be able to come home. You belong with us.”

He smiled, a small, sad smile. “I wish I could see your mother. Tell her… tell her…” He shook his head. “Never mind. Now, my beautiful blossom, you must go home.”

“No.”

He placed a finger against her mouth. “You must. You don’t belong here. And I will not chance you being trapped here like me.” Cupping her face in his hands, he smiled. “I want you to live your life free. Get married, have beautiful children. Look after your mother.”

Her hands against his, she tried to shake her head as tears fell down her cheeks.

“Hush. Say you will. Then I will have that to comfort me through my days here.”

“Papa…” By now she was sobbing.

“Promise me, Grace. That is all I ask.”

Finally, she nodded, and they embraced one last time.

THREE

“Grace, what’s wrong? Are you unwell?”

She shook her head as her mother reached over to touch her forehead.

“I’ve almost finished, but you’ve barely eaten.”

“It’s nothing.”

Janet raised her brows. Placing her hand under Grace’s chin, she tilted her daughter’s head up. “And you’ve been crying again. No, don’t say you haven’t. Something’s been bothering you for a few days now.” She smiled slightly. “It surprises you that I noticed? I’m your mother, remember.”

“Oh,” was all Grace could think to say. Still, she shook her head.

Janet sat back, arms crossed against her chest. “We’re not leaving the table until you tell me. I don’t like seeing you upset.” When she remained silent, Janet said, “Don’t you trust me anymore?”

“Of course I do. But I…” Shaking her head as tears filled her eyes again, Grace pushed against her chair, but Janet grabbed her hand. “I saw Papa.” Grace clamped her free hand over her mouth, eyes wide. It was as if the words had leapt from her of their own volition.

Janet stared, unmoving.

Grace covered her mother’s hand with hers. “I wanted to tell you. I didn’t know how.” When Janet remained silent, she said, “Mama, say something.”

“Where?”

Swallowing hard, she said, “In the forest.” She winced as her mother’s grip on her hand tightened. “That day we were coming home from Greenlee and you scolded me for going too close to the forest. It was because I’d seen him.”

Janet started shaking her head. “No. No, it can’t be. Not now, not after three years. No–”

“That’s where I’ve been going, to try and see him again.”

“I told you. Never go there.” Her eyes stretched wide, shining as if she was in the grip of a fever.

“I saw him, Mama. I spoke to him, touched him–”

“No!” Janet wailed as she leapt up, her chair clattering to the floor. Turning away, she pressed her hands against her ears. “No, it cannot be. I don’t believe it. I won’t.”

Grace could only stare, dumbfounded. Slowly getting to her feet, she edged towards her mother. “Don’t you believe me? Why would I tell such a hateful lie?”

Janet continued to shake her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “If it’s true, if you saw him, if you saw my Thomas, why isn’t he here? Why has he stayed away for three years?” She fell to her knees as if no longer able to support her grief.

It dawned on Grace why her mother was so upset. Janet thought her husband had chosen to stay away. She quickly knelt in front of her mother. “He hasn’t come home because he can’t. He’s trapped, Mama. The queen of the Others, she’s keeping him.” She stopped abruptly, not wanting to say why.

Janet raised her pain-filled gaze. “Why? Why does she want him? He’s my husband.” Her shoulders shook as she wept some more.

Feeling wretchedly helpless, Grace put her arms around her mother.

When Janet’s weeping subsided, Grace helped her back to her chair. Sitting by her feet, she rested her head on her mother’s lap.

“I always thought not knowing was the worst thing, yet I hoped,” said Janet softly, her hand resting on her daughter’s hair. “But now I know he will never, ever come home.”

Grace’s heart ached for she’d never realised that Janet had been nursing a secret hope that Thomas might, one day, come home.

Silent moments stole by.

“Tell me,” said Janet softly. “Tell me when you saw him.”

Closing her eyes, Grace recounted her meeting with her father. In her mind’s eye, she could see him clearly and wished she could, somehow, show her mother what she’d seen.

“Conor… he is lost to us then.” Janet’s face crumpled and she hid her face in her hands.

“Oh, Mama…” Grace didn’t know what to say to comfort her mother. She wanted to tell her that she was going to find a way to bring Thomas home. But, afraid of Janet’s reaction, she said nothing as she helped her mother to bed.

FOUR

“I have to do something, Kate. I have to try.” Grace pressed her palms against her red-rimmed eyes as a barrier against her never-ending tears. She and her best friend were sat on the step outside Janet’s house.

Her arm around Grace, Kate didn’t argue with her.

“You’re not going to tell me I shouldn’t?”

Kate shook her head. “How can I? I can’t begin to imagine how hard this has been for you. For your ma. I know others have lost in the past, but your family is the only one who has lost a father and husband too. If there’s a chance your pa could return, who am I to say you mustn’t try?”

Grace blinked back tears as she embraced her friend. “But where do I start? I have to find a way to free Papa, but I don’t know how. All I know is now I may lose my mama too.”

Since Janet’s realisation that Thomas was lost to her forever, the light had gradually faded from her eyes and she now seemed little more than a pale copy of the woman she’d been.

“No, Grace, don’t say that.”

Both girls turned to look at the plump woman in the doorway.

“Your mother loves you and that love will help her through this.”

“But, Mother Sarah, she’s hardly spoken to me since–”

“Give her time, my dear.”

Sarah was Kate’s mother and Janet’s best friend.

“Ma…” Kate got to her feet. “Tell her.”

Sarah angled her body away. “Kate, we’ve been through this already.”

“She should choose for herself. We don’t have the right–”

“She’s a child.”

“He’s her father.”

“Enough.” Rubbing her furrowed brow, Sarah turned to go back into the house.

“What are you not telling me?” Grace stepped forward, almost blocking her. “You know how I can help my father?”

Sarah turned her back on both girls.

“If you don’t tell her, I will,” said Kate.

Lifting her gaze heavenward, Sarah’s breath came out in a long, drawn-out sigh. Slowly she turned to face Grace. “I don’t know how but… there’s a woman. She may know.”

Grace gasped. Darting forward, she grabbed Sarah. “Who is she? Tell me how to find her, please, Mother Sarah.”

Sarah stared at her as if searching for an answer to an unasked question. Finally, she closed her eyes and said, “She doesn’t live near. I will take you to her.”

With a sob, Grace embraced her. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Now, don’t get hopeful. She may not be able to help you.”

“But she might, Mother Sarah, she might.”

Grace stifled a yawn as she walked alongside Sarah. They had set out just before sunrise, leaving Kate to watch over Janet. With their hoods up, covering their heads, both held their cloaks tightly around them in an effort to fend off the early morning autumn chill. Little puffs of mist preceded them as their warm breath met the cool air.

Grace took in their surroundings for she’d never travelled this way. She’d realised, some time ago, that they were skirting the forest, keeping it to their left but staying a good distance from it. Grace found her attention being constantly drawn to the forest. She couldn’t help but wonder if her father was near.

“Grace, keep up with me, try not to fall behind.”

She hurried to Sarah’s side, mumbling an apology.

“The sooner we get there, the sooner we can return,” said the older woman, her pace so brisk, the leaves on the path spun out of her way.

“Thank you for doing this, Mother Sarah.”

Sarah glanced at her with a tight smile. “Truth be told, a part of me doesn’t want to do this, but, if I were in your place, I’d want to do all I could. And I cannot bear to see your mother in such a wretched state. If I’d lost my Edward…” She shook her head, as if unable to entertain the thought. “Come, we’re almost there.”

Grace’s initial reaction was one of relief for it felt like they’d been walking for hours. She looked up at the sun, leaning back slightly to get a clearer view past the trees. From its position in the sky, she guessed about three hours had passed since they’d left home. Hurrying to catch up with Sarah, she realised they’d left the path and were walking towards the shadowed trees where the sun failed to penetrate. Pulling her cloak closer about her, Grace had to force herself to keep close to Sarah when all she wanted was to run home and hide.

It took Grace some moments to realise they were approaching a small house on the outskirts of the forest.

Just before they got to the door, Sarah stopped and took Grace by the hand. “Try not to be afraid. This woman is… different. Her manners aren’t what we’re used to.” Then she turned and knocked on the door.

FIVE

The door opened.

If Sarah hadn’t still been holding Grace’s hand, the girl would have fled.

The woman who stood in the doorway – and Grace only knew she was a woman because Sarah had said so – was tall and, from what Grace could see, she was thin, painfully thin.

“I know you,” said the woman to Sarah in a surprisingly deep voice. “But I do not know you.” She turned her gaze to Grace who was trying hard not to stare and failing.

The woman had the longest fingers Grace had ever seen. She wore a plain, moss-green tunic that started at her neck and fell in a straight line down to the floor, leaving her stick-like arms bare. Her head was covered with the hood of the tunic. But what commanded Grace’s attention was her eye. She couldn’t see the left one for a patch of cloth covered it, but her other eye seemed to glow with an inner fire, reminding Grace of a smouldering piece of coal.

“See how good you look when you’re as old as me,” said the woman. “If you ever get to be as old as me.”

Feeling unexpectedly hot, Grace looked at Sarah, not sure what to say, but the older woman smiled and nodded as she gave the girl’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

The woman turned and disappeared into her house. Sarah stepped in, pulling Grace after her.

Stumbling slightly as she crossed the threshold, Grace could feel the hairs on her arms rising. The interior was gloomy, the only light coming from the fireplace and the lamp on the table. She knew the house was small, yet it gave the impression of being bigger on the inside; she struggled to make out the walls.

“So, who are you? What do you want? You lot only come to me when you want something.” She stood on the far side of the table, facing them.

“My-my name is Grace… mistress.”

The woman barked a harsh laugh. “Mistress? I’m no one’s mistress.”

Grace shifted from one foot to the other, not knowing how to react.

“Well? What do you want?”

Sarah, still holding Grace’s hand, shook it slightly.

“My father. I want to free my father. He’s trapped in the forest–”

“The one she holds captive?” That had captured the woman’s attention. Placing her hands flat on the table, she leaned forward. “So, he’s your father, is he?” She nodded slowly, her one eye seeming to pierce right through Grace. After a long silence, she straightened up and folded her arms across her flat chest. “Why do you think I can help?”

“You helped me before and you are the only one I could think of,” said Sarah. “If it was up to me, I wouldn’t allow her to do this, but she has set her heart on it, and I want her to have as much help as she can.”

Grace wondered what kind of help Sarah had wanted and what the woman had done, but she kept her mouth shut.

The woman half-turned towards the fire before she said, “Maybe… maybe.” Then she turned to Grace. “What will you give in return? Everything requires payment.”

Fumbling, Grace parted her cloak and fished out a chain and pendant from her apron pocket, a gift from her parents when she’d turned twelve. She took a hesitant step forward and held it out.

The woman snorted. “What do I need with trinkets? I want that which is precious to you.”

“But, Mistress–”

“Stop calling me that.”

“I’m sorry, Mi–” Grace caught herself and stopped, her hand against her mouth.

“Your kind. Always with the names. Ciara.”

Grace stared, blinking slowly.

With an impatient huff, the woman said, “Call me Ciara.”

“Oh… Mis-I mean, Ciara.” Grace held up the pendant again. “This is precious to me.”

“No.” Ciara skirted the table and came closer, peering hard at the young girl. “You have something that means more, and I want it.” She pushed her hood back, revealing scraggly tufts of hair clinging to her withered scalp.

Grace cringed.

Ciara leaned close, so close their cheeks were almost touching. Reaching behind Grace, she pulled the girl’s thick, braided hair towards her, rubbing the end against her face, eye closed in rapture. It was all Grace could do to stand her ground and not recoil.

“I want this.”

“My hair? But–”

“This is more precious to you than your father?” she said as she straightened.

“No. Of course not.” She loved her father, but she also loved her hair. Then she realised her foolishness. She only had the one precious father. Swallowing hard, she said, “Take it.”

Reaching back, Ciara took an elegant blade from the table and, with a few deft strokes, parted Grace from her braid. Then, crooning to herself, she wrapped it around her neck.

Grace blinked rapidly to stop her tears. Fingering the cut edges of her hair, touching the exposed back of her neck, she glanced at Sarah.

The woman had her hands clasped against her chest, concern crumpling her face as she whispered, “Brave girl.”

Grace looked away, not feeling brave at all.

Telling Grace to sit opposite her at the table, Ciara moved the patch of cloth from her left eye to cover her right. This time, Grace couldn’t stop herself pulling back. Where Ciara’s eyeball should have been, there was only milky-white skin marred by a puckered line running across it. The woman reached over and grabbed Grace’s hands, holding them tight, her unseeing eye fixed on the girl.

Silence flowed from Ciara to fill every inch of the room. For the first time in her young life, Grace felt like silence was a living thing, pushing against her, smothering her as she struggled to breathe.

Finally, the woman began to nod, mumbling to herself. “Yes, yes… dangerous, must be strong… yes…” Releasing Grace’s hands, she slowly sat back, exhaling loudly. With trembling hands, she moved the cloth to re-cover her left eye. Her head nodded against her chest.

Grace rubbed her hands as if she were washing them. Frowning, she wondered if Ciara had fallen asleep. She looked at Sarah who motioned her to wait.

“It is possible to free your father.”

Ciara’s sudden words startled Grace.

A smile spread across her face. “But it will not be easy. You must be brave. Strong. Sure of heart. One slight falter, one small doubt and you will both be lost forever.” She stared at Grace. “Can you do it?”

Grace had to swallow a couple of times, her throat as dry as drought-hit land. “Yes. I must.”

SIX

Walking away from Ciara’s house, Grace was surprised to see that it was barely midday. She was sure they’d spent hours with the strange woman. The small, cloth-covered cage Ciara had given Grace bounced lightly against her leg as she walked. Unable to stop touching her short hair, wondering what she looked like, she hoped her mother wouldn’t be too upset. Maybe if I cover my head with a scarf, Mama won’t notice, she thought. Without warning, she started to cry and quickly covered her mouth, trying to stifle the sound.

But Sarah stopped and turned. “Oh, my dear girl.” She embraced her. “If I had known that she would treat you like she did–”

“My hair…”

“Yes, your beautiful hair. I had no idea that would be her price. But you are very brave, your parents would both be so proud of you. And your hair will grow again.”

“It will?”

Sarah laughed softly. “Of course, it will, why wouldn’t it?” Sarah stepped back as Grace shrugged. Lifting the edge of her cloak, she wiped the girl’s tears.

As they continued on their way, Grace said, “Mother Sarah?”

“Yes, child.”

“Who is she?”

“Ciara? I’m not sure, I don’t think anyone knows for sure.”

“How do you know of her?”

“From other people.”

“She looks… so different.”

“I don’t know the details, I don’t think anyone does but…” She looked around. “It’s said that she has the blood of the Others in her ancestry,” she said softly.

Grace stopped, her eyes wide.

“But no one can say for sure. Come, Grace, keep walking or we’ll never get home.”

“Surely she must be one of them.”

Sarah raised her brows. “Because she looks different to the rest of us?”

“Yes.”

Sarah’s smile widened. “Do you know what the Others look like?”

Grace shook her head.

“Then how can you say that she must be one of them?”

She was about to argue, stopped to think then looked down. After a while she slowed to a stop. “What do I tell Mama? What if she’s not strong enough–”

“You let me worry about Janet.” Sarah’s tone was firm yet comforting. “She is stronger than you think. I’ll watch her.”

Grace nodded but her breathing became louder as she forced herself to face the one thought she did not want to. “If I don’t… if I fail–”

“Oh, Grace.” Sarah pulled her close. “Don’t worry about your mother. No matter what happens, I’ll care for her. I promise. But you’re not going to fail. You are not going to fail.”

Resting her head against Sarah’s shoulder, she gave in to a few tears before composing herself. “Thank you,” she said, even managing a small smile.

SEVEN

Grace had to be patient and bide her time. She could not leave straightaway but had to wait until Allhallows’ Eve. According to Ciara, that was when she’d have the best chance to free her father.

Grace had placed the small cage in her room, between the wall and her bed. Ciara had said the creature in the cage, which she called the seeker, needed no feeding, that it would stay still and quiet until it was needed. But Grace could not help checking on it. It never changed its position, remaining as it was, looking like a strange toy.

At first, Grace had thought it was a bird, but closer inspection had revealed that it wasn’t. Although it had feathers, it also had a snout and pointed ears. Ciara had said that it had started as a bird, but she had made it into something more. With a shudder, Grace hid it again under the cloth.

She would find out soon enough how well it would perform its task. Although she’d been counting the nights, wanting to leave, to save her father, her apprehension had been growing. She was scared to be in the forest, to see the Others. She was scared of failing, of never seeing her mother again.

Grace sat by Janet’s bed, wishing she could tell her what she would be doing in a few hours. But she didn’t dare upset her mother who seemed to be wasting away.

Janet slowly opened her eyes, and Grace hurriedly smiled. As she tried to lift her head, Grace helped her before holding a cup of water to her parched lips.

“I’m sorry,” said Janet, her voice brittle as dry leaves.

“Sorry for what?”

“I’m failing you, I know… feel so weak–”

“No, Mama, you’re not failing me. You’re unwell, that’s all. You just need to rest then you’ll feel better.”

With a sigh, Janet lay back down and turned her face away, closing her eyes again.

Grace pressed her curled knuckles against her mouth to stop herself revealing her plans. She sat quietly, holding Janet’s hand, every now and then kissing it.

The door opened, and Sarah stepped in. To Grace’s surprise, Edward, Sarah’s husband, stood just outside the doorway.

Sarah motioned Grace to step out and hugged her as they passed each other. “Be brave,” she whispered. “Our prayers are going with you. And don’t worry about your mother, I’ll be here with her.”

Grace held on for a few moments longer then walked out, not daring to look back at her mother in case she lost her courage. She looked up at Edward, tall and well-muscled, his hair the same deep, rich yellow as Kate’s. Although he seldom smiled and always seemed to wear a perpetual scowl, Grace knew him to be a good, kind man.

“I’m not happy with you doing this, my girl, but I understand. I’ll walk with you to within sight of the forest.”

All Grace could think to say was, “Thank you, Papa Edward.” She went to her room and came out with the cloth-covered cage. Then, covering herself with her cloak, she walked out the door.

Grace and Edward walked in silence to the forest, to where Ciara had told her would be the best place to enter.

“I’ll wait for you, back there on the path,” said Edward.

“But–”

“No, Grace, I’m not allowed to enter the forest with you, but I’m not returning home without you. I’ll have a lamp burning so you can make your way out of the forest.”

She nodded, realising it was futile to argue, secretly reassured that he’d be near. “Thank you.”

Suddenly he grabbed her hand, trapping it in his large one. “You must take very good care in the forest, Grace. I know you will not fail, you will bring Thomas home.” Then he walked back to the path to wait.

Grace watched him move away, wanting to run to him, to beg him to take her home. But she couldn’t move; it was as if roots had sprung from her feet to bind her to the ground. Grimacing at the sound of her drumming heart, she could feel the familiar rising tide of tears. Her lower lip trembled, her face started to crumple, but her whimper swiftly turned to a breathless, “No.”

With an abrupt shake of her head, she squeezed her eyes shut. “Enough, Grace. Enough tears.” Ignoring her shaky voice, she continued to admonish herself as she turned to face the forest. “Everyone keeps saying how brave you are, so be brave. Only Mama or you can save Papa. Mama’s not strong enough so you must do it.” Nodding, she tried to smile. “Besides, if you don’t, then you’ve lost your hair for nothing.”

Her smile disappeared as she started to walk unsteadily towards the forest, eyes wide, trying to make out her surroundings in the gloom.

Crouching down, she uncovered the cage and reached into it. With a shudder, she removed the seeker; it felt warm and grainy in her hands. Frowning slightly, she went over Ciara’s instructions in her mind as she straightened. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Grimacing, she pushed her nail against its breast.

To her surprise, the skin broke easily. The creature didn’t flinch, and Grace felt warm liquid on her finger; the seeker’s blood. “Show me the way to the crossroads,” she stated and released it. She couldn’t tell if it flew as birds did. But it was as Ciara had said – the seeker’s dripping blood was lighting her way to her destination where Grace was to rescue her father and escape. Or fail and be lost forever.

EIGHT

Grace crouched near the stream by the crossroads, waiting for the queen of the Others to lead her followers in their yearly Allhallows’ Eve procession. Her hand rested against her apron pocket, feeling the shape of the seeker. She’d wondered if it was dead, but it was as still as when it was supposedly alive. Ciara had told her to place the seeker close to her for it would afford her some protection against the Others.

Grace heard them before she saw them. A low, continuous moaning seemed to creep towards her before surrounding her. Pressing her lips together to stop herself whimpering, she trembled at the sound of clinking chains and things being dragged on the ground. Then they came into view. She inadvertently raised her hands, ready to cover her eyes. Instead, she jammed her fist against her mouth, stifling a scream.

Grace wouldn’t have been able to explain why, but there was something about the Others that set her teeth on edge, that made her want to hide away like a frightened child. They were tall, skeletal, similar to Ciara, but these creatures were so pale, they seemed to glow. She couldn’t tell male from female. Some were cloaked, some were clothed in gossamer gowns that hid little. Some rode animals that looked horse-like with red eyes and long, pointed faces. The Others that walked carried lamps on misshapen poles that lit their way but also cast twisted shadows around them.

Grace guessed the one in the front, leading the procession on a horse-creature the colour of ashes, was the queen. So much paler than her followers, her skin seemed translucent. She wore flowing grey-white robes draped over her thin body, which left her shoulders bare. Most of her hair hung down her back except for twin sections that curved upwards on either side of her head. With a gasp, Grace realised her mistake. It wasn’t hair but a pair of spiralling, red-tipped horns. When the queen turned her head, Grace hid her face. The sight of the queen’s bulging red eyes was more than she could bear.

Looking away from the queen to try and find her father, Grace noticed there were those in the procession that weren’t so tall, weren’t so pale, and she wondered if they were humans who’d been taken. When the lamplight hit a couple of them, her heart constricted at the sight of their fixed expressions and unfocussed stares.

Then she saw Thomas. At that moment, she realised he was the only one with a beard. Bracing herself, Grace jumped up and grabbed him, pulling him out of the procession towards her. They fell backwards, landing close to the stream.

A shriek pierced the air. Grace cried out but wrapped her arms around her father as he struggled against her. “Papa, it’s me. It’s Grace.” By the glow of the lamps, all crowding close to where she and Thomas had fallen, she could see the queen had turned in her saddle, her red eyes glowing.

Thomas had started to quieten as recognition dawned in his eyes. He started to speak, but his words ended in a cry of pain, which turned into a guttural croak.

To Grace’s horror, her father disappeared but she could feel something waxy and slimy in her hand. Almost dropping the frog he’d become, she quickly cupped her other hand over it, trapping him.

The queen’s eyes glittered, and the frog grew until Grace found herself holding the warm, dry, scaly coils of a huge snake. She couldn’t help the scream that leapt from her as the snake wound itself around her body, but she refused to let go. Despite the fearful chill that washed over her, she held it tight, repeatedly reminding herself it was her father.

She’d known what her trial would be. Ciara had told her that only the unyielding grasp of a human who loved him would save Thomas, and it had to be done at midnight on Allhallows’ Eve. She had told Grace, “you must hold on to him with all your might. No matter what happens, you must not. Let. Go.”

The queen cried out and, once again, Thomas’ form changed.

To Grace’s horror, the scaly skin she was holding turned into thick fur, and she found herself staring into the open maw of a roaring bear. By now, tears were streaming down her face but still she held on with all her might as she pleaded, “Papa, please don’t hurt me, Papa, it’s your Grace, your blossom, please remember, Papa…”

The cries and howls of the Others mingled with their queen’s scream of rage. She lifted her arms and pointed her long, red-tipped talons at Grace.

Grace’s breath was whipped away as a raging wind tore past her. She almost loosened her grip on the bear that was Thomas. Except he was changing again. Grace cried out as a thick bill pecked sharply at her face. She was holding a swan, which beat its wings against her. She’d never imagined that so beautiful a creature could cause so much pain. But she held on, not weakening once.

Then the struggling stopped. All was still. Grace’s relief barely had time to blossom when she screamed. In her arms was an iron bar, aglow with heat. Stumbling to her knees, she rolled and fell into the stream, releasing her hold on the bar.

All was silent, save for Grace’s weeping and the hissing of the hot iron in the water. She sat on the bank, believing she’d failed for she’d lost her hold on her father. Her vision was obscured, not only by her tears, but also by the steam that rose from the water. As it dissipated, she gasped. Her father stood in the stream, a man once more.

“Meddling creature,” said the queen. Baring her teeth, she turned her fiery gaze on Grace.

The girl’s eyes bulged as she felt a tightening around her throat. Then the queen screeched, and the pressure eased.

“There is… something stopping me touching you.” She curved her talons at Grace as if to shred her. Then she turned her attention to Thomas, her gaze cold. “I allowed you to sit by me. I allowed you more than any other of your kind. If I had known you would still succumb to the love of a mortal, I would have cut your heart out and given you one of stone.”

Shivering slightly in the cold air, Thomas said, “She is my daughter. The love between parent and child is something you will never know or understand.”

She fixed him with an unblinking stare then straightened in the saddle. “You believe you can leave here untouched? Fool.” Her laugh made Grace think of shattered glass. “Go. Never return. No longer will you be allowed to cross the border again.” With one final, savage look at Grace, she continued on her way, her followers scowling at Thomas and Grace, hissing and growling as they went.

Edging towards Thomas, Grace shakily unfastened her sodden cloak. “Here, Papa…” After he’d wrapped it around himself, she slowly embraced him and wept once more as he held her close and kissed the top of her head.

“My brave girl, my brave blossom.” He stepped back. “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”

“No. No, Papa, I’m alright.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Come, let’s go home. I cannot wait for Mama to see you.”

“Janet,” he whispered as he nodded.

As they walked past the stream, Grace fingered the welts and scratches on her face and arms, thankful it was dark enough that her father could not see them. Although she couldn’t feel any, she hoped there weren’t burns on her arms from when he’d been turned into the hot iron bar. Resting her hand against her pocket, she realised it felt inexplicably flat. Reaching into it, all she pulled out were a few scraggly feathers. Closing her fingers over them, she winced at the unexpected heaviness in her chest.

“What’s the matter?” asked Thomas.

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.” Although she’d thought it repulsive, she was sad the little seeker was no more. It had saved her life for she’d realised it was the ‘something’ that had stopped the queen hurting her. And the seeker was still aiding her for she could see the glow of its blood trail leading away, marking the way out of the forest.

Taking her father by the hand, Grace led him out of the eerily silent forest. Only when they stepped out did she breathe more easily. Looking around, she could make out the distant glow of Edward’s lamp.

“This way, Papa. See the light there? That’s Papa Edward, waiting for us.” After a few steps, Grace realised she was walking alone and turned to see Thomas staring at the forest. “Papa?”

Shaking his head as if waking from a dream, he walked to her side and they continued towards the path.

Grace was about to call out to Edward when she realised, yet again, Thomas had stopped and was staring at the forest. Slowly, she retraced her steps to his side and, once again, took him by the hand. “Papa,” she said softly, “come home now.”

“Home?” The blankness of his tone made her shudder. “Yes… home,” he said, the blankness replaced with uncertainty, but he didn’t move.

“Papa?” Grace kept hold of his hand, not wanting to know what he’d do if she were to let go.

“I don’t know, Grace.”

He sounded so like a child, it made her heart ache.

“I feel… it’s as if the forest…” Thomas rubbed his chest. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to leave it.” Tightening his grip on her hand, he whispered, “What if she’s right, the queen? What if I cannot leave untouched?”

“No.” Grace jumped at the sound of her own voice, so loud and sure. “I don’t believe that. She only said that because she’s angry at losing you. She no longer has you, Papa, not even one small part of you and she never will again. I won’t allow it.”

“You won’t allow it?”

Although she could barely make out his features in the dark, Grace could hear the smile in his voice. Standing tall, she started to smile – a genuine, unforced smile and she could feel the truth of her words in her heart. “Our family is together again, you, me and Mama.” Despite the ache she felt for her lost brother, she continued. “The Others, their queen, they’ve taken so much from us already. But we’re strong enough now to stand against them. I believe it, Papa.”

Long moments passed in silence before Thomas embraced her. “Then I believe it also, my blossom.”

As they walked to where Edward waited for them, it occurred to Grace that she was missing something. As realisation dawned, a smile replaced her frown. The constant dread that had dogged her steps for so many years was dwindling. It was as if she had left it behind, washed away in the stream by the crossroads, in the forest of the Others.

AFTER…

The woman sat hunched over the table, crooning softly to the creature cradled in her hand while her other hand rested on the pot before her. Scattered around the pot were eggshell fragments, a broken butterfly with one wing, a tree branch. Tilting the pot, she scraped at the remnants of the yellow-white paste with her finger and anointed the creature’s motionless face. The polished rocks arranged in a neat semi-circle on the far edge of the table quivered lightly as the creature’s shape shifted and changed.

Satisfied with her efforts, the woman’s smile froze as she sat upright, her uncovered eye staring at nothing. Inclining her head, her unfocussed gaze sharpened as her smile slowly widened. She kissed the creature and placed it in the cage on the floor and crossed the room to open the door.

A cluster of Others fidgeted by the tree line. They made as if to dart closer but stayed where they were. One had ventured closer to the house, Ciara’s house.

“Malka. You should have sent word,” said Ciara. “The place is too much of a mess for one such as yourself.”

Malka, the queen of the Others, edged closer. Clearly ill at ease, her hesitant movements suggested there was something obstructing her. “You helped that wretched mortal. It was you.”

Ciara grinned as she toyed with her purple-black braid. “Yes, it was me.”

“He would still be mine if not for you.”

She shrugged. “The girl wanted her father, who was I to deny her?” Ciara brushed the end of the braid against her cheek.

“Why? Why do you persist in tormenting me?”

“Me? Torment you?” Ciara’s right eye narrowed as she snorted. “Surely it does not matter, you can always have another.”

“Not like him,” she said softly, breathlessly, half-closing her blood-red eyes.

Silent moments crept by as Ciara noted Malka’s demeanour and flushed skin. “You love him.” It wasn’t a question but a clear statement.

The queen stared then shook her head, her spiralling horns almost quivering with the violent movement. “No! What a thing to say,” she said with a high-pitched laugh as she averted her gaze.

“Such a clumsy denial for a queen. The only one you are fooling is yourself, Malka.” A harsh laugh fell from her. “Now, finally, you will know real torment. The same torment my mother suffered at your hands. Except none will lock you away, will they?”

“That was not my doing–”

“It was your mother’s, I know, but you did nothing to help my mother or me even when I begged you to speak for us. Your mother would have listened if you had asked her to show mercy.” As Ciara advanced on her, Malka backed away. “Still afraid of me, cousin dear? Even after all this time?”

Malka glanced at her and frowned. “When did your hair turn black? I thought–”

“It was a gift. It is beautiful, is it not?” She flicked the end of her braid against Malka’s bloodless cheek.

Malka’s blank red-eyed stare gradually widened. “That… mortal. She had black hair…”

Ciara chuckled. “And now, I have black hair. Lustrous, shining black hair.”

“Abomination,” whispered Malka with a shudder.

“You call me an abomination?” Ciara drew herself up, her eye bright with anger. “You stand before me, in love with a human–”

“Hush.” Glancing back at her subjects, Malka made as if to cover Ciara’s mouth.

“Oh. They do not know?” She laughed before turning serious. “Your kind, always taking humans, to mate, to strengthen your dying race, and you call me an abomination. And now, here you are, not so different from my mother. Except my mother did not trick my father. Their love for one another was true. But my mother was locked away, my father, murdered. And I was turned into the court drudge.”

“I told you, that was not me–”

“But you did nothing to help me. I begged but you simply watched when they used me for… amusement.”

“You cannot keep blaming me for things I did not do.” She turned and walked away.

Ciara closed the distance between them and grabbed Malka’s bone-white wrist.

Malka screamed. The Others by the tree line howled and gibbered, but none came to their queen’s aid.

Ciara didn’t loosen her grip; she knew her touch burned the Others, thanks to the protection that surrounded her home, that augmented her powers.

Writhing in her efforts to free herself, Malka was almost on her knees. “Damn Donla,” she said through gritted teeth. “If not for her, you would not be here to plague me.”

“Do not speak ill of her.” Ciara twisted her hand, relishing her cousin’s pained moans. “She was the only one who cared for me.”

Her lips curled back, Malka struggled to speak. “She was my mother’s nurse first, yet she betrayed her.”

“And my mother’s also. She loved my mother and she loved me. She saw what would become of your kind. Donla tried to warn your mother but she would not listen. Instead, your vicious mother had my father murdered and kept me as a plaything. She did not have to kill my mother, but she did. Her own sister. And you wonder why Donla fled with me.” She released Malka, curbing the urge to kick her.

Clutching her arm against her body, rubbing her blistered wrist, the queen of the Others slowly got to her feet. “Your mother knew the punishment for dallying with humans, yet she continued. She is to blame for their deaths, not my mother.”

“And what would your punishment have been if you still had the girl’s father? How convenient that your mother’s law no longer prevails.”

Malka had no reply. Shaking her head, she stepped back. “Donla protects you still.”

Ciara allowed herself a small smile. “She taught me the ancient arts that you allowed to be forgotten. She told me what to do with her bones. And now none of you can touch me.” She watched her cousin back away and turn to join her creatures. “Know this, Malka. As long as you live, as long as you take humans, I will make you suffer. This I do to honour my mother and my father. My human father.”