Into the Unknown

     “This way, daughter. Come, follow me,” a voice whispered in the breeze. Zinnia spun to face the forbidden forest.

     “You heard that, right?” Zinnia glanced around for her sister, Octa, but the girl had scampered out of earshot. She looked back toward the forest, pulling her shawl tight around her to ward off the morning chill, then nodded at a passing cow. “You did, right?”

     The cow gave a non-commital moo and continued plodding forward into the pasture. 

     Zinnia stared into the pre-dawn gloom. The shadows shifted. Zinnia stared harder. There! A darkness moved through the trees. Ancient superstition warned that unknown shadows brought only ill tidings, especially in darkness. Yet, the longer she looked, the more certain she became that the shadow held no ill intentions.

     “Come on, Zinnie,” Octa called.

     Zinnia backed away from the forest. Now was not the time to go exploring. But after the sun had risen…A smile curved her lips. Zinnia secured the pasture gate and sprinted after her sister.

     A rich, savory aroma filled her nose as she entered the cabin. Mama bent over a porridge pot suspended in the harth, adding a last pinch of seasoning. Octa flitted about, setting the table and chattering non-stop about her plans for the day.

     “—and then Zinnie almost walked straight into the forest,” Octa reported happily.

Mama spun, hands on her hips, and pinned Zinnia with a hard stare. “What does Octa mean, you almost walked into the forest?”

     Zinnia shot Octa a glare, then faced Mama. “She’s exaggerating, Mama. I wasn’t anywhere near the forest.” At least not yet.

     Mama gave her a long appraising look. “Good. Nothin’ but death awaits those who enter that forest. Promise me, you’ll stay well clear of it.” Mama jabbed her wooden spoon at each of them, “Both of you.”

     “Of course, Mama,” Octa chirped, setting steaming bowls of porridge on the table.

Zinnia slid into her chair.

     “Your word, Zinnia,” Mama pressed.

     Octa and her big mouth. To break one’s word ranked amongst one of the worst infractions a person could commit. At least, according to Mama.

     “I thought I heard something,” Zinnia tried, “So, I stopped to look. That was all. I was across the field and perfectly safe.” 

     “Evil things lurk in those woods,” Mama whispered, “Things it’s best not to speak about.”

     “Like what?” Octa turned bright, excited eyes toward Mama. “Bears? Wolves? Demons?”

     “Did I not just say, it’s best not to speak of such things?” Mama glared at Octa. Zinnia shoveled in a bite of breakfast. One couldn’t lie if one didn’t speak.

     Zinnia doubted Mama knew anything about what lay within the woods. The townfolk refused to speak about what might be out there, and all the maps Zinnia had seen simply labeled the area as The Black Forest. No one knew what lay within its boundaries, and everyone seemed too scared to find out.

     “Do you think it will snow today?” Zinnia asked in between bites.

     Mama gave her look, telling Zinnia she’d noted the change of topic, but she allowed the switch. 

     “I hope so, I want to make snow angels!” Octa exclaimed. The little girl dominated the conversation, describing her various plans for the snowy weather. 

     Zinnia finished the last of her breakfast and quickly cleared her dish. She snuck a roll from last night’s dinner and an apple into her pocket and sprinted out the door, a call that she’d be out watching over the herd, on her lips. The cows grazed at the far end of the pasture and she raced toward them as the first rays of dawn crept across the field.

     She paused at the forest’s edge. Her heart thundered in her ears and her body trembled, but it wasn’t fear that held her back. When she stepped into the forest, she’d finally be answering the call. Such a momentous event warranted a moment of appreciation. She smiled, then put one foot in front of the other, disappearing into the forest’s shadowy depths. The vibrant greens and browns shown around her in a variety and brightness far outstripping anything she’d see elsewhere. 

     “Come, follow me,” the wind whispered as it brushed against her cheek.

     “I’m here,” she answered, hunting for the source of the voice.

     “This way,” the wind responded, blowing loose whisps of Zinnia’s hair this way then that. She dashed off, following the breeze. 

     She paused in the middle of a small clearing. Her heart raced and her legs ached. “Show yourself,” Zinnia commanded in between pants. “Who are you?”

     “I’m the one who calls you,” whispered the breeze. 

     “Show yourself. I’m not afraid.” Zinnia lifted her chin.

     A shadow gathered at the base of a wide tree and drifted forward. It had no defined shape…no, rather, as it drew near, it gained a solidity. Limbs emerged from its shapeless dark, morphing into a man, clothed in all black. A cape trailed from his shoulders, more than shadow, but not quite solid material.

     She should be afraid. Yet, looking into his dark eyes, she found only kindness and warmth.

     “Why did you call to me?” Zinnia couldn’t stop the question from escaping.

     He smiled, and warmth spread through her.

     “I wish for your assistance.”

     The epic adventures describing the heroes of old flitted through her mind. A hero called to save the day. That could be her. But… her hand moved to her pocket with her meager supplies and she glanced up at the sun poised overhead. She was hardly equipped for any grand adventure, and if truth be told, she needed to turn back if she wanted to return home before nightfall. 

     The stranger extended his hand in invitation. Zinnia looked at it. Every fiber in her being begged her to accept. But could she leave everything she’d ever known for… He’d said he wanted help, and no doubt accepting his invitation would be an adventure. But to where and why? He hadn’t answered those questions.

     “Why me?” For a moment, she worried she’d offended him with her question. But she’d spent all her life on the farm, she boasted no special skills. Why would he choose her?

     He smiled again. “Because you heard my call and are willing.”

     “Where will we go? What do you need help with? I’m not exactly—”

     He chuckled, “Patience, daughter. Trust I know where we’re headed and what we will face. You’ll be ready when we reach our destination. Now, shall we be off?” He moved toward the trees, becoming once again a shadow.

     She stood for another moment, bathed in the warm rays of the sun. She glanced back the way she’d come, toward home. Toward everything she knew.

     She looked toward the shadow. It waited for her. She knew it wouldn’t leave her to wander alone through the woods, even if she chose to turn back.

     Her mother said people lose their lives in the forest, and he’d made no promises regarding her safety. But to be a part of the great adventure, wasn’t that worth the cost of not knowing what came next?

     She took a deep breath. “Lead on,” she answered and followed the shadow deeper into the unknown.