Chapter One & Two (Edited)

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 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, all 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 jumped to her feet after letting out a boisterous yawn and wide stretch, then hopped 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 took in a deep breath of cold, dewy air, then got straight to work on the daily bustle. She began 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 dressing in her colorfully patched wool dress and leggings, finally 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 will usually pick 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. Now and again Ayla would see a creature within the forest, such as the red deer, or perhaps a raccoon or swallow. Ayla’s glade was in the middle of the Great Forest, which spanned for hundreds of miles in each direction. 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. 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!?” she exclaimed.

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 took a deep breath and began 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 fortunately, 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 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.

Chapter Two: Into the Forest “The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness” -John Muir

“This cannot be happening!” gasped Ayla.

It was unbelievable; Ayla had only stepped twenty paces but somehow the forest had swallowed her whole. She was overthrown with fear and fell to the fern floor beneath her. She was consumed with tears that erupted out of her usually rich blue eyes. Never had Ayla been away from her comfortable cabin for any sort of time, so she had no idea how to proceed. She sat crying for what felt like a very long time, when she finally decided she must go on. Her face was puffy and sore from crying, and the salt from her tears had made her lips dry. Still sitting on the dense forest floor, she opened her satchel and pulled out her jar of water. She took a careful sip to wet her lips, and placed it back into the bag.

While putting the jar of water back into the worn satchel Ayla felt the cool metal from the silver compass. Elated and relieved, she smoothed her thumb over the engraving and tossed it lightly to flip it over right ways. To Ayla’s surprise, the trusted compass was not pointed in East, West, North, or South, but spinning furiously without relent. Ayla was entranced by this strange happening, where was she? Ayla knew that no matter where she stood on Earth, her compass would always point towards North. She had read in one of her books in the window that the world had magnetic poles on the top and bottom of the planet, and the earth gave off a slight magnetic field. She didn’t know much beyond what she had read in the book, and it certainly never mentioned why her compass would suddenly become so erratic.

While distracted by the compass anomaly Ayla did not notice that a small raccoon had been watching her from across the thicket. The raccoon realized she was not observing her surroundings, so he slunk closer, and closer. The raccoon was just about close enough to reach out his nimble fingers when Ayla caught a glimpse of him out the corner of her eye.

“Whoa!” Ayla flinched, “Where did you come from- “

Before Ayla could finish her sentence, the raccoon had taken his opportunity to snatch the compass. Ayla scrambled to her feet to try and retrieve her compass back from the swift raccoon, but he twisted around and bolted into the woods. Leaving behind the mud path that was once Ayla’s creek, she ran after the raccoon jumping over twigs, fallen logs, forest flowers, and even a mouse den here and there. She ran and ran after the raccoon, but soon her satchel wore heavy on her back and she had to stop to take a breath. Panting with her hands on her knees, she looked around and realized that now she had gotten herself even more lost.

“Well this… This is just great,” she huffed out between heavy breaths.

She finally caught her breath, and stood quietly with her hands to her ears, listening. She could hear birds chirping in their nests above, and rodents scurrying along underfoot. She recognized some of the mighty oak trees that stood hundreds of feet tall. From the forest floor, they looked as if they could go on forever, into the Heavens even. Around her, sunshine would slice through the high trees and illuminate leaves holding the final drops of morning dew, or envelope a pink flower on a small mound of dirt. As Ayla listened, she could hear frogs chirp. She followed the noise in hopes she would find a pond, or perhaps even her creek. As she grew closer the chirps grew louder and almost seemed familiar. Ayla got down on her hands and knees and crawled up a small embankment to not frighten the amphibians.

As she settled in on the top of the embankment she saw a strange sight. Ayla could see that what once was a grand pond but was now a large wallow of mud, with an army of healthy looking Wood Frogs chirping and croaking in argument at each other.

“How exactly are our females supposed to lay our children in this squalor!?” yells one of the larger frogs. Timid frogs standing in the background nod their slimy heads in agreement, muttering amongst themselves.

“Now listen,” the largest frog speaks up, “We cannot leave the Great Pond, our ancestors found this haven and none of us have left alive since! We have been safe from all our enemies and fat with worms. Even now we are blessed with more worms than we could ever dream of. How could we leave now?”

The crowd of frogs exploded into chirps, croaks, and the occasional hiss from a larger frog. Ayla’s jaw had dropped, could she understand these animals’ language? How was this even possible? Even in all the commotion happening in the wallow a small frog happened to notice Ayla as she was slipping on the mud while readjusting. At first the small frog chirped quietly, afraid to draw attention to herself. The larger frogs continued to argue amongst themselves about what they should do when suddenly the petite frog drew a deep breath and quacked,

“LOOK!!!!”

The wallow suddenly grew quiet from the booming noise that came from such a tiny creature. Each frog turned towards the source of all this noise. The largest frog, the leader of the Great Pond who had spoken before cleared his throat and said,

“Well, you have our attention. What is so important now?”

The stunted frog cowered down into the mud, shaking like a 25¢ wind-up toy from the pawn store. Her eyes met with Ayla perched up on the mud hill. Ayla saw that each frog followed the gaze and was now slowly turning towards her. The wallow exploded with the frogs deafening, throaty alarm calls. Startled by the siren, Ayla lost her grip and slid down the mud hill into the wallow.

The frogs were once again in an uproar, now because there was a large intruder in the center of their dried up Great Pond. Even though the group of frogs were called an army, this did not mean they were violent in nature to others. They knew they would stand no chance against the giant in the wallow, so they just continued croaking and arguing until finally Ayla, exasperated, peeled herself from the mud and sat upright so she could see the tumult around her.

“Can somebody please explain to me what is happening here?” cried Ayla, nearly defeated.

The frogs quieted, and the leader of the frogs moved forward.

“Large stranger, this is our Great Pond where we have lived alone for as long as we can remember. We can hear the birds and see the sunshine, but we see no enemy or friend other than frog.” The frog leader paused for a moment, watching Ayla’s face contort into utter confusion.

“My name is Rana[4], and I am the leader of the army of frogs. Our pond has turned into nothing but mud and home for worms, but our females are due to lay tadpole soon with no water to birth.”

Ayla sat in contemplation for a few moments, she didn’t have the slightest clue what to do with the information Rana had just given her. Was it coincidence that the frogs pond had turned to mud just like Ayla’s creek? Ayla looked around but saw no inlet or outlet into the vernal pool, so it couldn’t be from the same source as her creek. Ayla scrunched her face, she couldn’t believe she was about to talk with frogs in the middle of the woods, but then she couldn’t believe most of the things that had happened so far that day. She summoned up the courage to address the frog leader and with a puffed-out chest said,

“My name is Ayla, um, of the Small Glade. I live in a cabin within the glade and my creek has turned to mud, just like your Great Pond has. I have never ventured into these woods beyond my glade, and now somehow I have gotten myself terribly, terribly lost,” Ayla started to cry, “Then some raccoon has taken away the only possession that I care about.” Ayla sniveled for a moment then sighed, “… and now I am talking to frogs in the middle of this bloody wood, ha!”

Ayla buried her face into her knees overcome with the excitement of the day. As she blubbered and laughed into her wool leggings, the Wood Frogs quacked and chirped, uncertain what to do. All the noise the frogs were creating seemed to awaken the forest around them. Birds squawked louder in the dense forest above them, mice squeaked in protest trying to get their pups down for an early nap.

Forty wings flapping through the twigs and leaves disturbed even the commotion that was already happening in the wallow. The mud of the Great Pond had become ripe with fat, juicy worms that had attracted the Eastern Bluebirds. A flock of twenty were headed straight for the wallow, but they weren’t content with just the worms.

[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”

[4] Rana: a surname of Indian origin. It is derived from words meaning frog, king, and queen. *Wood frogs come in varying shades of brown and red. Most individuals have a black marking over the eyes that looks like a robber’s mask