Page 36 of Into the Heartless Wood
His jaw goes tight. “I don’t know that.”
I hold out a hand to him.
It is hard
to keep
from trembling.
I say: “Come with me.”
If he denies me
I think I will splinter apart.
He watches me as he gives me his hand.
I fold my fingers over his.
Rough bark
against smooth skin.
He is fragile and
it frightens me.
I do not want to scratch him.
So I let go.
I step into the wood. I command the trees to make way for us.
They obey.
He walks beside me in the forest dark. He stumbles over trailing roots.
I bring him to a clearing, not far away:
a little hill, open to the sky,
to the stars.
It will make him feel easier, perhaps.
A window to his world,
encircled within mine.
I lead him to the top of the hill. I sink onto cool grass.
He sits, folding up his long legs. He stares at me across the air that divides us.
He says: “What are you?”
I say: “You know what I am. You saw me for what I am.”
Darkness comes into his face.
