Out of The Woods (12 page)

Silently, stepping like natives, they worked their way up the thin dirt track. It was narrow and muddy, and the footing was treacherous. The trail must have just been cut back; sharp-edged branches poked out at odd angles, threatening serious injury if they were incautious. Halley’s breathing became rough with the exertion. In places it was too steep to climb with legs alone; here, she grabbed onto the trunks of trees and hoisted herself up, her feet scrabbling along behind her. Eden followed closely, using the same trees for purchase.

The trees dwarfed them. Halley couldn’t see over, and so tightly were the trees bound by vines and shrubs that she couldn’t see between them either. The world narrowed to the slim, steep track, to the slipping and catching of her feet in the dry gravelly earth. The birds were silent, as if they were afraid to give away Halley and Eden’s position with their song. There were turn-offs and side-trails; Halley ignored them and stuck to the main track. By some implicit agreement, Halley and Eden didn’t speak, moving quickly and carefully up the steep hillside.

So Trance is still alive. Funny. He doesn’t seem handsome anymore. Just deadly.
She carefully worked herself around the sharp tip of a tree branch.
His voice surrounds me with death.
Her biceps burned as she pulled herself up a steep section.
And he’s still with me, even though I’ve left him behind. I can still hear his voice. It’s like he’s inside me.
Her right foot slipped backwards and she grabbed hold of a thick tree trunk to arrest the slide.
I can’t listen to his voice. I’ve got to choose not to listen.

The climb continued. As they rose, wild camellias appeared, their white flowers thickly punctuated by many pin-headed yellow stamens. The flowers were pretty to look at, but the fallen ones were slick when stepped on. Halley and Eden soon learned to avoid them. Vines caught their ankles, tightening and grasping and pulling. Worst of all, the green spiky plants that had plagued Halley on the river gully re-appeared, hooking on clothing and not letting go, tearing at tender skin. Still, Halley and Eden pushed their way through, higher and higher, leaving the lower forest behind.

Finally, the track began to level. They were reaching the apex of the hill. With the leveling, the shrubbery thinned and the going became easier. Sunlight warmed the skin on the tips of Halley’s shoulders, and the world became one shade lighter. As the way began to open, Halley could see that the track was coming to an end. She stopped suddenly.

It wasn’t just the track that was coming to an end. It was the entire forest.

For the first time, Halley could see far into the distance: grey granite; mountains tipped with ice; blue, blue sky.

“Wow,” Eden said.

“Yeah. Let’s stop a minute.”

She sat down quietly under the tall trees. Cross-legged on the damp earth, she slipped the sweat-darkened straps of the bamboo backpack off her shoulders, and set it at her feet.

This moment of transition was important, this being present atop the mountain they had climbed. It was a time of synthesis; a time of reaping. Halley’s chest was high and lifted, her spine straight. A camellia flower fell to the ground next to her, and she watched it fall, and was contented to see it fall, contented by the way that nature knew when it was time to let go, time to move on.

Eden sat down next to Halley, settling as gently as the falling flower.

I feel just like I did when I closed the door of Dad’s house for the last time.
She had lingered there too, holding the cool brass doorknob in her hand, knowing it to be the last time she’d close that door.
The woods are like that. Once I’ve closed this door, I can’t come back
. She looked out at the blue sky and the mountains.
Even if I do come back, I won’t come back as the Halley I am right now. I’m not even who I was a few days ago, when I first came into the woods with Fernando, when I left him to go looking for the baby.
The moment tasted bittersweet.
I wonder if a cicada feels this way when it leaves its old shell hanging on a tree. I don’t like leaving behind bits of me, even when they’re bits I was truly done with.

Halley breathed deeply into her belly, feeling it expand against her clothing, feeling her ribcage rise. She tried to breathe in her new self, to let the change simply be. The pungent smell of the earth and the sweetness of camellia pollen filled her senses. Into her awareness swooped bird song, swelling around her. The ground felt solid and sure under her sit bones. She glanced at Eden, and saw that the girl’s eyes were fixed on the high mountain peaks in the distance. She wondered if Eden was scared, or if she was looking forward to the next challenge. She looked lost in thought.

“I’m hungry,” Eden said suddenly. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Halley laughed. “Yeah, I am. I’m famished!”

Could it possibly be the same day she had sat by the river eating bananas with the lion-monkeys, the same day she had climbed the river gully? It seemed so long ago – no wonder she was so hungry. Reaching into the bamboo backpack, she removed the bananas she’d picked earlier in the day. It was lucky they’d been unripe when she’d stowed them, or they’d have been a mess by now. As it was, the day’s heat had ripened them nicely. Their scent made her mouth water. “Look what I’ve got!”

Eden clapped her hands excitedly.

The bananas disappeared fast; they looked at each other.

Eden said, “Wait for me…I’ll be right back!”

Halley watched as Eden ran back down the path.
What’s she up to?
It didn’t take long to find out. A few minutes later Eden returned carrying six small coconuts, struggling not to drop any of them.

“Of course!” Halley said. “I noticed them when we were walking.”

“We can eat them, and we can drink them too,” Eden said. “Our picnic wouldn’t be complete without something to drink.” Giggling, she added, “It was such fun climbing the coconut trees.”

Halley smiled. “I should’ve gone with you. I love to climb trees.”

Her eyes fixed on the coconuts, and she thought of the long thin trunk of the coconut tree. “How much do you weigh?” she said, as she got her pocketknife out.

“Why?” Eden said.

Halley pried drinking holes in the tough fibrous shells of the coconuts, digging all the way down through the coconut meat to the liquid center. “I was wondering how you got up the coconut tree. I’ve never been able to climb one myself.”

“It is pretty hard, if you don’t know how. I read a book about it – you do it like a frog. I’ll show you sometime.”

Halley nodded and they began on the coconuts.

Through the small holes – they had to purse their lips to stop liquid dribbling down their cheeks and into their ears – they drank the sweet, grainy coconut water.

“It’s like kissing a coconut,” Eden giggled.

“What do you know about kissing?”

“I know enough. From TV.”

When the liquid was gone, Halley sawed a larger circular hole in the coconut hulls, and then reached her hand inside to slice out the thick, moist, white flesh. She laid the bits of coconut on a flat leaf, and when the work of cutting it out was finished, they ate it all. The simple meal was abundantly nourishing.

Halley and Eden sat a few moments longer. Halley memorized the woods around her: their scent; their look; their lessons. Then, like the camellia flower she’d watched fall, she knew her time had come. She pushed herself up to her full height. Slipping on the now empty bamboo backpack, she gestured to Eden to follow, and she led the way forward, out of the woods.

Halley had only walked a hundred yards when she stopped suddenly. Eden kept going, bumping right into her back with a bounce and a giggle.

“Why are we stopping?” she asked. She stepped forward to stand next to Halley, who put a restraining arm in front of her.

Eden’s mouth dropped open.

They faced a nearly vertical scree slope, completely bare of vegetation. But for a few rocky outcroppings and some scattered patches of tall yellow grass, there was nothing that would slow their descent.

The scarred landscape was ugly and lifeless.

Thoughtfully, Halley reached down and picked up a handful of dusty pebbles.
Scree, just scree. I can’t remember ever going down a hill this steep with just scree under foot
… She shook the pebbles in the palm of her hand, listening to their almost musical sound. The air was still and the sound stood alone in the silence. Spreading her fingers, she watched the pebbles slip through and cascade to the ground, some rolling further downhill, continuing the motion that she had begun. It was much drier here than in the forest, where the vegetation held moisture in the earth. She rubbed her hands together and felt the graininess left behind by the dust.

Suddenly breaking the stillness, the wind began to whistle. It had an animosity about it, that wind: it snatched leaves off the nearby trees and flung them at Halley and Eden; it threw bits of debris into their eyes; it stirred the loose dust into tiny whirling dervishes that traveled across the face of the hillside, giving the illusion that the barren descent was alive with small, threatening figures.

In the face of the ugly barrenness, the hostile wind, in the face of the dust dervishes, Halley thought how easy it would be to duck back into the woods, to return to the path she knew. Even after she’d said she couldn’t go back; even if Trance were still in the woods. At least she’d know what to expect.
Better the devil you know
…

She shook her head. It was time to move on; something was pulling her forward. It was still about saving the baby, but it suddenly was about more than this.
It’s about saving me too.
This thought hadn’t occurred to her before, but it made perfect sense. The sense of suffocation she’d been feeling for the last few years was lifting. But here, near the woods, it still lingered in the air.
That’s open air in front of me. I’ve got to reach it. But first, we’ve got to get down this hillside.

Eden stood by her side, waiting.

It’ll be a rough scramble. Best not to stand here too long thinking about it!
“Okay,” she said, straightening her spine, and breathing in deeply. “I’ll go first. Aim for the bigger rocks and the grassy spots. They’ll slow you down a bit.” She pointed out a few places for Eden to aim for. “You ready?”

Eden nodded.

Halley stepped forward, aiming her feet towards a clump of rock several feet down. She immediately slipped, and began to slide. Fast. Then faster. The pace was dangerous. If she tripped, she’d go into a free tumble down the slope. She dropped onto all fours, sliding on her bottom, grabbing at weeds to slow her pace.

But sliding down on her bottom meant she was immersed at head height in dust. Her eyes filled with grit, and she began to cough. She couldn’t see Eden. She shouted for her, but there was no reply. She coughed urgently, trying to clear her throat. Again, she was sliding faster. Her elbows jarred against the earth, her teeth banged together. One by one, her fingernails broke off with sharp bites of pain. After what seemed an eternity, she made it through the dust and could see again. She ground her heels into the earth and came to a skidding stop.

Halley looked behind her, back up the face of the hill.
Where are you Eden?

Suddenly, she could hear giggling, and Eden’s small figure appeared. She was on her back too, sliding down the hillside. She was absolutely covered in dirt. The pebbles she’d dislodged slid down around her like an entourage. From her laughter, Halley gathered that Eden had found a way to make the descent more fun. She skidded to a stop beside Halley.

“You looked so funny,” Eden said. “You’re doing it this way…”

She dropped her whole back down onto the ground, pretending to slip down the hillside with every muscle, even her jaw, clenched tight. Then she turned around and clambered back up to Halley. “It’s like riding horses,” she said, sitting back down again. “Or skiing. If you tense everything up, it’s a lot harder. Try it this way.” She got into position. “Try lifting your bottom up and letting your whole body go soft.” Eden lifted her bottom up off the ground, and hovered over the earth a few inches. Her feet were planted in front of her, the palms of her hands hugging the earth behind, her fingers pointing down the hill. She began to move, and then to slide. It looked just like a small child playing at crab-walking on the beach. It worked going down a hillside too: the resulting movement looked effortless. In fact, it looked kind of fun.

Eden dug her heels in to stop, and waited, looking back up the hill, while Halley tried it. Halley was tentative at first, still tense through her legs and arms, and Eden shouted, “Let go! It’s much more fun that way.”

So Halley did. She started slowly, but then she crabbed her way fast down the hillside like Eden, using her arms and legs, her belly exposed to the sky. She caught up with Eden and then passed her. It took a little while to get used to the speed and the slipping a little bit out of control, but when she did, a giggle built in her belly. It bubbled there, until it spilled out over her edges. To her amazement, she too was laughing aloud. Finally, after much dirt, and scrambling, they reached the bottom.

It didn’t much matter that they were both scratched and bleeding from minor scrapes, and that their clothes were torn in several places. Their laughter was what mattered, their doing of thi
s thing-that-could-not-be-done
.

When they finally stopped laughing and caught their breath, they looked at each other. At the same time, both said, “High Five!”, and they broke down into a fit of giggles again. It took a while to rub away the tears of laughter from their eyes.