CHAPTER ONE: THE SMALL GLADE
Chapter One: The Small Glade. “I grew up in a forest. It’s like a room. It’s protected, like a cathedral. It is a place between Heaven and Earth.” -Anselm Keifer
On this particularly sunny morning, Ayla arose to birds chirping outside her window and sunshine peeking in through the tumble-down[1] shades. The shadows of leaves blowing in the wind made the morning light dance across the floor of Ayla’s small cabin. As she sat at the edge of her bed, she looked around. A few dishes from the night before had been left behind in the sink, drawings left unfinished and sprawled across the table. She had quite an imagination and had dozens of charcoal drawings adorned to the walls. The pantry was overflowing with different vegetables and fruits from her garden, and stacked neatly behind were delicately labeled jarred goods. Ayla knew how important it was to have food stored for the winter months, so she took great joy in creating delectable pine needle jelly, sweet pickles, and vegetable stews, sealed tight. A small cast iron fireplace sat in the middle of the room with a beautifully crafted oak tree embellished on the hatch, the coals glowing faintly from the night before. Everything was exactly how she had left it.
Content with her surroundings, Ayla jumps to her feet after letting out a boisterous yawn and wide stretch, then hops across the room barefoot to open the front door for fresh air. The chirping birds scattered across the small glade[2], startled by the creaking, cracking door. Ayla takes in a deep breath of cold, dewy air, then gets straight to work on the daily bustle. She begins her day in the warm months by walking down to the creek to fetch water, returning to the cabin to stoke the fire and start a pot of boiling water, then get dressed in her colorfully patched wool dress and leggings, replacing her tattered slippers with leather boots. Once dressed Ayla goes to the garden and picks out her breakfast. Her favorite vegetable is broccolini, and she picks out a good bundle to prepare. After breakfast, she will tidy up the cabin and either continue chores, or work on her drawings.
Every day Ayla has the same routine, and every day she does this completely alone. For as long as she could remember, she had been by herself. She was nearing 11 years old when the Summer months came, but had never had company other than herself and a small collection of books in the bay window. Ayla’s glade was in the middle of the Great Forest, which spanned for hundreds of miles in each direction. The winters were never too cold, nor summers too hot. Ayla had always felt a strange connection to the forest around her, however she rarely entered the thick wall of trees unless she had to.
Little did she know, today would end up quite peculiar compared to her usual strict routine. Ayla had forgotten to put on her slippers as she was leaving the cabin that morning, which was quite out of the ordinary for her. The dew was cold and refreshing between Ayla’s toes as she padded along the field towards the small creek. She was caught in a daydream about the clouds as she walked her usual path to the supple creek, when suddenly her right foot squelched into a puddle of moist, heavy earth.
“Mud!?” exclaimed Ayla.
She threw her arms in the air and lifted her foot, disgusted. She looked to the source of her dirty toes, and realized her humble creek and only source of water, was now just a muddy trench on the hillside.
“This doesn’t make any sense at all,” she pondered.
And it didn’t make sense, it was spring time in the Great Woods and there would be no reason for Ayla’s creek to be dry. She barely had enough water stored after going through most of her supplies during last winter. Ayla knew she had to find out why her creek had run dry, so she marched up to her cabin to pack a satchel. As she marched, she slid her feet through the wet grass to attempt to get the dense mud from between her toes. Back at the cabin, she realized she had never even had a chance to have breakfast or gather water. Even further, she looked down and was still in her ragged night gown.
Laughing to herself, Ayla takes a deep breath and begins getting dressed. Her wool dress was made of patches from different blankets around the cabin, as well as her leggings. They weren’t very itchy luckily, and they kept her reasonably warm in the cold months. During the warmest months, she would remove the sleeves and forgo the leggings so she wouldn’t overheat. Her boots were made of fine leather; however, they were very old and well worn. Usually they fit perfectly to her feet, wholly molded from wearing them day after day. Today however, the leftover mud caked between Ayla’s toes left an uncomfortable feeling that was difficult to ignore. For breakfast that day she decided to treat herself to a wheat roll with pine needle jelly in the center. After she was satisfied with her meal, Ayla strode across the small room and pulled her satchel from underneath the simple bed made from boards and straw. In it, she packed her sewing kit containing a needle, a small spool of thread, and a gold thimble embellished with opals. She then packed her leather-bound journal, and her last nub of charcoal. Her most precious item that she owned, was a simple silver compass with “אני אוהב אותך בת “[3] etched on the back. She never knew what it said, but she felt that it had to be meant for her and kept it close. Ayla wasn’t certain how long she would be in the woods, so she also packed two apples, a jar of pickles, and a small wool blanket. She had one large jar of water that she felt would be safe to bring along with her, so it was packed as well. Feeling satisfied that she had packed everything she would need for a short hike into the woods, she paraded herself out the front door.
Ayla paused on the porch of her small cabin and looked inside the open door anxiously. A strange wind tousled her hair and sent a shiver down her spine that made her feel uneasy about the entire trip, but she had no choice if she wanted to survive. Water was survival, that was the most important lesson she had learned in these woods. Ayla harrumphed and slammed the rickety door, spun on her heals and headed straight towards the woods. She crossed the short clearing slowly, taking care not to trip on the many fallen logs, shrubbery, and remains of some ancient metal contraption. She bounced over the muddy remains of her creek, frowning at the sight of her (tepid) absent stream. Ayla walked just a short distance when she felt the same wind that had chilled her before. She stopped suddenly and felt looking back at her cabin one last time for courage would aide her to go on.
Ayla turned slowly about, the sight before her making her heart plummet to the forest floor. Her cabin was no longer there, the glade nowhere in sight. Instead, standing before Ayla was an impenetrable barrier of thick oak trunks.
[1] Tumble-down: [adjective] deteriorated, debilitated, especially because of age.
[2] Glade: [noun] clear, open space in the woods.
[3] * אני אוהב אותך בת “I love you daughter”