Forest Angel

Her eyes were closed. Was she sleeping? Leaves had fallen on her, and dew had settled upon her too. How long had she been here?

Bretton took a step closer to her. Her hair was golden brown, her skin very pale. She was skinny and looked frail. He gently touched her skin. She was extremely cold. Was she dead? She twitched. He pulled back his hand quickly. She fell back into her deep sleep. She amazed him. He wanted to wake her and see the colour of her eyes. He sat down, crossed legged, on the cold, wet ground. He sat there watching her until nightfall. He was hungry, and yet the girl hadn’t stirred. He dared himself to touch her again. He gently nudged her arm. Her eyes flickered open, a dark brown. He watched her. She looked confused, worried and scared. She turned to look at Bretton. Suddenly her mouth opened. A loud scream filled the silent forest, but Bretton heard nothing, but saw the fear in her eyes. It scared him and he ran. He ran back to the village, to the church and hid under one of the benches.

The priest came over, worried about him. He bent down so he could see Bretton.

‘What happened child?’ he asked, in a smooth, calm voice. Bretton said nothing. The priest asked again, but still Bretton said nothing. He never said anything, but made grunts and strange noises. The locals whipped him for it. He was the local mad boy.

Meanwhile, the girl had stopped her screaming, and stood in the quiet forest. She was still scared. She didn’t know where she was, who she was or how she got here. She kept remembering the dreams. Were they real or just visions? She hugged her body tightly in the cold night air. She remembered the smell of this place, and started remembering bits of the forest its self. She had walked here before, many years ago.

The girl took a step forward, but came crashing to the ground. She had forgotten how to walk. She opened her mouth. It was dry and sore.

‘Help me,’ she managed to croak out in a whisper. She hung her head, ashamed of being so weak.

The sun had never looked so warm to Bretton. He had watched many sunrises and this was by far the best. The sun looked so big and close. If he stretched his arm far enough, maybe he could touch it. The sun reminded him of the girl. He remembered the fear in her face and his head fell into his hands. He wept. He had wanted to help her, not to scare her. Everyone was so afraid of him. Why? Why did they whip him so? Why did they open and close their mouths like fish? Why did he feel so alone?

The ground was wet and leaves stuck to her feet. She clung to the trees tightly. Her feet numb and uncontrollable. She was walking a little, but she had to hold to the trees for support. Her feet refused to go flat, but instead they curled or went on their sides so she stepped on her ankle. It was frustrating and tears had come down from her eyes. It was beginning to get light. The trees didn’t look so scary now in the light. She kept trying to speak but her throat was so dry and she was starving.
The forest surrounding her was becoming alive. Squirrels and rabbits ran past her. The birds began to sing as she walked by.
At last she seemed to reach a village. It was very small, just a few houses and a very large church. It was near a beach and beyond it there were hills. Lambs played in the fields and the distant sounds of hens clucking came from the village. She stumbled out of the forest and into a field. She whimpered and began to cry. She wished she could walk. A faint cry came from a field. She glanced over and saw a farmer running towards her. Her fears flooded back. She gripped the grass in her fists and pulled her self towards the village, but the farmer was running and she had no energy left. The farmer approached her.

‘Lass?’ he asked. She whimpered. She felt hands picking her up and carrying her to the village. Was Lass her name?

She heard the mumbled voices of the villagers, whispering and muttering. A loud, strong voice pounded over them, filtering them to silence. She couldn’t open her eyes because the sun was directly above her and in her eyes. Her neck was stiff, but she managed to turn it just enough to see the crowd surrounding her. She looked at each of their faces, full of wonder and fear. Then she saw a familiar face in the crowd. A young man’s face, not full of fear or mystery, but of sorrow and hope. ‘Where did she recognise this face? Was it him from the forest?’ She wondered to herself.

Loud voices floated up to the hill. Bretton looked over his shoulder and saw a crowd surrounding something, but he couldn’t see what. He ran down the hill, towards the crowds, but stopped just behind them. They didn’t like him. They made their fish faces again, opening and shutting their mouths. He store at them. Then he saw her. The girl from the forest. She turned her head and looked at the crowds. She looked directly at him. ‘Did she remember me?’ he wondered, ‘She was still half asleep when she saw me, and I ran away straight away,’

He stood silently against one of the houses and looked at her. He glanced at some of the crowd. They were scared of this mysterious girl, but also wondered about her and where she came from. Bretton knew where she came from. She was a gift from God to him, an Angel sent from the Almighty. All he had to do was claim her.