Chapter 1: The Murkfell Wood
Theodora
“Beware the Murkfell Wood, Miss Mourningbeam,” says the withered old man as he hands me my battered carpetbag and climbs back onto the coach to take the reins. “I’m sorry I can’t take ye any further than here.” He wipes the dust off his brow and begins fiddling with the reins, ready to leave me here, all alone in this godforsaken place.
I glance at the dark forest looming just ahead, the twisted, gnarled branches piercing the innocent blue sky that blankets me from above. I look back to the coachman, who is trying to steady the jittery horses. “I don’t understand. Why can’t you take me to Murkfell village? There’s a perfectly good road running through those trees that your little coach would surely navigate.”
“D’ye see my horses, miss? They won’t step foot into the Murkfell Wood, and you shouldn’t either.” The old man expertly begins to turn the coach around, his two mares following his gentle prodding.
“But where are you going? Surely you just can’t leave me here in the middle of — ”
“Sorry, miss,” he calls as he coaxes his horses up to a trot, “this is as far as I go! Beware the dire wolf of the Murkfell!”
In a flourish of dust and the braying of the horses, I am left alone, listening to the fading pounding of the horses running away from whatever evil I am about to walk into.
Dire wolf? Surely, that is just a story to scare children into not straying too far from home. Dire wolves aren’t real.
Taking a deep breath, I turn, pick up my carpetbag, and begin walking toward the darkness of the unknown wood before me. I have no choice. I have a posting in Murkfell village as an alchemist and midwife, and I have to get there by tomorrow.
It’s just a forest, I think, and there is an easy path to follow straight to the village.As I walk into the gloom of the Murkfell, my soft leather boots crunching on dead leaves, the ravens begin to circle above me and caw as if laughing at my foolishness for entering this place. Looking ahead of me into the wood, it is like nighttime. Behind me, the sun is still shining in a bright blue sky, the ravens still trying to warn me from the branches of the oaks outside the Murkfell.
They do not enter with me.
That’s not a good sign, I think, gripping my bag tighter and putting one foot in front of the other. Alone, I trudge ahead, the branches of the trees closing in and reaching out to snag my red cloak as if to ensnare me in the living being that was the darkness of this forest. Remember Theodora, I think, untangling the red wool from the clawing branches with cold, trembling fingers, you are the light. You are a Mourningbeam. You are a Moonbright witch.
Calling down my power, I call the light from within, as there is no light without to draw from. A soft, warm light begins to glow from my hand, and the trees shrink back as if afraid of my light. I release the light and it hovers before me, a luminous orb lighting my way through the forest. I can see the eyes of owls and other creatures glowing in the dark of the twisted wood, but I fear no animal.
Humans are the real fear. Not this imaginary dire wolf the old coachman warned me about.
Theodora Mourningbeam | Created in Midjourney and Canva
About an hour into my journey, my stomach begins to rumble, and my energy flagging after the long carriage ride from Moonbright. I take shelter under a massive oak right off the path, settling into its roots and wrapping my cloak about me. I cannot believe it is daytime. I look up into the sky, mostly blotted out by the gnarled trees above, but no blue sky greets me from in between its spaces. The sky looks dark gray as if a storm is approaching. Is it always like this here?
My orb still lingers around me, comforting me with its warmth and light. I unwrap a cloth package containing a hunk of bread, cheese, and dried venison my mother had packed before I left. Homesickness begins to make my heart ache, and tears begin to well in my eyes, but I fight the urge for self-pity. Wiping my tears, I try to look forward to my new life in Murkfell village as a Red Cloak and eat my modest repast nestled in the sheltering branches of the enormous oak. It feels almost as if the tree is embracing me.
I then enjoy a few sips of rich red Moonbright wine from my flask, a parting gift from my father. “Take a nip of this to ward off the cold on your journey,” he had said, his sapphire eyes shimmering with tears as he bade his only daughter a final goodbye. The wine warms me after a few sips and gives me the kind of foolish bravery that only comes with alcohol. So, I take another nip and continue my journey.
Suddenly, I hear the cracking of twigs and dried leaves, as if a creature is gingerly walking about in the forest. Heart pounding, I glimpse two sets of eyes, and suddenly, two deer emerge from the shadow of the gnarly trees. Then I see more shining eyes coming toward me. Raccoons, songbirds, rabbits, squirrels, and chipmunks, all emerge from the darkness of the wood and surround me as I sit flabbergasted, nestled in the roots of the oak. I am accustomed to animals being drawn to me, but I am surprised these creatures can even survive here.
Maybe they don’t actually live here, I think, the animals quietly surrounding me. They’re drawn to my light, like moths to flame. Smiling, I expand the orb, spreading more warmth and light to the animals around me.
“You poor things,” I whisper, holding up my hand as a little bluebird alights on my finger. “How do you live in such darkness and gloom?” A deer nudges my hand, and I gently stroke its velvety, soft head. “Follow me, little creatures. I’ll lead you out of here.”
I stand and gather my belongings, walking back onto the path. The animals still scurry about me, the deer walking ahead as if they are my guides.
I’m not leading them, they’re leading me! They’re helping me leave this fell place.
I feel less frightened with the animals around me and am determined to finish my journey posthaste.
A few steps ahead, the pack of animals freezes.
I also halt, looking warily around me. If the animals are frightened, then I should be too, right? Had my light also attracted the unwanted attention of a predator, like a bear or a wolf? A real wolf, not some imaginary dire wolf…
I wave my hand into the orb, and it vanishes, casting me into utter darkness.
Before me, two eyes glow brightly, reflecting off what I knew not. The eyes are too high to be a bear on all fours or even a wolf. And human eyes do not glow.
Is this the dire wolf of Murkfell?
I stand as still as possible, anxiously debating whether to cast my light once more. But in the darkness, my fear begins to creep up my spine, the warnings from the old man floating through my brain. “Beware the dire wolf of Murkfell …”
Dire wolves do not exist, I assure myself, taking a quiet step forward. They went extinct thousands of years ago.
As I take the step forward, I hear the creature step as if it is stepping back away from me.
“I won’t hurt you,” I whisper into the gloom, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but it is still pitch black, the canopy of trees consuming any light there might have been from above.
Suddenly, the eyes began to move toward me. I can hear heavy paws hitting the dirt, and the animals scurry back into the forest. Alone on the road, I have no choice.
I cast my light, the orb illuminating the dark road before me.
To be continued…
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