Askafroa

 

The sound of coughing and wheezing filled the village air, breaking the eerie silence. Not a person stirred. Smoke rose from each home as I wandered down the street, glancing between building to building in an attempt to see what was happening. Hollowed faces peered at me from cloth covered windows, corners pulled back. Hands clasped over mouths as they broke into wet hacking fits.

I winced and pulled the shawl about my neck higher, covering my nose and mouth. Mortal diseases rarely affected me, thanks to the inhuman parentage I bore, yet acting immune would make the humans fear me and so I protected myself. The smell of ash and smoke in the air still clung to m nose as I breathed through the wool, feet navigating the muddy trails. 

The homes were new, made of ash and other woods from the nearby forest. Despite its remote location, the village sat on the river and attracted enough boats in her port that it had expanded rapidly. Yet the dock was still. Even the barrack that sat upon its muddy banks was empty, no fire in its hearth. 

Not a soul stirred in the market. Dogs roamed, barking at my presence before scampering after something I could not see. Every stall had blankets roughly thrown over the top. Flies buzzed around, landing on the blankets and climbing under to whatever rotted below. 

At the edge of the town, a fire burned, stoked continuously. I approached the woodsman who was adding logs, my eyes wandering his face for any signs of illness. He paused, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of a gloved hand. He gently rested his ax on his shoulder and stared at me from above the scarf about his face.

An awkward silence passed between us as I looked to his blazing eyes to the fire behind him, where bodies laid in various states of burning. Fingertips smoldered, shining bright red as a wind blew through. I grimaced and sighed. “Plague?”

His eyes narrowed then turned sorrowful as he gestured in futility. “Perhaps.”

“From the boats?”

He was tall, a hulking form of a man. The kind that came from people who worked the land. I tilted my head as he hesitated, eyes looking away from me towards the half cut down forest. A field of stumps sat at its feet that lead into the deep trees, where an eerie silence waited. 

“No.”

I was glad he couldn’t see the look of irritation my mouth would have betrayed. “How long has it been?”

“First got sick two months ago.”

“And how long have you been sick?”

He became still and his eyes narrowed as I looked at the off-tone of his skin, a blue-green hint to it. The pallor had only just started.

“What happens?” I asked when he turned, putting his ax into a stump with a strength I enjoyed. “Coughing? Blood?”

“No. Black stuff… like… rot. Dry, dusty.” 

My brows furrowed. “Like what plants get? In a field when they rot?”

Understanding touched his eyes and he nodded his head as he leaned down to pick a body wrapped in a sheet. Where blood would’ve been, a wet blackness stained the sheets. The faint scent of mold emanated from the bodies as he placed them in the fire. 

“When did you start clearing the forest?”

The man turned and jabbed a finger towards the trees. “It was them, wasn’t it? That witch.” He spat the word.

“You’ve a witch?” I turned to look at the trees. Most of them were ash with a sprinkling of coniferous. Dead leaves lined the ground from the clearcutting. 

“Voices in the woods. Woman’s voice. Telling us to keep out. Figured it was some old hag trick.”

“And when you cut them down?”

“First it was a minor cough. Then the black shit. Then people died, mouths open, breathing out that crap. The clear cutting stopped. No one else got sick.” He turned and looked hard at me. “Why?”

“Just curious. I’ll be on my way.” My eyes wandered over the village. Every home was made of ash. Piles of the lumber sat around, with the unused bits in piles for fire. I sucked in a breath.

“What’re you gonna do?” He stood closer but still distant. I turned my head to look at his face, gaunt beneath the mask.

“Try to make sure you live but it’ll mean no more of this.” I gestured at all the wood. “Earth’s not made for your taking. Do you understand that?”

“They’re just trees,” he said, as though I were delusional. 

“Fine. They’re just trees. And you’ve just got the plague.” I shook my head and started towards the forest, ignoring his shouts that carried after me. A few swear words escaped my lips in an angry whisper. Moving further away meant I heard the coughing again, the wheezing and hacking that came out of the homes. 

Outside a home, I stopped to grab a water pail. A woman watched me from the door, hard features cold. Our eyes met and she tilted her head, catching the strange colors in them and the inhuman pupils. Yet she didn’t flinch. Her eyes looked to the woods then back to me before she gave a simple nod. 

“Burn it,” she hissed. 

“The river that went to the lake near here. What happened?”

“Dammed it up. Lumber mill.”

“Of course.” I shoved the pail into her rain barrel. “You’re old enough to know better.”

Surprise showed on her face. 

“You must remember Stonehearth. Blocked a river. Killed the forest.”

“They burned it.”

I shook my head. “They burned. Themselves included. Too sick, couldn’t risk spreading it. And then what happened?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You can’t possibly know.”

“A new town was built. By people who cared for the forest there. And?”

“They didn’t get sick.” 

“So why here? Now? Why didn’t you stop them?”

“I thought…” Her hardness fell away to the fearful child beneath. “I thought it was a bad dream. A story.”

I sighed and stepped towards the wood, bucket dripping. “Stories are there to keep you from dying.”

The mud clung to my boots as I walked away from her. I heard her rise and go into the home, words coming quickly to her as she spoke to her sick family. They were so far gone, I wasn’t sure I could save them. Another story that would end in flames.

The woods were quiet as I entered, hostile energy holding its breath as I stepped within. A hint of sorrow hung in the air. Fresh stumps were everywhere, adding the smell of sawdust to the bouquet of decay. Mushrooms hid in the dead leaves and grew on trunks.

My eyes wandered the living trees, moving deeper and deeper with each passing moment. They were young trees, by forest standards. Replanted on soil eager for life. Yet already being cut. The further in I went, the older they got until I found their mother.

She was large, with great roots spreading out into the forest floor. Green leaves still clung to her branches. Moss grew from each of the wandering roots, giving the tree the appearance of a dress. I smiled at her beauty and stopped, setting the bucket on the ground.

“I come to offer a sacrifice,” I said to the tree. “Of myself, for a time, and of water. You must be parched.” 

Great brown eyes opened in the tree as they peered down at me. Her wooden face turned, pulling out of the old ash. Branches wove together to form her limbs and hair, with great roots moving her along as a tentacled sea creature would. They dug deep into the earth and moved her forward to stand above me.

“Nothing you can do will repay what I am owed.” The voice was harmonious and echoed around the forest in delicate notes. It was the sound of leaves moving, birds chirping, and bugs singing. I shivered to hear it.

“I am sorry for your loss, Mother.” 

She tilted her head. “Thank you for your compassion.”

My fingers gripped the rope on the bucket. “May I?”

“You offered two gifts.”

I paused. “What would you have of me, Mother?” 

She neared, one long smooth branch moving out to stroke my cheek as I gazed up at her. “You wish to answer for these people.” Roots climbed up my ankle and wound around my calf, lifting me upwards to her level.

“Do you know what it is like? To be so deeply connected to your family? To have them snuffed out?”

I grimaced and pulled off the scarf I had been keeping over my lips. “No. I have felt loss but not as you do.”

The roots moved higher, securing my waist and slipping beneath my clothing, leaving trails of dirt on my skin. Tendrrilss slid higher, wrapping around my chest, over my breasts and shoulders. In her tangled grasp I rested, feeling her complete control of my body.

Her small branches slipped upwards, sliding down my arms and up my neck until they pressed against my mouth. “You said I could have you. May I take part of you? I am too weak to heal this place.” The tip of a root caressed my lip.

“Yes.” 

I gasped as small cuts were made along my body and her roots slipped inside. Her expression lightened as she moved into my body, gently probing deeper and moving inward. Pain moved through my body, mixed with strange sensations of pressure and wiggling. I whimpered against the invasion, swallowing by a cry as she filed me with her being.

The roots crept into my nose and mouth and moved deeper. I felt the tiny tendrils moving into my mind, creeping along my brain. “Yes. There,” she whispered although I could barely see her as I breathed through the pain.

Suddenly the world around me exploded with song. Hundreds of pulsing whispers flowed in the air, dancing along the moss on every tree. Roots entangled, sending messages to mushrooms and fungi that relayed them to the other plants. Life flowed from one plant to another, an organism working together.

Their minds flowed into mine, sharing generations of knowledge. Of forest fires and new growth, human saws, monstrous creatures breaking them like twigs, and of floods. I gasped as their energy moved into me, filling me with the sensation of life. I heard my whimper from her ears.

Sunlight spilled from the sky and I cried out in joy as it hit my skin, sending jolts of electricity along my flesh. My body quivered, shuddering with the ecstasy as the Mother moaned softly at our shared joy. 

The light played off of our bodies, humming a new song of delight that warmed my skin. Flowers blossomed on her branches and I moaned as I felt them brush against my skin where they grew around my body. Tiny petals caressed me as the roots held me firm.

Small flowers grew from my skin, matching the Mother’s as I cried out when the roots moved, teasing the skin of my own inner folds and filling it with flowering life. My breath came in small gasps as the flowers shifted, changed, and began to turn to seeds. I felt their life within me, orgasmic release whispering within as the final cycle began to pulse within me.

“There,” the Mother whispered. Tiny seeds formed where the flowers had been and began to drift off. The keys floated downward, landing on the forest floor. In a heartbeat they dug into the earth, piercing its flesh and growing seed. The Mother’s root moved deeper, filling me and pulsing with each new seed that sprouted.

I whimpered and felt the tears of need slide down my cheeks. My skin hummed with the need to release, to feel them grow and flourish, and fulfill the hunger she had for life. “Now,” she murmured, wooden lips touching my cheeks, “They are your children too.” 

She pulled me inside of her, roots sliding deep and pushing her ecstatic energy into me as the sun caressed her skin. I finally cried out, whimpering and shaking against the roots that held me outside and inside. The climax ripped through me, an influx of sensation from each new life and the Mother’s insatiable caress that drove me wild.

My skin tingled as she held me inside her, the roots slowly pulling out, their energy healing as they went. I shivered as she set me to the ground and collapsed to the ground,  panting and whimpering. 

“To be alive is joy, Guardian. Thank you for your gift of you. Long may our forest grow.” I knew she was smiling, I felt it in my bones and it sent another wave of delight through me. 

Slowly I knelt, looking up at her. “Now may I?”

She smiled and nodded. 

I stood, finding the bucket, and poured it slowly over her roots and the seeds we had created. Her eyes lit up as her skin moistened, growing lush and full of life.

“Thank you,” I whispered softly. 

She nodded and stepped into her tree, the sunlight world around me suddenly seeming dimmer.

I turned, readying to bring the bucket back to the town that refused to give life instead of taking it. The elder stood there, eyes wide in both horror and amazement as she stared at me. I approached her and held out the bucket.

“What-”

“I can’t explain, child. Care for her. For her children. Our children.”

Our eyes met and silence stood between us. Finally, I turned, walking away from the woman and her village. Her curious voice followed me as she tried to speak to the Mother, only to be met with silence.