The Willow's Forest

Prologue:

“It takes four days for a Willow’s Fever patient to die. That is, four days after the first symptoms appear. The first day, the patient merely believes they ate something wrong or have caught a minor cold. There’s some coughing, a minor stomach ache, but not much else. The second day, though, the family has gotten suspicious, usually the patient too, but sometimes they will remain in denial. The coughing sometimes results in blood, the patient can hardly get out of bed, and there’s often vomiting. The family calls the doctor who comes to the house to inspect the patient. The doctor regretfully refers them to the city’s witch doctor who comes the next day. On the third day, when the witch doctor inspects the ill, the patient can hardly speak, their appetite is gone, and all the previous symptoms continue. The witch doctor confirms the family’s worst fears and gives them a vial of medicine to ease the suffering. There’s only one day left, which is spent mostly sleeping thanks to the medicine. Then, approximately ninety-two hours after the first symptoms, the patient dies.

“Some clarification about what the Willow’s Fever actually is will be required for anyone new to the city. Those of you to whom this applies have likely never heard of the Willow’s Fever. If you haven’t heard of the Fever, then you probably haven’t heard much about the Forest. In fact, you’ll look out the window and ask, “What forest?” There is a forest of weeping willows beyond the poorest quarters of the city. In it resides a strange magic, causing it to only appear at night. May you be lucky enough to never see it. The Forest is ruled by the Willow King, a powerful tree spirit who rules over all the fae in his realm. Long ago, the Willow Forest existed in both day and night and the city lived in peace with the fae. Then, someone who was new to the city, like you, attempted to set up a logging business. The Forest drew into the shadows of the night and cursed the city so that one person each year is taken ill with the Fever. It’s not a detrimental loss, though the population was once so small that it was, and the curse chooses its victims randomly. Nothing can be done about it however, since anyone who tries to venture into the forest never comes back.

“Don’t worry. There’s only about a 0.00005% chance of you getting the Fever each year. You’ll be fine.”

_______________________________________________________

The City:

The door slams shut behind me as I burst onto the street in a fury. My mother is sick. Probably with the Fever. It’s been two days now since her first symptoms and I still remember the dire warning given to us the first time we moved to this city. I’m walking to Ms. Crackerfield’s house a few streets away. She’s also known as “the Cackler” or “that old crone” by those who live in this part of the city. Why would I be going to a mystic when my mother’s sick? Because Dr. Martin won’t come and see her.

Dr. Martin is the current witch doctor. The regular doctors don’t like her, partly

because she’s more capable than the rest of them, partly because she’s a woman, mostly because her title is ‘witch.’ That's why the other doctors call her 'Ms. Martin' not 'Dr', they just plain don't like the idea of her. Anyway, anyone who’s worried that one of their loved ones has the Willow’s fever calls Dr. Martin. I called Dr. Martin. But apparently she’s busy with one of the big business owners of the city. If the news is to be believed, one of their sons went into the forest briefly and is now cursed. Rumors say he’s turned part plant. I don’t really care, though. Because of this stupidity, Dr. Martin can’t come and see my mother in her last days to ease her pain.

So now I’m going to a mystic who is said to be just as powerful as Dr. Martin... but crazier. She makes her living by advising those poor and desperate enough to look for help in magic. Which I am, so… yup.

I haven’t actually seen Ms. Crackerfield’s shop, but I find that I don’t have to worry. It is obviously one of the oldest houses on the block with barely two stories. Sandwiched between two apartment buildings, I find the wooden house sitting with a faded sign exclaiming, “Mystic! Learn your destiny!”

I push open the door and a store bell chimes above me. The area looks like a regular old house with a living room in sight and the sort of wooden floor that not many places have nowadays. Nothing’s for sale and the only sign that this place is a business is a chair with a placard asking me to “wait here.”

Also the weird old lady standing next to it who’s staring at me. 

The elderly woman who I assume is Ms. Crackerfield has a sagging face that seems to wear a permanent expression of tired disappointment. Or maybe she’s just tired and disappointed. It would actually track with what I’ve heard about her.

“Ms. Kattenburg, welcome,” the woman says in a stressed and hoarse voice. “Come into the meeting room.” She gestures to a doorway blocked off by a curtain of colored beads.

“You’re Ms. Crackerfield, right?” I ask, stepping forward to let the door swing close behind me. The place smells just like you’d expect from an old lady pretending to be a mystic. Except Ms. Crackerfield is a real mystic who isn’t trying to scam money out of people... I think. 

“Yes, I am,” she says. Her crackling voice makes me want to grimace. However, I am a polite and respectable member of society, so I don’t. “And you are Carmen Kattenburg, here for your mother. Come, I’ll show you what you want to know.” She pulls back the curtain and gestures toward a dark room with a round table and two chairs.

I step closer warily and Crackerfield waves me in impatiently. Ducking my head, I quickly pass under her arm and the revoltingly loud beads. I stand to the side of the table, which sports a classic crystal ball as a center piece, and wait for the mystic to sit first before taking my own chair.

“Your mother has the Fever,” Crackerfield states, expressionless as she stares at me.

“Er, yes. That would be right,” I say.

“So you came to me.”

“Yeah," I say impatiently

“Why would you come to me?”

I stare at her. “You’re a mystic, are you not, Ms. Crackerfield? Don’t you already know?” I say defensively.

“I know what is,” she says. “I do not know why you choose certain things. I only know general ideas of what people want when they come to me, not necessarily why they would choose me.” She tilts her head. “You didn't know this?"

I glare at her. “I guess not."

“No. Of course not.” Crackerfield rolls her eyes and sighs. “Well, I do require payment in advance.”

“Seriously?” Shoot. I had really been hoping she would get straight to telling me what to do and then I could ‘pay her later.’

“Five dollars a session,” she confirms. Her voice is getting on my nerves. She sounds like she used to be a smoker, but I don’t see or smell any evidence that it’s a current habit.

I sigh and pull out my wallet to see what I’ve got. Damn it. Exactly five dollars. I take it back that she’s not here to scam money out of people. I take out the cash and shove it across the table.

“Thank you, Carmen,” the crone says, taking the money with a drooping grin and tucking it away safely. I cringe at the sight of her yellowed teeth. Not that mine will be any better when I’m her age. She clasps her hands on the table and looks me in the eyes. “I can do nothing to help your mother.”

"You thief!" I yell, jumping out of my chair. "What a terrible woman you are. Deceiving me when I come for your help! You can't lie, I know you can help her if any of what's said about you is true. You're as powerful as Dr. Martin, are you not?" Despite her sudden --yet possibly predictable-- betrayal, I must hold on to the hope that she can help me. 

“Sit down, you ignorant fool! I haven’t finished. You’ll still get your money’s worth,” she says loudly, waving her arms and scowling at me until I sit down. She’s still scowling as she continues to speak. “I can’t help you, but I can give you some directions to the right path,” she says. “Also, not all magic doers are the same, you idiot! Dr. Martin is a witch doctor and I am a mystic. Those are two very different things.” She lets out a shuddering sigh of annoyance. “Now, will you listen to me or not?”

I prop my arms on the table and lean my face into my palms. “C’mon. You already know the answer, don’t you? I’ll take what I can get.” I really don’t have time for this nonsense. I only have two days before my mother’s gone.

“Yes… Well, I also know you won’t accept my answer.” Ms. Crackerfield taps the crystal ball absentmindedly with her long nails and glares at me.

“I thought you didn’t know emotions,” I accuse.

“Not magically. Now do you want my advice or not?”

“You’ve already taken my money, so get on with it.”

“Good.” She puts her hands on the crystal, which begins to glow. I roll my eyes at the theatrics and cross my arms. “Find the bush like a cranberry with a yellow line through its leaves. Follow the stream into the Forest and you will reach the spring. Give the berries of the bush to your mother and she will be cured.”

“Wait. Wait, no. Not the Willow Forest, right? You’re not talking about the Willow Forest,” I interrupt in a panic.

“Yes, child. The ancient realm of the Willow King,” she says.

“That’s crazy! You’re crazy!” I yell, jumping out of my chair again. “I’m leaving. Someone else can help me!”

“The mystic chuckles. “Who? The Willows are your only option. You won’t find anyone else to help you.”

“Watch me!” I storm past the bead curtain and relish the sound of the store bell struggling to ring enough for how violently I fling open the door. For the second time today, I rush out onto the street in a rage. Probably not the best mindset for navigating these busy roads.

I’m well beyond the mystic’s house before my anger reduces to a simmer and I begin to think. I wonder if maybe she’s right. I know she is right about me not being able to find anyone else, but I’m thinking about the spring, if maybe I can actually save my mother. But I’m no help to her if I get myself killed in the Forest. And that has a chance of about… one hundred percent. So, no. I’m not going into the forest.

Would she have told me if I had no chance, though? My mind races slowly in tiny circles. I walk on autopilot as I try to find hope.

But there’s none. I can’t survive the forest.

Unfortunately for me, the human mind is rather stupid when it comes to these kinds of decisions. I know where the stream is, I could follow it and find the berries and come home and save my mother!

God, I’m an idiot. I’m going to get myself killed. I can feel it in the way I’m walking; there’s no way to change my mind. Stupid, irrational emotions...

I open the door to our apartment and quietly start packing supplies. I won’t need much since I’ll either die tonight or be unable to save my mother. You know, Crackerfield is probably smirking right now, laughing at my stupidity. I’m serious. This is absolutely idiotic.

My mother drowsily calls out from her bed. “Carmen? Is that you?”

“Yes, mother. I’m going to try and help you.”

Mother shifts uncomfortably to face me. “I know… I…have-have-havethe... F-Feeheever.... Youcan’t hahh-help… me.” She breaths heavily and coughs.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t try,” I say stubbornly.

“Carmen… Wuh-where are you going?” It’s funny how it gets easier for her to speak if she’s suspicious that I’m going to get myself in trouble. Which, to be fair, I am.

“I’m just going out for a bit. Finding something to help you. I’ve already prepared you a meal.” I point to a sandwich on her nightstand

She sits in thought for a moment. “Carmen… Thessse are my... last few days; I want to... ssspend th-them with my child.” 

I almost give in, but I know her just as well as she knows me, and part of that is knowing she's a sly little lady who's never really been one for affection; I know what she’s really getting at. “You’ll have plenty of time for me to dote on you when I get back,” I say, turning to leave.

“Carmen!” she tries to yell. “Get back here.”

“I also put one of the last pickles on the plate.”

She looks over at the food for the first time and slumps in her bed in defeat. “Well, alright. Just don’t be too long.”

“As always, mother.” 

She nods and I leave the apartment, satchel in hand.

_______________________________________________________

The Willow Forest:

It’s already late afternoon, but we live relatively close to the Willows since we are poorer than most, so it doesn’t take me long to reach the edge of the field that exists in place of the forest during the day. Now I know I said I knew where the stream was, but that was only from maps, so it takes me a moment to find the water. It stands out unnaturally in the landscape, carving a line into the perfectly grassy landscape. All the grass is the same height and there doesn’t appear to be any other plants, part of what makes the stream seem so unnatural; there is no extra growth near the plentiful water. 

I don’t like it.

But I prefer it over the forest. I saw the Forest once before and am not looking forward to repeating the experience. There was just something instinctively wrong and frightening about it. Of course, maybe it wouldn't seem so bad if it showed itself during daylight hours.

The sun is just starting to set. The clouds turn orange above my head and flee the field. When the last bit of the white coin disappears beyond the horizon and all that's left is the lingering light, a gust of wind bringing the sound of rustling leaves blows past my face. Suddenly, a young willow tree appears not a meter in front of me, making me shout and stumble backwards in surprise. I wasn’t expecting the Forest to be this close. It was at least a quarter of a kilometer farther from the city last time I was here. Does that mean the Forest is expanding? That would mean it could eventually take over the city... a foreboding thought. 

Although, perhaps things would be better that way…

I take a deep breath and peer around the willow. Green-blue leaves drooping downward next to lightly colored bark replace the empty fields that had been there just moments ago. Between trees, undergrowth with coin-like leaves fill in gaps and bushes with miniature white flowers are scattered throughout.

The remaining sunlight is almost completely blocked by the trees now and as I begin to follow the now normal looking stream, I enter complete darkness. I was smart enough to bring my thicker coat, but it is still almost unbearably cold. My only comfort is the sound of the stream bubbling along beside me and the smell of damp grass that signals the proximity of the water.

I hear rustling ahead of me and freeze, trying to keep completely still despite my shivering. A cyan orb of light floats out from behind a bush and wanders toward the stream. More start to appear from all around, most of them gravitating towards the water. I can see again, but am now surrounded by wisps.

I’ve heard lots of stories about wisps and how they lure travelers into danger to be killed, wandering even beyond the limits of the Forest. As far as I know, though, they’re harmless as long as you don’t follow them. Still, I decide to keep a good distance between the wisps and me as I continue forward. It’s a little more tedious, but at least I’m not tripping over tree roots.

As I continue, I start to sort of enjoy the company of the wisps. They float along silently and can even be considered cute. Maybe they only lead people astray outside of the forest. It’s quite beautiful, actually. All the little lights look so peaceful as they drift around.

Whelp. I’ve gone insane. Better hurry this up before I’m too far gone.

I pick up my pace and try to ignore the sound of wisps rustling through bushes behind me.

Wait a minute...

I watch as a wisp silently through a tree as if it doesn’t exist. Silently. I associated the rustling with the wisps because of when I’d first seen one, but it’s apparent that they don’t make any sounds. There’s something else here…

I step forward again and the rustling continues. I turn to the bush that made the noise and stare at it, waiting for a monster to come out and eat me. Except nothing happens. There’s just more silence.

I take a deep breath and pick up a long stick. I’m pretty sure my subconscious has a death wish at this point, because poking the possibly dangerous bush is the worst thing to do in this situation. But I do it anyway! ‘Cause, like I said: death wish.

“Ow!” a strange voice yells from the bush.

I step back sharply and watch the bush, frozen yet again.

A strange creature emerges with hair the color of the willow leaves and skin almost the same texture and color as the bark. It’s definitely not human and its eyes are yellow and cat-like. The only thing really human about it is its general figure and the poor farmer’s clothes it’s wearing that are both too big for it and obviously old and worn. Clothes it likely stole off one of its victims. Or maybe off multiple victims. And I just poked it. With a twig. I am so screwed.

“Why’d you do that?!” it says. Its voice is strange and echoes, like musical notes in an enclosed space. It hardly moves its mouth to speak, making its speech even more weird. Perhaps the word is 'ethereal' but I honestly don't know what to call it. “Well?” It asks again.

“Uh… Well, I thought you were, er, following me and, uh... thought it'd be safer not to search the bush myself.” I say after a moment. I stare at its gnarled fingers and sharp, claw-like nails. If I had to guess, I'd say it's a tree spirit, the kind of fae that rules the Forest and is the most powerful and intelligent. Of all the fae I could have encountered, this one is probably the worst.

The creature crosses its arms, a surprisingly human gesture. "Well it hurt."

"Um... Sorry." I'm unsure what to say. I thought I'd be dead by now. Maybe I am and I'm a ghost explaining myself to my murderer.

Its sigh sounds like leaves blowing in the wind. "You are very much a human, aren't you?" 

I panic. "Nope! Not human! Just a... not human." Yeah, I'm going to die.

I wait for it to kill me, but instead it laughs. At least I think that's what's happening. It sounds a little bit like creaking wood... but like musically so...and with the weird echoiness of its voice... Look, my point is it seems amused, okay? "I hadn't realized humans could be so entertaining!"

"Oh?" I ask. Maybe if it talks enough, I'll be able to escape somehow. It wouldn't be such a bad idea if daylight wasn't so many hours away.

"Yes. Usually they're dead so they can't talk. "

Yikes.

It looks at me curiously. "I don't kill them. That's not my job." Is it trying to reassure me?

And wait, things have different jobs here? “What is your job then?”

The creature suddenly gets annoyed. “I just sit around. I help ‘manage’ the forest, which means sitting all night long.”

“You don’t look like you’re just sitting around,” I point out.

They smile lightly. “No. I got bored.”

I nod and smile warily back. “Um… Well, I’ve got to go now…” I turn back to my path along the river and start walking. I look back, but the tree spirit has disappeared.

I swallow and try not to worry about the tree spirit. They said they didn’t kill people, and it seemed like they wouldn’t get another creature to try and kill me. I just hope that I reach the spring soon, I don’t want to stay in this place any longer than I have to. Each second is another chance something in here will notice me and decide I can’t be here.

Not a minute later, though, there’s more rustling in the bushes. I stop and scan the trees and bushes around cautiously. “Is that you again?” I call out.

The silence chills my bones. 

“I'll poke you with a stick again,” I try to warn, but my voice shakes up my words.

“That would be rude,” the tree spirit’s voice says from to my left. I turn and watch them emerge from another bush and shake off stray twigs and leaves. 

I let out a sigh of relief. I don’t like that this thing is following me, but at least I know it isn't going to kill me. Well, not right this moment.

I take a deep breath and confront the creature. “Why are you following me?” 

“I told you. I’m bored and I’ve never seen a live human before,” they say frankly.

“Well, that’s great and all, but could you not?” 

“No.”

“Seriously?” I say, exasperated.

They shrug and don’t move.

I wait a moment, but nothing changes. I sigh. “Alright, but do you at least have a name?” Maybe if they prefer me alive, they won’t let other things in this forest kill me. This could actually work out well.

“I’m called Ablonic,” they say.

I stare. “Ablonic? Like a weird kind of… tonic?”

They huff angrily. “No, part of Salix Babylonica.” They roll their cat-like eyes at my confused expression. “It means weeping willow,” they explain.

“Oh…” I say. “Do you weep a lot?” Probably not the best thing to ask, but I’m not a plant person.

Ablonic gapes at me. “No! All these trees are weeping willows! It’s because of the way their branches droop downward. It has nothing to do with actual weeping.”

“Oh, sorry. Well, um… my name is Carmen,” I offer.

“Like the succulent?” Ablonic asks.

“No. Like, er, ‘song.’” At least, that’s what my mother tells me.

“Do you sing a lot?” they say mockingly.

I give an annoyed sigh. “No.” I shake my head. “I’m going to continue now. If you insist that you have nothing better to do, then at least stop trying to sneak around in the bushes. You’re very loud.

“Okay.”

I frown slightly at the simplistic response and turn back to my path.

Okay, then, forward march. The stream has widened at this point and is pretty easy to follow, especially with the wisps. 

I start to hear a peculiar bubbling sound up ahead and quicken my pace. Soon enough, a small spring comes into sight. There are berry bushes under the willow that covers the spring. They’re small enough to be cranberries, but when I look closer, I can’t tell whether there’s any yellow lines like Ms. Crackerfield said, it’s just too dark.

I turn to Ablonic. As long as they’re here, maybe they can help me. “Hey, do you know what kind of plant this is? And I don’t mean the scientific name; I don’t know those.” I gesture to the bush in front of me.

Ablonic walks up to stand beside me and touches the leaves lightly. “This is a cranberry,” they say.

Darn. I was really hoping to get this over with. “Are any of these other berry bushes not cranberries,” I ask.

Ablonic looks at the bushes and travels around the spring, examining the plants. Halfway through their observation, when they’re on the other side of the spring, they turn sharply to face me. “Why?”

“Why… what?” I ask slowly.

“Why do you want to know if any of these aren’t cranberries?”

I’m surprised by the sudden change in tone. They seem upset, almost angry. “Well,” I start, trying to think of what to say. “My mother is sick. I’m told that a kind of berry grows here that can cure her,” I say, taking the honesty route.

They seem to soften a little but are still somewhat hostile. “What ailment could your mother possibly have that these berries would cure?”

“She has the Willow’s Fever. I was told that these berries could save her,” I repeat. The change in attitude is unsettling, and I’m starting to wonder whether Ablonic will change their mind about me being better alive.

“What’s the Willow’s Fever?” they ask cautiously.

“What do you mean? Are you kidding me?” I say, raising my voice. “It’s the curse that the Willow King cast on our city. Once a year someone dies because of it! This year it’s supposed to be my mother, and I’m not letting that happen.”

“The Willow King cursed your city?” Ablonic asks, distraught.

It’s my turn to be upset. “What do you mean? Of course he did! Isn’t this whole forest intent on punishing any humans that come into its territory?” I shake my head angrily and bring my palm to my face. “Please. I just want to save my mother.”

Ablonic sighs. They cross over the stream and hold out their hand, revealing two berries. “Your mother should only need one berry. The second is just in case.” They hesitate a moment. “You really don’t know anything else about the berries?”

“No,” I assure them. “I’m just here to save my mother.” I bring out the pouch I brought and let them drop the berries inside. “Thank you,” I say.

They nod silently in response.

I tighten the strings on the pouch and turn to the stream once more. “I guess I’ll head back now.” 

“I’ll come with you. More creatures in here will notice you if you have those berries.”

“Oh. Isn't that just wonderful.”

“Huh?” They give me a look as if I’m crazy. I probably am at this point, but not for the reasons they're clearly imagining.

“I was being sarcastic,” I explain.

“Oh!” Realization dawns on Ablonic’s wood-like face. “See, humans are more interesting than plants. Plants aren’t sarcastic.”

“Huh. I suppose they wouldn’t be,” I say, walking alongside the stream.

Ablonic follows like they said and we make good time through the forest. The stream thins and then widens again besides us and our greatest obstacles are the willows’ hanging leaves and the wisps. I’m no longer very weary of the wisps, but I still refuse to get close enough to touch them.

We get about halfway back, I think, when the stream begins to swell and rush past at abnormal speed. I stop and watch in fear as a whirlpool forms and rises to form a somewhat humanoid shape. There’s nothing to be considered legs, but there does seem to be a head and arms. Water surges through the central tunnel that replaces the would-be legs and then pours off the water being’s head and back into the stream.

“Ablonic,” a warbling voice says. “Why is everyone coming to me saying that there's a human in the forest and that you're with it. Why is it still alive?” It sounds like a teacher when they catch a kid somewhere they aren’t supposed to be.

Ablonic steps to the water’s edge to face the water spirit. “They’re more interesting alive.”

“It’s your father’s own decree that says that all humans found in the forest must be killed.” Bubbles blow up through its body and out its mouth to form its voice. “Even you can’t defy him.” The elemental crosses its arms and gives what looks like a stare.

“Yes, I can,” Ablonic challenges.

The elemental glowers a moment then a spurt of water spits out of its head in surprise. “She- she has the berries! Why does she have the berries?!” It sprays water and jiggles around in a panic. I have no doubt that it could drown me easily, but something about Ablonic is stopping it from doing anything. “Seriously, Ablonic! If there was one thing the Willow King wouldn’t allow --if he hadn't already forbidden all humans-- would be humans with the berries! He would never allow one of them to become immune to his magic. How did you not notice this! Why won’t you just kill it?!”

Ablonic crosses their arms angrily. “It’s not like she knew the berries made creatures immune to Willow magic before you said so! And they’re for her mother, who’s been cursed by ‘the King.’ Did you know he laid a curse on their city?!” they accuse.

“What do you mean?” the elemental says frantically. “I probably did. I don’t really care! If he finds out that I didn’t kill it, I would be- he'd-” Its eyes focus on me. “No. I can’t let this happen.” 

It lunges at me and stinging cold water envelopes me, battering me like I’m under a wave. I can’t scream or even breathe. I try to struggle, but anywhere I go, the elemental just follows me. I start to feel faint and can’t think straight. For some reason I’m glad that at least one thing in this place was like the stories. It'd seem weird that so many people have died here otherwise...

Suddenly, the water shoots off me and into the stream. I splutter and look up to see Ablonic… hugging the elemental? I don’t think I’m seeing things right.

The water-being screams and thrashes. “Stop! Stop! I won’t!”

Ablonic waits a moment then steps back from the embrace. The elemental is looking considerably smaller. “Don’t try that again,” Ablonic warns, backing off from the stream. They turn to the rest of the forest. "I will not let the human be killed," they announce, turning back to the water and looking at the spirit menacingly. The elemental nods sullenly and dissolves into the water. 

Ablonic grabs my wrist with their rough hands and pulls me somewhat violently farther away from the stream, but still going in the direction of the city. After we get out of sight of where the water elemental was, I pull my hand free and struggle to keep up with their pace.

“You seem weirdly upset,” I note. “I should be the upset one. I almost got killed."

Ablonic pauses. “That’s true,” they admit. “I just don’t like a lot of my father’s decisions,” they explain with a grumble. 

I think for a moment, back to what the water spirit said. “Ablonic, is the Willow King… your father?”

They grumble angrily. “Yeah. Essentially.”

What sort of answer is that? How can you be ‘essentially’ related to someone? “So… are you his son or daughter?” I say, finally asking the question that has been on my mind.

They laugh. I’m sort of offended, but I probably deserve it. “I’m not male or female.”

“But the Willow King is a guy, right?” I ask.

They grumble, annoyed one again. “Sort of. There are male and female trees. So when a tree spirit chooses a tree, we also choose a gender. Before that, we have none. The first tree that my father chose was a male tree. Despite being bonded to many trees now, both male and female, he chose to keep the gender of the first tree.

“I, as a direct (ish) relative, also represent multiple trees. Unlike him, I remain without gender. I think it would get confusing sometimes, especially with how many trees he represents, but what do I know.”

I’m surprised at how talkative Ablonic has become. I guess they have a lot to say about their father. 

There’s a moment of awkward silence before I ask my next pressing question. “You said ‘essentially’ and ‘ish.’ How does that make sense? Is he or isn’t he your father?”

“I am technically part of the progeny of my mother and father’s original trees. So my ‘father’ represents the tree who is really my father. So technically he’s not really my father, but thanks to weird magic, we are the same species and he represents my father, so he is considered my father,” they say.

“Uh… That’s not particularly helpful…”

“Oh? Would you like to go into detail of how your species reproduces?” they challenge.

“Ah… no. Nevermind, I think I get it well enough,” I say with a wince.

Ablonic laughs slightly and continues walking. After a moment, they stop again. “The one berry should cure your mother. If you still have the second one, eat it. If you don’t, the Willow King will try to kill you.” They pause a moment as if in thought. “Well, he still will anyway, but this way he can’t use magic,” they amend. 

“Great,” I say. I absentmindedly fiddle with the berry pouch. It seems strange that after all I’ve heard about this place, I may leave better than when I entered it. A promise that neither me or my mother can ever get the Willow’s Fever? Yeah, that sounds pretty nice. I wonder if I would have been this lucky if Ablonic hadn’t been bored tonight.

The rest of the journey goes by rather uneventfully. Besides the wisps, the only other creature we encounter is an owl, which I must admit, almost made me scream when it hooted loudly above my head.

Through the trees I start to see the glow of city lights. We reach the edge of the forest, almost at the same spot that I entered, and stop.

I turn to Ablonic. “Thanks. I was pretty sure my chances of surviving this were none,” I say.

They look at me strangely. “Usually, animals operate on the mentality of surviving at all costs.”

“Humans are weird.”

Ablonic nods. “That’s why you’re more interesting alive,” they say. I’ve found I’ve gotten used to the way they talk, strange as it is with them hardly moving their mouth even while their voice resonates in the air. I didn’t know what to expect from a tree spirit, but it was not a voice that sounds almost musical.

“Thank you for not letting that water spirit kill me,” I say. “I appreciate it.”

They give a small smile. “I don’t really like him anyway.”

I smile. “Well then, goodbye. Thanks,” I say after a moment, stepping out of the forest with a wave.

And with that step, I’ve done it; I’ve survived the Willow’s Forest. I glance down at the berry pouch. I’ve survived the Willow’s Forest and found a cure for the fever, all that’s left is to go home.

_______________________________________________________

Journey Home:

Re-entering the city is strange. The lights are yellow, not blue, and are completely stationary. And there’s so many sounds! It’s startling after the almost dead silence of the Willow Forest. The ground is really hard too. I hadn’t realized there was much of a difference between concrete and packed dirt, but I am very aware now. Also, the air smells like socks. In fact, the whole place just seems uncomfortable after spending the majority of the night in the calmness of the Forest.

I reach home easily and find my mother asleep in bed, sandwich half eaten and blankets tossed all over. Everything is just as I left it, a comforting fact after the uncertainty of the Forest. 

I drop the berry pouch in my nightstand and double-check that the door is locked. I set down my bag in what passes for the kitchen and settle into my own bed, turning out the light that my mother has left on the entire night. The warmth of home is nice, and soon enough, I drift into sleep, dreaming about wisps drifting through the city, trying to lure me into the Willow King’s grasp.

_______________________________________________________

The Cure:

When I wake up, a dim light is coming through the windows. My mother is still asleep and I manage to make a decent breakfast before she stirs. 

“Carmen?” Her voice is strained and weak and she bursts into a violent coughing fit after she speaks.

“Yes, mother, it’s me. I’ve made you breakfast.” I replace the sandwich tray on her nightstand with one with eggs and toast. “First though, I want you to try this berry.” I hold out one of the red berries gathered from the night before.

“You’re wasting delicacies on a dead woman,” she croaks, but doesn’t turn the berry away. She takes it with shaking hands and pops it into her mouth. “It’s sweet.”

“That’s good,” I say.

“Too sweet.”

I roll my eyes. “Eat your breakfast, Mother.” I grab the tray and nudge it towards her.

She grabs it without hesitation and begins eating the food with great purpose.

By the time we finish breakfast, she’s looking much better and all my worries fade away. She’s going to make it. 

I hold the other berry in front of my face and stare at it thoughtfully. Would the Willow King still try to kill me if I didn’t eat it? Wouldn’t eating it make things worse? Will I be able to survive other kinds of magic that come from the Forest if I eat it? Or would the creatures try harder to kill me? Maybe I could get Ablonic to stop them again. Not that I have any reason to go back to the Forest...

“If you won’t eat it, I will,” Mother rasps, reaching forward in an attempt to snatch the berry from my hand.

“No! It’s mine!” I jerk my hand back and pop the berry into my mouth. I chew it forcefully and swallow, sneering at my mother. I try to hold the face, but start laughing.

Mother looks at me startled. “What’s gotten into you, Carmen? You seem different.”

“Nothing. I’m fine,” I say. Although, I did expect to feel different after eating the berry. Some kind of profound feeling of magic or whatever.

“No… you’re definitely different,” she says. “You’ve been so since this morning. Like… happier than usual.”

I cross my arms. “Being happy isn’t weird or bad.”

She scoffs. “Sure. For a normal person. You just aren’t a very joyous person. Everything’s all “blah blah blah, everything’s annoying.”

“Hey…”

“It’s true. I don’t mean anything by it, honey,” she says, standing up from the bed. She grabs the dishes and brings them to the sink to wash them. “I just don’t see what could get you in such a good mood.”

I laugh disbelievingly. “What do you mean? Haven’t you noticed? You’re cured! You’re walking about like nothing happened.”

Mother pauses her work on the dishes and her eyes widen when she looks back at me. “But I thought I had the Fever!”

“You did! But I found a cure!” I say, beaming.

She stands in shock. “But that’s impossible!” She comes over and sits down beside me on the bed. “You went out of your way to find a cure? For me?”

“Of course, Mother,” I say quietly. “I even went over to Ms. Crackerfield since Dr. Martin wouldn’t come.”

Mother chuckles. “You went to the Cackler to try and save me?” She shakes her head. “I don’t know if I’d do that if my mother was dying.”

“You were never close to my grandmother,” I point out.

“It’s true,” she says with a sigh. “I just can’t believe you’d do so much for me. You could’ve just accepted I was going to die, you'd have all of this to yourself.”

“I love you, Mother. I could never do that.”

“I love you too, Carmen.” She pulls me into a hug and I feel tears pricking at my eyes. It’s a long warm hug, like one from my childhood. We stay there a while and for once since the Forest, my worries fade. Whatever happens now, with magic, with the Willow King, I know it’ll be alright. We’ll always be able to get through it together.