The Oldest Oak

I don't like these woods," Dafydd muttered. They had a presence that unnerved him. It wasn't the darkness; it wasn't the smell of them nor was it the unidentifiable shufflings, rustlings and creakings. It was something more and his instinct was twitching spasmodically in response and transmitting its vibrations to his gut. The air felt thicker and more hesitant to part and whilst his movement was unhindered, he felt enclosed on all sides.

Morwenna was also alert to the fact that this was no pleasant woodland walk. She had never felt like this under canopy before. It was verdant; plush with moss and layered with leafy protusions and thick roughened branches so that it felt like the chinks of light were battling for their space. Many times she had foraged in the woods close to her home for berries, and mushrooms, and nuts. The overwhelming feeling that she had there, seeking and searching for sustenance was one of airiness and light, the leaves a shelter and shield.

But there was more than just foliage here. There was life, trembling and lurking. It was like being watched by gods from afar, as curiosities, and knowing that the opportunity to intervene was, as gods, for the taking, should they wish it.

Her smallness and insignificance felt palpable.

She knew the far reaching prevalence of the gods. She had defied them once. Involuntarily, she shivered. Now was not a time for dwelling on transgressions she had made against otherworldly powers.

Now, her focus was on staying safe within the woods. Her senses were watchful. There was nothing benign here and yet, nothing intent on harm either. Indifference though could be equally as threatening.

"Just be alert, cariad," Morwenna said, looking around her, eyeing the shadows.

Dafydd turned towards his mother, whispering: "It's like we're being watched."

Morwenna nodded and Dafydd was surprised as she was never usually one for uneasiness, shrugging off feelings as mere fancies over which she had no control. She was a pragmatist, had to be but with the fleeing from her village and all that she had ever known, she was constantly being reminded that she did not know as much as she thought.

"Where is he taking us?" Dafydd asked, nodding his head towards Merlin, their rescuer, who had pulled them from a cave to safety after their escape from people who would harm them. He was strolling up ahead, seemingly gliding over the forest floor, of tree roots, hollow branches and leaf mould, his movements smooth and unhindered.

"I don't know, Dafydd. I don't know." Morwenna wanted to say somewhere safe but Merlin's presence, whilst being welcome, did not mean security. There would be a reason he had come for them. She had heard that he had the means to discern all through some magical object; if this were true, she did not doubt that he would have scried and assessed before rushing to their aid.

She focused on where she placed her feet. Despite the fact that she knew it was day, the thickness of the canopy created shadow and every step had to be measured. Tree roots tangled and ridged the pathway, leaving little space for a human foot to tread. Morwenna was constantly having to tiptoe and contort to find purchase. Dafydd was more spry; with his smaller feet and his youth, he was unhappy but managing more efficiently than her.

Up ahead, Merlin was concentrating although showing no sign of it. He did not like these woods and they did not like him but they had a begrudging respect for each other. He was currently conversing, although Morwenna and Dafydd would not have seen his lips move.

"Why are you here, Merlin? What do you want with us?"

It was the Oldest Oak that spoke with him. Merlin was a man of many practices, not all of them known to others. In that mystery, lay the mystery: and that was where he liked it kept. He was powerful but even he knew that he was merely one man and in the face of many intent on doing him harm, his powers would only stretch so far. And so, he kept his unnatural gifts to himself, one of them being that he could converse with the natural world. And manipulate it and the things in it if need be. That is why the Oldest Oak was wary.

Morwenna sensed the whispering of the forest but nothing more. Ripples in the light filtering from a sun unseen showed movement in the branches and leaves and something told her that the ash and the elm and the birch were curious about her. How she knew this, she could not say, but she was as certain of it, as she was the bones in her body.