The months of travelling, the anguish and the terrible loss; it had brought me here. An island uncharted by any map, surrounded by the Sea of Frost. Stepping on to the cold, sandy shore as the water lapped the edges felt like I was no longer in the realm of the living. The trees, tightly pressed together and looming high above me looked like gaunt, angled guardians, waving in the breeze with branches like arms outstretched, beckoning. Or warning. I stepped forward, feet making lumpy footprints in the damp sand. The wind picked up, perhaps another warning. But I could not stop now, not when I was so close. Moonlight trickled down from a full face, but it seemed to be swallowed up by the trees, the rocks, the beach. Unnatural darkness clung to this island like a fog.
I reached the treeline and the wind whispered unintelligible words in my ear. The trees really were tightly compacted; I wouldn’t be able to press forward without brushing up against a thin trunk all the way through. But I walked in nonetheless; trees were the least of my concern. I tried lighting my torch, but the wick was damp from my trip over the sea. I would have to be guided by my vision alone, made much easier by the hunter’s amulet. I walked for what seemed like hours and was grateful for the lack of flame. The denizens of this forest were plentiful, but seemed to know where I was looking, and flitted out of sight the moment I turned to look at them. The fire from my torch would no doubt have agitated them.
Eventually I reached a small clearing in the forest where I could feel the wind again. The clearing led to a rickety wooden bridge that spanned a deep canyon. I approached slowly, and the bridge swayed silently in the breeze. Swallowing a growing knot of fear, I placed one foot on the wooden boards, and it creaked. In the silence of the forest, the creak was loud. I cringed but continued to cross, placing one foot after the other and making slow but undeniable progress. When I was halfway across the wind picked up, as if it was trying to throw me off. The bridge swayed more and I gripped the frayed handrails with whitened knuckles. But I continued walking; slowly but surely the creaking boards allowed me to cross without trouble and soon I was safely on the other side. Behind me, the bridge was still, the wind no longer rocking it wildly. I sighed and pressed on into the forest, trees welcoming me into their skeletal arms.
I don’t know how much longer I wandered in that forest. It felt like time was swallowed up by the trees just as easily as I was. It was still night, and the moon was still high in the sky when the trees finally relinquished me from their grasp, and I stumbled out onto a huge grass meadow, its colour an eerie silvery white by the light of the moon.
