A Doomed Forest

A few hours had passed when they reached the forest border, sinking between the twisted trees. Their trunks had grown in directions that seemed to have been ordered by a prankster imp. An imp who probably didn’t have much to do along his days. Henox didn’t like these kind of beings, those who frolicked left and right. Naturally, all imps weren’t like this. There were those who cultivated their knowledge, those who never stopped digging all day long down the mines, forging the noblest metals. Because, indeed, the knockers – like other dwarfs – were part of the huge and colourful imps’ family.

     Purples leaves of flabby branches hanging above the sorcerer’s head like roots began to glow when his goat’s horns brushed against them.

“How are we going to find elves?”

     The sorcerer took a glance at Gretel.

“It’s simple. They are the ones who are going to find us.”

“Ohhooh!”

     Well, since there was no point in looking for them in order to find them, she wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to enjoy the scenery.

     The day was only beginning to fade, so that she could still distinguish the trees and, growing against the bark of some of them, bunches of crystals. As they passed near one of them, Gretel leant in closer to observe the minerals. They were embedded in the trunk, sap seeming to circulate inside. A smile illuminated her face when she took sight of her distorted reflection upon the crystals’ facets.

     Henox, on the other side, didn’t pay so much attention to his surroundings. He merely glanced at Gretel occasionally to make sure she was still there. It must be said, she was so light that if she were to fall, he might as well not even notice it.

     The sorcerer’s footsteps guided them to a clearing. Raising his eyes, Henox beheld the sky taking orangey hues.

“It won’t be long before the night falls.”

“Ahh! Look at these pretty berries! Can you get closer?”

     Indeed, bushes were growing a few steps from here, so the sorcerer approached them. Once he knelt down, the little fairy picked one of the ripest berries, delighting in it without delay. Then she grabbed a second one and pulled on it. A first time. A second one. It was well hooked. Hence pulling with all her strength, she managed to detach the berry, making the nearby leaves tremble. Unbalanced, Gretel fell backwards.

“W-Waah!”

     She crashed against Henox’s shoulder while the trembling of these few leaves that Gretel had caused reverberated on those around instead of dissipating. And in a blink of an eye, dozens of shapes seemed to come off the bushes, flapping their wings. Birds flew out of the bushes, their wings, having leaves instead of feathers.

“So many birds!” Gretel exclaimed with a look of wonder.

‘These are called bushers.”

     Straightening, Gretel followed them with her eyes. For a moment, she rose a few millimetres into the air. She would love to be able to flutter between them. Though she instantly lost her balance and fell back. Fatally. It was impossible to fly with a single wing.

     Her expression sank, the little fairy half-closing her eyes. Strange. This feeling that weighed on her… She had an inkling of déjà vu. However, the little time she had spent since her birth had been anything but weighing. But then…

     Small bells sounds.

“Hmm?”

     Henox’s irises slid to the corners of his eyes, catching Gretel’s attention as he made a move to turn around.

“What is this?” She blinked in surprise.

     Crystal clear sounds resonated again, this time echoing around them, permeating the trees. They had gotten closer. They seemed to be going around them, until…

     In barely a split second, they had appeared at the other side of the clearing.

     Henox immediately turned his gaze before him so he could detail the silhouettes of two young men with accentuated features. Both had a long hair of the colour of the moonlight, a pale complexion, simple clothes made of fine fabric tinted with the green of apples. Attached to their wrists and their ankles, were bracelets plaited with little bells.

     Before even considering the possibility to speak, the one among them with a hard look, an ice-blue one, began walking steadily towards Henox.

     The latter did not take his eyes off of him, gauging his intentions. If he intended to attack him, he would be delighted to respond to the invitation.

     But the other young man hadn’t moved, he observed Henox with a keen eye. When suddenly he widened his eyes, his lips parting.

“Almes, wait.” He objected with a delicate, though authoritative tone.

“What?” Almes made a face, turning around, stopped in his tracks.

     The sharp move lifted a few colourless strands of hair, unveiling further one of his pointy ears.

     The second young man, whose eyes were of an aventurine tint, joined his comrade to place a hand against his shoulder.

“Didn’t you notice his odour?” He added in a lower voice while glancing at the sorcerer.

     Raising his eyebrows, Almes turned his head towards Henox. He promptly seemed more wary.

     On the other hand, Gretel couldn’t conceal her excitement any longer.

“Elves! You were right, sir Henox! They've found us without us looking for them. It’s too bad this doesn’t also work with cakes.”

     Taking on a greedy look, she closed her eyes for a short while.

     The sorcerer gave her a little smile before stepping forward in the two elves’ direction. He almost lost sight of their aim.

“Hello.”

“Don’t make any step closer!” Almes warned.

“Is there a problem?” The sorcerer calmly questioned while standing still. “I merely wanted to greet you. We were hoping to meet people of your kind.”

“Excuse our harshness. Though, who are you?” The elf with the aventurine eyes asked.

“My name is Henox. I am but a sorcerer.”

“And I am Gretel!” The little fairy exclaimed enthusiastically, raising her arms on both sides.

     The passion she showed jarred so openly with the tension in the air that she astonished the two elves. Soon, the more diplomatic one gave her a caring smile.

“See that. A young and beautiful fairy. What a peculiar pair.”

     He gave Almes a knowing look, nodding briefly before returning his attention to the travellers. The bells jingled as they approached step by step.

“Fyor is my name. And here is Almes.”

     Henox nodded. Though, well… A perspicacity degree wasn’t required to guess that a little fairy strolling through the forest accompanied by a sorcerer wearing a goat skin formed a peculiar pair. Either way.

“You said you were looking for us. Could we know the reason behind it?”

     His comrade couldn’t restrain it any longer, clicking his tongue.

“It was well worth holding me back. They would have answered all these questions by now if you had let me.”

“Your way of asking questions is not quite conventional.” Fyor replied casting him a smile, his eyes closed.

“I can’t see where the problem is in linking business with pleasure.”

     As he crossed his arms and dared Fyor to argue, a small voice slipped out.

“Uhh, hum…”

     Both elves focused again on Gretel and Henox soon followed up.

“It happens that we are looking for a way to repair Gretel’s wing.”

     Meanwhile, the latter turned around to show them the stump of her torn wing.

“Do you know how to mend it?”

     Leaning forward to take a better glance at it, Fyor took a compassionate expression. After all, fairies’ wings were what they held as their most precious treasure. To see her lacking it was a harsh vision.

“Poor thing… Deprived of her liberty. Alas, I don’t know of any way to restore it. I am sorry.”

“I see. It was predictable that this wouldn’t be that easy.

“It doesn’t matter.” Gretel reassured, turning to Fyor. We still have time to search. And! With sir Henox I am still able to travel. So, I am happy!”

“To travel? Are you not going to join your folk?” Fyor asked, seemingly surprised.

“No. I want to take advantage of the time I have left to travel the world.”

     But among the people present, there was one who seemed irritated by such words. Tapping his fingers against his forearm in annoyance, Almes raised his chin.

“There’s clearly nothing allowing you to take this little joyful tone. Do you truly realise what it means, the end of the world?”

“Uhh, I…”

“It’s not a game.” He interrupted, raising his voice.

     As he outstretched an arm to refer to their surroundings, it frightened Gretel who hid under Henox’s cape.

“All these trees, the animals living here, this forest and all the rest. All is destined to disappear. To die.”

“Almes…”

“All you have before your eyes is agonising.” He concluded before turning towards Fyor. “And you, don’t tell me it leaves you insensitive.”

     The latter sighed.

“Forgive him. He’s on the edge. Since the end has been announced, many things had changed for Sluaghs.”

     Gretel ventured a glance before shyly emerging her head.

“The Sluaghs?”