Chapter 3: Woodland Meetings

Clare is speaking:

I’ve told about wanting to die, and being prevented. I’ve told about being drawn in to a sort of family, and magically delivered from the power of drugs. That should have been enough to transform my existence. Indeed, in some ways it was plenty enough. But a few weeks after leaving hospital, I had a couple of days off from the park cafe (which opens every day, of course) and Kat was to take me to meet some other people. She was a little vague about them, but it involved travelling out to Padley Gorge, and the woodland where I tried to kill myself.

Kat’s daughter was in school, but we took her toddler son, Diamuid, with us so her husband could work in peace. Kat parked her little city car on the road next to the gate into the top of the Gorge, and we clambered down the stone stairs, and into the woodland, taking turns to carry Diamuid; Kat had a sling for the purpose, but the little boy has an ... aura, I suppose, of serenity. He was happy to cuddle with me, and I enjoyed his cuddle immensely. A few yards into the woodland, another gate in a stone wall admitted us to the woodland proper, and we carried on down hill. I hadn’t really noticed much the first time I’d been there, but I looked around we walked, soaking up the sense of age, and something more.

Kat pointed to a small oak tree. I know nothing about trees, really. In fact, I didn’t even know it was an oak. “Give that tree a hug,” she said, taking Diamuid from me and setting him on his feet on the ground.

I suppose the tree had a trunk perhaps a foot in diameter, with the first branches just above my head. I did as I was told. I found that the tree felt sort of warm, and – it’s hard to explain – but I felt almost like when Diamuid hugged me. I just relaxed against it.

“Hello!”

A young man appeared next to me. I’d had my eyes closed, so can’t say any more than that.

I released the tree and looked at him. “Hello,” I responded, “my name is Clare. I was just hugging this tree.”

“Call me Sturdy,” he smiled. “Do you like my tree?”

“It’s ... very calming,” I told him. “Friendly.”

He smiled warmly and turned to Kat, and bowed. “My Lady! Welcome back to the Wood. And you bring Master Diamuid.”

The little boy gurgled happily and held out his arms to Sturdy, who picked him up.

“Were you going to call on Mother Clio and Father Quercus?” Sturdy asked Kat as the little boy snuggled into his neck.

“We are,” Kat acknowledged. “Shall you keep us company?”

“Certainly,” Sturdy agreed with a chuckle. “You bring another pretty young lady to see us. I’m happy to extend our time together.”

Pretty? Me? He wants to spend time with me? And Kat and Diamuid, of course, but with me?

Kat chuckled too. “Clare, Sturdy is quite safe. Actually, everyone you will meet today is safe, I think.”

Sturdy frowned. “Actually, we have had one or two ... incidents,” he said. “Father Quercus will explain, I expect. Certainly, you are quite safe with all the Woodland Folk.” He turned, and walked down hill, still carrying Diamuid.

I glanced at Kat, who shrugged, and we followed him downhill. “Actually,” Kat said, carefully, “I meant to say that the Woodland Folk,” she hesitated, but went on, “I’d better not say any more until you’ve met the Elders of the Wood.”

I glanced at Kat. I’m sure my expression showed my confusion, but she kept a neutral face which told me little. We came at last to a more open space, with two apparently old oak trees. She walked up to one of them, laid a hand on the trunk, and spoke quietly.

Even now, it’s hard to believe and at the time, I blinked and shook my head. The tree was gone, and in its place an old but hale man.

Kat turned and beckoned to me. “Clare, meet Father Quercus.”

He held out a hand to me, but I hesitated before taking it. “Well met, young lady,” he smiled. “You’re looking better than the last time I saw you.”

Another voice behind me, a woman. “Who have we here?”

I turned without letting go of ... his ... hand. I saw an old woman. Old, but still beautiful, and with a sort of ... majesty?

“Mother Clio!” Kat’s voice penetrated my stasis. “I’ve brought Clare here to meet you.”

“Quercus! Are you going to let this young lady go?”

He chuckled. “Why? I think I like holding her hand. Besides, I think she’s holding mine?”

I released my grip, and he did also, so our hands fell apart. “That’s better, Quercus. Now, Clare, I think you should come with me. I’m sure you need some answers.”

Answers? Yes. I’d like some answers. I glanced at Kat, who smiled and nodded. “Okay.” I followed the old woman ... Mother Clio ... along a path which led down to the stream. There, she pointed to a large boulder on the edge of the water.

“If you sit on that and take your shoes off, you could dangle your feet in the water. I think you’ll enjoy that.”

So I did as I was told, placed trainers and socks on the ground next to the boulder. Mother Clio – for some reason I wasn’t comfortable in calling her just ‘Clio’ – lowered herself to the ground next to me. Her legs, too, reached into the water.

“You’re right,” I said. “It’s cool. Lovely. I can feel the water moving over my feet.”

“I’ll get to that later,” she said. “Firstly, you’re on the edge of a different world. A world of which most humans are not aware. We’ve been here at least as long as humans, if not longer, and in the past humans knew about us and respected us. They built little shrines and left gifts. Nothing we really needed, you understand, but some creatures appreciated them.”

“You seem to be saying,” I hesitated, “that you... aren’t human?”

“Exactly. I am a tree-spirit, a hamadryad. Some of the time I live as a tree, at others, I appear to be human. But I live much longer than any human, like trees do. I am an Oak hamadryad, Quercus Petraea. My partner and I are the elders here. There are also dryads among us, like Sturdy. Dryads live with a tree. I am a tree. You mentioned feeling the water on your feet. That was, in fact, not just the water.” She took and held my hand, and spoke. “Phoebe!”

A figure appeared, naked, small, evidently female, with spiky, electric blue hair, and skin mottled in various subtle shades of brown and green. Standing with water almost up to her knees, she bowed to my companion. “Mother Clio! You called?”

“I did, Phoebe. I wanted to introduce you to Clare.”

“Hello, Clare! You have pretty feet.”

“I do?”

“You do. I stroke a lot of feet. It’s a part of my reason for being. If you like, I will bathe you all over. I like doing that. Of course, I prefer boys. I really have fun with boys.” She waved, and disappeared into the water.

“There you are,” Clio said with a smile in her voice. “You’ve met the naiad of the stream. She’s flighty, but has a good heart. Actually, she’s what a human would call randy, I think. Do you have any more questions? This must have come as quite a shock?”

“It would have come as a bigger shock but for Kat. She made me realise that there’s more to this world than I realised. But you are secret?”

“We are. If we were known about, we’d be overwhelmed and possibly attacked. We had to hide when the – sorry to say – Christian Church rejected the old religions. As it is, our Friends know to keep us secret, and the few who try to publicise us, well, they’re ignored as weirdos. Clare, we would like for you to be a Friend. You would have a place where you are accepted without reservation, a place of calm and peace where you can be loved and welcomed. If you wish this, and are willing to keep us secret, you will become a Friend of the Wood.”

“It sounds wonderful. Almost too good to be true.”

“Then there are two more you need to meet. Come with me again.”

Without thinking, I left my footwear and followed Clio barefoot as she led the way to a dell near her clearing. A casual visitor wouldn’t know it was there. Clio ushered me in and I saw a stone seat, and beside it a couple lounged on the mossy floor. The woman appeared very slim, and I thought she would be tall for a woman when standing. Dressed in green, she had long dark hair, parted by pointed ears. Next to her, a taller man, who had the hilts of a sword showing over his shoulder. He was holding the hands of a ginger-haired girl-child helping her to stand.

“Princess,” Mother Clio announced, “I bring Clare to meet you, who wishes to become a Friend of the Wood.”

The woman rose gracefully to her feet and, yes, she was taller than me. Clio encouraged me to approach. Looking at her, something tickled in the back of my head. An image from somewhere, maybe a book. Perhaps a film. “You’re ... are you ... an elf?”

She actually laughed. Such a pretty laugh. “It’s the ears that give it away, isn’t it?” She bent down in front of me. “Feel! They’re real.”

My hand stretched out without my conscious volition and touched the tip of a pointed ear. No doubt it was real, soft and warm too. You may believe that my head was behind what was happening, and it took several seconds to catch up. I snatched my hand back and fell to my knees.

Another laugh. “No, no! Stand, Clare, stand.”

Reluctantly I obeyed and forced my eyes to meet hers. I didn’t recognise what I saw there.

“Oliver,” she spoke again without turning her head. “What do you think?”

“My love, you are the one with perception and judgement. I can only say I think she needs us.” His voice was a warm baritone, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from hers to look at him.

“Mother Clio, you could have named her Friend without consulting me,” she said, holding my eyes.

“Yes, Princess, I suppose we could. However, you were here.”

But she placed a hand on each side of my head, leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Clare, I name you Friend. Welcome to the Wood. I am Princess Nyulnos, but Friends may address me as Aster. My companion is my Consort, Oliver, called Praesul, and he is holding our daughter Aurinea.”

My eyes were released and I could swear I felt the click of that release. “Thank you, Highness. I mean, thank you, Aster.”

“Better. Go now and learn about the Wood.”

I took that as a dismissal, and backed away until she turned and sat again. The man was standing still, holding the little one’s hand. Our eyes met and he winked at me. Winked? Mother Clio touched my arm, and we left.