“What’s this for?” asked Alan.
“Our son needs to learn to dance if he isn’t going to embarrass himself,” she explained, “I can’t dance and play at the same time.”
“You know I can’t play half as well as you,” argued her husband.
“Would you rather teach him to dance?” she asked with one brow raised.
Daniel’s father accepted the instrument without further complaint.
“Just a simple melody, something like ‘Rover’s Pride’ maybe. We just need a moderate tempo,” she told him.
“I can manage that,” answered her husband.
“Come here, Daniel,” ordered his mother.
He reluctantly obeyed, embarrassed even before they began. Helen pulled him closer and showed him how to place his hands, one high to receive hers and the other low, resting on her waist. He got even redder whenever his father offered additional advice.
“The left hand is your game hand, son,” called the senior Tennick. “If you’re confident in the dance, you use it to guide her around the room. The more confident you are, the more they’ll like you. When you’re really sure of yourself, move it further around to the small of her back.”
“What’s that supposed to mean—dearest,” said his wife with some emphasis.
“I’ll be happy to show you,” said Daniel’s father. Setting the instrument aside he took his son’s place, putting his hands in the positions she had shown their son.
They began dancing, moving smoothly to an imaginary song while Alan kept his left hand modestly where he had originally placed it. Midway through he began humming, to convey a sense of the tempo, and as he did he slipped his arm further around, placing his hand snugly at the middle of her back. Pulling lightly he drew her a bit closer and began to move her more purposefully around the room. Helen acquired a slight flush to her cheeks as he stared into her eyes.
“Your father may have a point,” she told her son, staring boldly back at her husband.
“Of course I do,” he replied, grinning. He glanced at Daniel, “How do you think I caught your mother?”
Daniel watched his parents with undisguised admiration, wondering if he could really replicate their graceful ease on the dance floor.
“When you’re really sure of yourself,” added his father, “you can slide that left hand farther down.” By way of demonstration, he squeezed Helen in a rather familiar way.
“What do you think you’re trying to teach him?” she exclaimed, moving back and giving him a look of mock outrage.
“You want grandchildren someday don’t you?” her husband replied with a perfectly serious face.
His response sent them both into gales of laughter, while Daniel buried his face in his hands. It took a lot of cajoling from both of them to convince him to begin his lessons in dancing again after that.
“You can’t die of embarrassment Daniel,” advised his mother, “but if you don’t practice, you might step all over her feet, and then I guarantee that you’ll never get another dance with her.”
Daniel wasn’t so sure about embarrassment, but he believed her about the practice.
***
A few days later his father gave him a reprieve from shepherding and sent him on an errand to pick up some dried beans from Seth’s house. Apparently they had happened upon an excellent bargain while trading a week or two prior, and Seth’s father, Owen, had bartered for far more than they would ever need. He had agreed to trade a large portion with Alan Tennick in exchange for extra help at the next shearing.
Daniel didn’t mind though. Anything was better than another day of monotony in the hills. With the family wagon hitched to their only oxen, he made it to Seth’s house after several hours. It would have only taken him half that time on foot, but the wagon would come in handy when it came to transporting several fifty pound bags of beans.
After arriving, Daniel and Seth wasted no time loading the wagon—so they could spend the rest of their time catching up with one another.
“Did you hear about the rider?” asked Seth as soon as they had finished.
“Rider?”
“You know, one of the forest gods,” clarified Seth.
“No.”
“My dad heard about it from Mr. Brown when he went to town last week,” explained Seth, pointing at the beans they had just loaded.
Daniel frowned, “Was it actually one of the forest gods, or just one of their wardens?”
“Does it matter? Both are bad news,” said Seth.
Daniel glanced around quickly, “Your mom will wash your mouth out if she hears you talking like that!”
“I don’t care. People are crazy if they think the gods care what we think about them,” replied Daniel’s friend, rebelliously.
“You’ll care if one of them takes you away,” said Daniel uneasily. While it hadn’t happened in his lifetime, the old-timers said that once or twice in every generation the forest gods would come and claim a hapless young man or woman, usually because of their sinful thoughts.
“If they do, it won’t be because of the kind of things I’ve been thinking, trust me. I think a bucketful of bad things every morning before breakfast and they still haven’t come for me,” Seth assured him.
“Like what?”
“Most of ‘em involve Cat taking a bath,” said his friend slyly.
Daniel fought down a torrent of varied emotions; anger, jealousy, and a small amount of guilt, since he would be escorting Kate to the dance that fall. He pushed those thoughts aside, “Back to the rider…”
“Yeah,” said Seth, nodding, “Mr. Brown said he saw one crossing the river at the end of the valley, where the deep woods start.”
The ‘deep woods’ was what the people of Colne said when referring to the true forest. The shallow hills where they lived were mainly populated because the larger trees of the ‘deep woods’ wouldn’t grow there. Some said that there had once been extensive plains nearby, but over time the deep woods had spread to cover most of the gentler, more temperate parts of the world. It went without saying that no one entered them; if they did, they never returned, much like Kate’s father.
“Could he tell if it was one of the gods?” asked Daniel again.
“He couldn’t be sure at that distance, but he didn’t think the hair was silver,” said Seth, obviously reluctant to reduce the importance of his information by allowing that it was just one of the wardens.
The forest gods were silver-haired, which was about as much as anyone knew about them. It was said that they had blue eyes and slender, tapering ears, but Daniel had never heard of anyone who had gotten close enough to honestly claim to know the truth of it. There were also legends about other forest gods, with different colorations, like black skin or red eyes, but no one living in the hills near Colne or Dereham had ever seen them.
The wardens were thought to be human for they had a variety of common hair colors and facial features. They could also speak and understand the common tongue, which had never happened with one of the forest gods. They were still dangerous, though. When one of them appeared in a town it usually preceded the loss of one of the younger men or women of the community.
No one knew for certain what the wardens’ relationship to the forest gods was, though most assumed them to be some sort of servants. Some thought that they originated from the children whom the wardens had taken over the years, but it was all speculation.
“You think they might be about to take someone?” wondered Daniel.
“Who knows?” answered Seth. “Maybe not, it hasn’t happened in our lifetimes.”
Daniel hoped his friend was right.
Chapter 4
A week later, Daniel’s mother sent him on an errand to the Sayer house. She wanted him to see if Kate’s mother had any yellow yarn to sell them; at least that was the reason she claimed.
“I’d be happy to run over, Mom,” Daniel told her.
“Don’t run, sweetheart. Take your time, your father can
tend the flock today,” she told him.
Alan’s ears pricked up at this pronouncement, “Their house is less than an hour’s walk from here. If he doesn’t waste time, he can be back soon enough to handle the sheep.” He sounded mildly annoyed.
Helen gave him an emphatic look, as if to impress some important information upon him without using words. “Let him take his time, Dear. We need to keep up good relations with the neighbors.”
That finally got through to him, and he nodded, but he couldn’t resist a joke, “Oh! Of course you’re right, though I can’t help but remember that the last time you spoke to me on the topic, you told me you’d best not catch me making trips to console the Widow Sayer.”
Helen glared at him while Daniel laughed.
As he started out the door his father stopped him, “Take the cittern with you, Daniel.”
“To buy yarn?”
“Everyone loves music, Daniel, and you have a fine hand with it,” Alan winked at his son. “You’ll thank me someday.”
***
Brenda Sayer opened the door to their home and welcomed him in. Green eyes and thick auburn hair reminded Daniel immediately of Kate, and as he followed her, he couldn’t help but think of one of his father’s old pieces of advice, ‘If you want to know what a woman will look like, look at her mother.’
Judging by Brenda Sayer, Kate had a wonderful future ahead of her. Her mother’s hips were full but healthy, much like her bosom, hinting that her daughter would have a magnificent figure someday. She glanced back at him over one shoulder, “Kate should be back in a moment. Would you like some tea?”
Daniel quickly raised his eyes from where they had been, meeting her gaze awkwardly, “Actually, Mother sent me over to see if you have any yellow yarn.”
“Oh,” replied Brenda with a faint smile of amusement. “I thought perhaps since you had your mandolin with you, you might play a little for us.”
“Well, sure…,” he answered. He didn’t bother to correct her about the instrument’s name. The two were similar enough that it hardly mattered.
“The air is cooler outside if you want to sit on the bench,” she offered. “I already have some tea made. I’ll be there in a second.”
He took her advice and stepped back out onto the porch. The cittern he put within easy reach, and then he took a seat on the long oak bench that Kate’s father had built years ago, before he vanished into the deep forest.
Brenda appeared a moment later and sat down beside him. Her hair carried a pleasant scent of heather and lavender. “The tea is cool, I’m afraid,” she told him. “I actually prefer it that way in this hot weather. You don’t mind do you?”
“No ma’am,” he answered respectfully.
“You’ve gotten awfully tall these days,” she continued, reaching over to tousle his hair. “You’re even taller than me when you’re sitting.”
Daniel was only a month away from turning fifteen now, and he had grown considerably over the past year. His shoulders had broadened, and unlike some of his gangly peers, he had gained muscle to match his frame. He found himself slightly uncomfortable under Brenda’s appraising eye.
“Mom says I might be even bigger than Dad by the time I’ve finished,” he told her.
“Mother!” said Kate in obvious dismay. She had just appeared from the side of the house carrying a load of freshly picked greens from their garden. Her hands were covered with black soil, and her hair was tied back in a severe braid. She was flushed from the sun, and her skin had a faint sheen of sweat.
Daniel thought she positively glowed. He stood to greet her, “Hi Cat.”
Brenda spoke before her daughter could reply, “There you are.”
“Why didn’t you tell me!? I’m a complete mess,” said Kate.
“Well, I was just about to go let you know…” said her mother somewhat helplessly. She sounded more amused than apologetic.
“I’ll be right back Daniel,” said Kate, after shooting her mother a blistering glance. She put the load of greens on the edge of the porch and went back to use the washbasin they kept near the back entrance of their home.
“Did she seem a bit flustered to you?” asked Kate’s mother with a grin.
Daniel blushed, “I-I don’t see why.”
She gave him a glance that for a moment seemed almost predatory, “Oh, I’m pretty sure I see why.”
Kate reappeared a moment later. Her hands were clean now, and her face had been freshly washed. She might have brushed her hair as well; it seemed uncommonly smooth despite no longer being braided. “Hello Daniel,” she said, beginning fresh.
“Hello Kate,” he responded before coming to a full stop. His mind struggled to find something to say.
“Mrs. Tennick sent him over to fetch some yarn, but I think he might be convinced to stay and play some music for us,” said Kate’s mother, giving her daughter a knowing glance.
Kate smiled and the sun came out, bathing Daniel in a warm glow. “That sounds wonderful, Mother,” she replied with a certain emphasis on the last word. “Perhaps I should keep Daniel company, while you look through what you have?”
Brenda rose and headed back into the house, “I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t hurry,” suggested Kate. “I know you have a lot to sort through. I’m sure Daniel will understand if you take a while.”
Brenda laughed as she closed the door. Daniel heard her say something that sounded like ‘good luck’ after she shut it, but he wasn’t certain who the words were meant for.
“How have you been?” asked Daniel after his brain reawakened.
“I’ve been well, thank you,” she answered as she stopped in front of the bench. She hesitated then, unsure where to sit. He was standing now, and she wanted to be close to him, but not too close. Sitting in the middle would assure her of proximity, but might also seem too aggressive.
Daniel misunderstood her hesitation, and on a sudden impulse pulled out his handkerchief and dusted one end of the oak bench for her. The wood was certainly not dusty, and Kate’s mother had been sitting there only a minute before, but he could think of nothing else to do.
That settled the question of where to sit, though. Kate settled down on the spot he had needlessly cleaned, and he took a place at the opposite end. Only three feet separated them but it felt like an ocean. He stared at his hands for what seemed like an eternity before finally apologizing, “I’m sorry.”
“Whatever for?”
He glanced up and was nearly transfixed by those green eyes again. Looking away, he saved himself before his useless tongue seized up again. “I’m just not very good at conversation,” he admitted.
Kate laughed, relaxing now as she realized he was just as nervous as she was. “We never had any problem talking before.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, “but that was before the—before you—I mean…”
“Before you asked me to the dance?” she suggested.
“Yes,” he said with some relief.
“It isn’t really such a big thing,” she said, hoping to reassure him. “Lots of people go to dances, it doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
That thought was something of a reprieve for him, but it also made him feel somewhat discontent. “That’s true,” he admitted.
“So what have you been doing?”
That helped. “I saw Seth yesterday,” he told her. “Dad sent me over with the wagon.”
“Did he mention asking me to the dance?” she asked, curiously.
“No,” said Daniel. “I felt somewhat guilty about it, but I didn’t mention that you were going with me either.”
She frowned, “Think it’ll hurt his feelings?”
Daniel shrugged, uncertain.
“If the reverse had been true, would it have hurt yours?” she wondered aloud.
“It would have stung pretty bad,” he admitted.
“I wonder why?” she mused.
He turned a deep shade of red as he realized that he had just given
his feelings away. “Seth said Dalton Brown saw one of the wardens last week.” It was the only thing he could think of to cover his embarrassment.
Kate’s face blanched. Mentioning the wardens or the forest gods was a short hop from reminding her of her father’s disappearance. Daniel realized his mistake immediately.
“Damn, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” he said in a rush.
She shook her head, “Don’t be, it’s alright. Life goes on, and it’s been years now.”
“Word of the sighting is probably all over town by now. I bet they’re all worrying,” opined Daniel.
“Supposedly, they only take the wicked,” said Kate, “so you should be safe.”
“I’m not so sure…”
She grinned, “You haven’t been harboring sinful thoughts, have you?”
Daniel had already begun to adjust to living in a nearly perpetual state of embarrassment, and so he managed to get out a simple reply, “You’re the last person I could tell about that.”
Now it was Kate’s cheeks that were burning. They both went silent then, and it was a relief when he remembered the cittern. “Music?”
“That would be perfect.”
He was a lot more comfortable now that he had something to occupy his hands. Drawing the cittern from its case he ran his fingers over the strings a few times while he checked to make sure that it was still in tune. “What would you like to hear?”
She thought carefully for a moment, “Do you know ‘Dana’s Lament’?”
“I can play it,” he returned, “but I’m not sure if I can sing it properly.”
“That’s fine; I just like the sound of it.”
He nodded and began to play, one hand on the neck of his instrument while the other strummed. He was confident of the tune, but nervous regarding the words. The song was a sad one, telling a story of lovers, separated by war first and eventually by death. It was lengthy, and while the music wasn’t particularly difficult he wasn’t certain his voice could reach all the notes.
He sang quietly, hoping that when he reached the part his voice couldn’t ascend to, that it wouldn’t be too obvious. As the story progressed, he focused more on the music and his self-consciousness began to melt away. He barely registered the fact that she was now sitting much closer.