Authors: Iva Kenaz
*
With each and every step we get closer to the border between the forest and my village. He makes me walk ahead of him now, so that he can get a proper view of his prisoner, me, the living corpse. Only one thought possesses my mind right now – how to die. Or more precisely—how to kill myself before we reach home.
From time to time my naivety takes over again, suggesting that perhaps I don’t have to give up? Perhaps my father will put in a good word for me and the judges won’t convict me to torment and death. Perhaps my family has already forgiven me and will take me back home? But the dark truth always captures the foolish vision of a bright future. There is no hope. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. In the eyes of others, I'm a witch that needs to be exterminated or cleansed by suffering, as they like to call it. And in my eyes? Who am I?
I AM. What does it really mean to be? Is this body me? Is my mind me? Is my heart me? Why do I feel? Why the hell do I have to feel?!
A sudden frenzy overwhelms me as I look down and notice we are walking up a steep hill and beneath us lays a rocky ravine. If I jump now, I could severely injure myself, I could even die. But it also means taking Nathaniel down with me. My enemy. The villain who is already part of me, no matter how much I desire to shake him off. I can’t believe that I’m seriously weighing up whether or not to risk someone’s life along with mine. I will be cursed with these Cursed Lands if I do commit suicide. Suicide is a sin! Well, in the eyes of others. What about in my eyes? Does it still matter? Strange how I have lost all of my previous beliefs during these past few days. I turn to the man behind me as I walk. I can tell that he is suspicious of me, yet he tries to remain focused on his goal without further delay. He watches me with more intensity though and for a while he seems rather gentle in his expression, but then he puts up that typical frown of his and I face my lonely path again. His cold attitude hurts me; nothing has changed between us so far, so how else does he expect me to behave but insane? Although he is dear to me in some strange, subtle and repressed way, I decide that I will risk our lives and jump down.
The decision makes me walk with a precipitous verve until we finally reach the highest peak. Only a few more steps, I promise myself and then - one step into the air and it will all be gone—all the pain, the anxiety, the guilt, the shame, the helplessness, the misery and the horrifying possibilities of how they could end me. I can feel the ground beneath me sliding, as if it is fluid. I lose my sense of gravity and the mud makes it even easier for me.
I’m falling. Flying down. Everything is upside down. The sky is ground, the ground is sky. Rocks, mud, trees, Nathaniel’s face.
Blackout.
I awake. Down, beneath the rocky slide. I can’t be dead, my body aches too much. I move my limbs and comprehend that I'm not severely injured, just hurt by crashing into so many rocks and tree trunks along the way. I turn and notice Nathaniel. His face lies in the mud, blood gushing from his forehead, ground hungrily swallowing it as it flows. He is unconscious. His forehead has probably hit a stone, because he has a deep cut there, right below his old scar. He is alive and he could stay alive if I did the right thing. I clumsily move closer to him and reach for the dagger tight to his belt. I can hardly grasp it, for almost half of my hands are tight to my body. I finally manage to bring the dagger to my knees and squeeze it tight in between, cutting the rope bit by bit. It takes forever, but I finally free myself. As I lay the dagger on the ground, I observe how it sparks in the daylight and a devious idea sneaks into my mind. What if he awakes? Should I just kill him? I can sense someone next to me and tilt my head up in a fright. I see no one, but hear a raucous laughter. I recognise that laughter. It’s the one I fear and dread the most – Daniel!
Is he back? No, I can’t allow it. I can’t let him do this to me. I scream into the forest:
“Go away! Go back to hell or wherever you dwell! I won’t listen to this any longer!”
I decide not to even think about that disgusting man and focus on helping Nathaniel, instead of harming him even more. Oak, where is oak? I spot an oak tree just a few steps away and hurry towards it. My knees hurt and it makes me limp, but I quickly pick a few leaves, then search through Nathaniel’s sack and take out a wineskin. I hurry to clean his wound. It’s scary how much blood covers his face now as the water flushes it down. I rip a part of my skirt to use as a bandage and start beating the oak leaves with a sharp stone. I move in haste and soon a green paste is ready to be used. I place it onto the wound and carefully tie it with another piece of fabric ripped from my skirt. I suddenly hate myself for doing this. I can’t believe I have risked his life. He is a good man, he did not deserve this. I realise that the oak won’t be enough. He won’t survive this way. Something is missing...
Clover. I search the ground, no clover to be found. Moss! I need moss to stop the bleeding. No moss around. All that I can see is an army of oaks. Can I keep him alive only with their help? I feel the spontaneous urge to dip my finger into his blood and so I give in to it. Then it starts to feel as if my hands are not my own, for they start drawing shapes and symbols over his face. I recognise those shapes, but only on some very deep, long gone and buried level. I know though that they are the same shapes that I drew over my little brother’s forehead before he died. Some external force takes over completely and I become a puppet in the hands of an invisible, yet very real, puppet master. It feels safe and so I don’t resist it. My hands start moving faster and faster and then, an ecstatic loving feeling gushes from my heart and reaches his, at last.
*
I stayed by his side and waited for his fever to go down. He became overheated and in the shivers he softly mumbled something to me, but I could not understand a word. Sometimes he even half opened his eyes and leered at me. I was awake the whole night, worried that he might unexpectedly get better. At one point he moved his hand to touch mine, but I wasn’t sure if it was intentional or perhaps that he thought someone else was by his side. Still, it felt nice.
I was praying for him too, although I wasn’t sure to whom, it felt more like I sent a wish up to the heavens and hoped it would be heard.
Today he looks better. His cheeks are pink again, which certainly means that the inflammation has passed. It might have been a small cut after all, perhaps I was overly worried. He should return to consciousness very soon. How fortunate that I have really managed to save somebody’s life with the help of my grandmother’s heritage.
I take a good look at him before I leave, taking in every feature, every wrinkle, just to keep the image in my mind. How odd... I will certainly miss that serious face of his. I can’t afford to explore the strangely warm and affectionate feelings that I'm experiencing. He could awake very soon and so I set off. Some part of me lingers though, to say a proper goodbye. It kisses him on the lips. I had to feel it at least once, the touch of a man’s lips, even if it happened just in my mind. And as that incomprehensible part of me rises to merge with my body again, I notice that fortune is still on my side. My deer awaits me, half hidden behind the trees and for the first time, his mind aligns with mine and I hear:
“Use me to keep you safe. Use my horns to keep all ill away.
We were not born to be victims of the beast’s wicked game.
We were only born to fully wake and be aware.
Trust your soul, keep your head up high.
Worship your inner will to fight.”
I have been walking for a long time now. I passed a few more marshes and a small pond, where I could finally take a short cooling swim and rinse off all the dirt that has been building up, both on my body and soul. My mood has been changing these days. Sometimes I feel incredibly happy to be finally free and most of all alive, but then again sometimes I miss Nathaniel. The smarter part of me insists that I’m a fool for missing him, yet my heart skips a beat each time I think of him. He has possessed it, no matter how much I have tried to take it back. Another thing has been worrying me. I keep getting a hunch that something or someone is after me. Sometimes it’s just the minuscule sensation of tickling on my shoulders, sometimes a feeling that my mind is occupied by someone else’s. I fear that he follows me on each step, although he seemingly left. He is like a spider slowly wrapping its victim into a web. Daniel. He comes and goes, but never really leaves.
Strange how my captors stick with me, haunting me; although both in different ways. The two strange brothers that united on a journey to capture me. Take me home.
My deer is with me all the time and although he keeps his distance, I can tell, whenever I allow myself to dissolve in his deep knowing eyes that he cares about me. I wish I could finally find the cave and hopefully my grandmother, if she is still alive. I have sensed her presence so strongly since I entered these lands that it worries me, makes me think she must be dead. Yet I keep my hopes up. If she was still alive, everything would be so much easier. I could tell her how sorry I have been feeling for ever doubting her, I could learn from her and most importantly, it would assure me that it's possible to survive here on my own. Sometimes, mainly when I forget about Daniel, I feel that I’m opening up to the sounds of the forest again. It's truly amazing how nature is, how it gives birth to so many various forms of life and spirits that possess those forms. Whenever I feel weak, I cling to one of the ancient trees for support. Sometimes I even feel that the tree actually protects me from Daniel’s sly intrusions. I have become aware that the trees are actually the secret guardians of the forest. After all, most of the other living beings come and go, but the trees remain in the same spots for hundreds of years. And while the roots intertwine in a game of splendid webs, moving deeper and deeper underground, the branches keep climbing up, up into the heavens. How amazing trees are! Such graceful beings. Oftentimes I tend to imagine faces in their bark and I even catch myself speaking to them in my mind. The replies come in the form of thoughts, but God only knows whether the thoughts are mine or theirs. These days I can’t tell if my mind is just my own or if other beings may perhaps use me as a bearer of their ideas and wishes.
The other day I asked one of the oaks how come its leaves have such healing power and then a thought entered my mind:
“We oaks are very strong and you may share our great gift,
but remember, the kinder the will, the stronger you may take root within.”
How grateful I am for these autumn days and the full harvest. I have been given various gifts in this Cursed, or more appropriately, Sacred Land, particularly fruits, but also leaves, dandelions, nuts, acorns and mushrooms. And each time I receive a part of them, I have an even stronger feeling that there is some magical exchange of information happening between us. I’ve been sensing that everything around me is much wiser than I could ever be. I have begun to learn from every leaf, every plant and every stone; basically every living being that I stumble upon.
This morning I observed ants and their movement, or rather, their own little world. I wonder how they experience life and if it is easier or perhaps more complex than mine. I suppose I shall never feel alone here, if so many beings share these nooks with me. And although I’m still a stranger in the labyrinth of these amazing miniature and huge worlds, I’m also aware that I'm in some way inseparably part of it.
The days have been sunny so far and I pray to the heavens not to start crying, for then I will be forced to remember the rainy day with Nathaniel. And I will hate myself for missing him. Again. At night I sometimes become afraid. Mainly because of the creaky sounds and the amplified wolf howls descending from the mounts. Wolves, the creatures I fear the most. The beasts that hurt my brother and caused all this misery in the first place. Fortunately, I witnessed only the injury they had done, not the actual attack, but God knows that I'm aware of how cruel they are to their prey. I sincerely hope that they come only once frost and snow has covered these lowlands. By then I may have found the cave to hide in, or will have frozen to death. The darkness of the night also triggers my inner sight and I tend to draw fearful phantoms onto it. Daniel, my father, our local judge and bishop... all the faces I dread to ever meet again.
When I first entered these woods, I had no fear. I felt only a huge relief. I thought to myself that even being attacked by wolves would be better than to undergo the horrid torture methods that our cruel bishop schemes. Although dark forests tend to be the best hideouts for ousted individuals and ill minds, this one, contrary to its scary myth, may in fact be safe.
I used to think that people are to be feared far more than any spirit, but since Daniel’s presence sneaked back into my life, I have come to an understanding that it's far more chilling to be followed by a disembodied creature, because no one can protect me from it, no one but myself.
*
I'm woken by sun rays. They dance across my face and suddenly I experience an inexplicable joy. It's as though I’m looking forward to something, although rationally there is nothing much to look forward to. Then I spot my deer lying next to me, watching me recovering. He is closer than ever and with the sun casting an aura around his beautifully shaped horns, he resembles an expression from a holy painting. I can’t help but smile and marvel over the unearthly beauty that he transmits at this very moment. I extend my hand to touch him, but he rises before I can get close enough and moves a few steps away, waiting for me to join him. He remains untameable, untouchable, as usual.
I let the sun rays dance over me for a bit longer, for it feels so soothing on my cold skin. The nights are colder these days. That is perhaps why the deer lays so close to me tonight, we have been keeping each other warm. As I blindly stare at the sun, I can see it shining through my closed eyelids, expanding and withdrawing again and again. There is something sacred about the sun, I feel, yet I can’t tell what it is. Then the five, six and eight pointed stars pop up like thunderbolts in my inner vision. They appear and disappear over and over. I have the feeling that there is something sacred about those shapes, and then it feels as if my grandmother is speaking to me, I can recognise her voice in my inner hearing: