The Tears of Trees

The small child strolled along the woods, studying the trees. Most trees were boring. But not here. Here the trees were most interesting indeed. The trees here were made from dead people.

She paused before a twisted sapling, its shape vaguely reminiscent of a woman crying out in pain, branches bent upwards as if to signify the once-living person grabbing their head in agony. If she squinted at it, the tree almost looked like a real person. Almost. But she knew it was really a trapped spirit, twisted in form and trapped here, never having found its way to the other side.

The girl considered the tree, tilting her head to the side, studying it with unblinking black eyes. Her porcelain features were pale like the snow that blanketed the ground, bathing the forest of the dead in white. Dripping icicles hung from the bark of the trees, making it seem like the souls trapped within were crying.

These trees were most interesting indeed.

Farrow

"Oh, uh, please go away, please let me go." Farrow stumbled into a small clearing, shaking her ankle that was currently held fast but a thick, green-mottled vine. Farrow dribbled a bit of water from her skein down onto the sentient plant, the plopping of the drops on the skin loud in the eerie silence. With a nearly delighted wriggle, the vine unwound itself from Farrow's leg and slithered back into the Wildwood proper.

"Thank you!" Farrow called quietly, her voice almost lilting sing-song, and waved to the vine as it slinked back into the darkness. Turning, Farrow found herself in a small grove of red-barked saplings, all gnarled into agonized, human forms.

Farrow's mother had told a great number of stories about the Greatwood, and though she barely lingered on the ancient Fae burial site, as Farrow knelt in front of the closest sapling, she knew, on no uncertain terms, that she had been led to Ludo's wood.

When in doubt, use nettles

Trinket heard the approaching footsteps crunching in the snow. Someone had arrived. A new playmate, perhaps?

She turned and headed towards the sounds. It didn't take long for her to find the girl. Trinket stopped a short distance away, head tilted to the side, studying the girl. Curious. She idly wondered what the girl was doing out here. Perhaps they could play a game.

Trinket stepped closer, pulling her doll up and holding it against her chest. The doll's head swiveled around, staring at the girl with dark glassy eyes, one eye stained red with an old, dried bloodstain. Trinket stared at the girl as well, unblinking, unmoving. She stood in silence for a long while.

Finally, her small voice broke the silence. "Do you want to play a game?" she asked.

Farrow

Sudden noises were not Farrow's friend, what with her past and all. Being ambushed by unfriendly neighbors was a reality she had lived wit, but it left her jumpy in her adulthood.

To say the least, Farrow dropped from her knees to her butt when she flinched at the new voice as it rang unexpectedly in the quiet. Swinging her head up, Farrow noticed a small child, sad in countenance, and holding onto a doll, though a flicker in the child's eyes belied less true sadness and more mischief and curiosity.

"Oh uh, hello." Farrow regarded the child a little chill shuddering down her spine, but, in some ways, the child reminded Farrow of herself as a small child. Alone and curious about the world, and with seeming no outlet for her mischievous streak. "I'm Farrow, and if you tell me your name, we can see about that game." Farrow tried a friendly smile, but she was only just learning how to interact with people. She hoped it was inviting and not as awkward as it felt.

When in doubt, use nettles

"I'm Trinket," she said. She continued to stare at the girl with unblinking black eyes, a near perfect match for the doll's black eyes that continued to stare as well. Not a muscle twitched on the face of either girl or doll, Trinket's pale skin looking as still and cold as the doll's porcelain face.

"What are you doing out here?" Trinket asked. "Did you come to see the trees? I like the trees. Maybe we can play a game with the trees."

She glanced at the nearest tree. Without a gesture or any sign of movement, she silently gave the ice on the tree a command: cry. The ice started to melt in slow but steady drops, the twisted visage of the tree looking on at the two girls as tears of melting ice dripped down its face, leaving little holes in the snow beneath.

Farrow

"It's nice to meet you, Trinket." Farrow said as she regarded the now crying tree. The Visage was sad, the gnarled humanoid sapling now crying a hole into the soft snow below. "I didn't mean to come to see the trees, but I'm glad I did. They are pretty in their way," Farrow smiled at the child again, ignoring the unblinking stare from her and her toy doll and the way it made her heart stutter for just a moment.

Farrow wondered if Trinket was lonely, if perhaps the wildwood had dropped her here forbthe sole purpose of engaging with this somehow magical child. "I can't do anything fancy like that," Farrow nodded to the tree, "But I'm sure we can find something fun to do."

When in doubt, use nettles

"The trees are made from dead people," Trinket said with a small nod. "Let's play 'Hide and Seek.' The dead people are hiding. You and I are the seekers. Let's find the dead people."

She looked around, not seeing any dead people around. Just the twisted, horrid trees that she rather liked. The trees were supposed to me formed from the spirits of the dead. Trinket wondered if they marked the graves of the dead.

She walked over to the nearest tree and looked down at the dirt. She couldn't command the living tree. But she could command the dirt.

Move she commanded it. The dirt started moving itself, digging out a hole in the ground. The hole dug deeper and deeper, the dirt sliding off to the side, making piles in the snow on either side of the tree. Trinket simply stood there, motionless, not a single twitch touching her face. She watched the hole, waiting to see if a dead person would appear.

The doll kept watching the other girl, its eyes never wavering, never blinking.

Farrow

Farrow tilted her head as the small girl seemed to burrow magically into the ground with just a stare, and peered into the new hole in the ground. She then scanned the ground around and saw that, even so far into Deepfrost, the light green leaves and stalks of cold- attuned plants had pushed up through the cold ground and the snow, and a small smile appeared on her face. Here and there she saw the new growth of dead nettles, and miner's lettuce, and dotted around the area were the remains of burdock, and she was sure she could find some bearberry plants if she dug deep enough into the snow.

Farrow approached the child, and took her hand lightly, being sure that the girl could pull away if she wished. "I do not think there are any people left find, Trinket, but even so, they live on here. Would you like me to show you?"

When in doubt, use nettles

Trinket looked down at the hand touching hers. Curious. No one ever touched her.

She looked up at the woman before her. Her face remained blank. Expressionless. Unblinking. She merely studied the woman, wondering, weighing, measuring.

"What do you want to show me?" Trinket asked. She lost interest in the digging, releasing the dirt from her command. It was unusual for someone to want to show her something. Unusual was new. Different. Interesting.

"Show me," Trinket said with a tiny nod. "I want to see."

She was uncertain what she would be shown, but that made it all the more curious. Most of the time, she knew what she would find in the places she looked. That was boring. Something unknown was curious. Most curious indeed.

She allowed the woman to hold her hand, though Trinket's hand remained limp in the woman's grasp. She merely waited, unmoving, for her new friend to lead the way.

Farrow

Farrow smiled and led Trinket to a small patch of wilted burdock thistle, the leaves curled and wet in its small patch of half melted snow. She dropped Trinket's hand and dug  around the base of the dead plant, who Thorns had grown soft with the weather. She shook off the cold, and turned to the child with a happy grin.

"I know it doesn't look like much, but this little plant is very tasty, and a good source of food even in the winter." Farrow dug her fingers into the barely sun-thawed dirt, cheering inside herself when her fingers found purchase around the meat of the thistles root before pulling it out of the ground. The root wasn't very long, but it was rotund enough to make a good meal when cooked. Farrow wiped what mud she could from the beige root, and showed it to Trinket, keeping the Thorne leaves in her hand, in case any errant prickers had survived the bitter season.

"You see, when humans die and leave their bodies, and the bodies are buried in the ground, they are eaten but the worms and the bugs who turn the flesh and the bone into new soil for all the plants to use to grow strong, like this," Farrow twisted the Burdock's leafy top from the root and offered it to Trinket. "And those of us left behind can use these plants to continue living. To eat as food or use as medicine, or to simply look upon. And so, even though they have died the people who lived and died here are still living, in all the small growing things."

When in doubt, use nettles

Trinket accepted the offering of food. She ate it promptly and simply, showing no signs of whether it tasted good or bad. It was simply fuel to be eaten.

"I know how bodies and soil and fertilization works," she said. "But that's boring. I want to see a real dead body."

She looked around. There was no one else in the woods. They probably wouldn't be able to find any dead people around here, or any people to kill. Though Sah had told her she wasn't supposed to kill anyone except people she was hired to kill. She didn't see the difference between killing someone she wanted to kill versus killing someone that someone else wanted her to kill. But there was no one else around, so it didn't matter.

"The Fae buried their dead in these woods. Maybe some of them didn't turn into trees. Do you think we could find some Fae burial grounds? That would be interesting to see." She had never seen a Fae before, living or dead. It would be most curious indeed.

Farrow

"I've seen a dead body," Farrow said suddenly, clapping her hands over her mouth as soon as the words left her lips. She hadn't spoken to anyone about her mother's death, except for the bent over old man who had watched as Farrow herself dug and buried the body just under a giant oak tree near their house. He had said he was some sort of holy man, which Farrow doubted, but the company had been nice and necessary for Farrow in that one moment.
I-I mean, I can tell you about it, if you want?" Farrow suddenly wondered if her own limited experience would even be interesting to the child in front of her. She was obviously much smarter than Farrow originally believed, but going around digging in ancient places never ended well for people like her- for humans in general. "I know it won't be quite the same, but then you wouldn't have to spend so much time digging, and maybe, if you would like, I can take you back to my home and make something warm for you to drink, hmm?"

When in doubt, use nettles

"I don't want to hear about a dead body," Trinket said with the tiniest huff. "I want to see one myself. Is there a dead body near your home? That would be more interesting than a warm drink. Warm drinks are boring."

She looked around, finding no signs of dead bodies nearby. Digging for dead bodies was boring if she couldn't find one quickly. The crying trees had been interesting to see, but she had seen them, and she was ready to do something else.

"We can go to your house," Trinket said with a tiny nod. "We can find a new game to play there. What kind of game do you want to play?"

She held her doll against her chest, waiting to be led to a new place to play. She watched the woman, holding perfectly still, not blinking, not a single muscle moving. Still as the dead. Cold as the doll in her arms. The doll, too, stared up at the woman with unblinking eyes. Watching. Waiting.