Secrets of the Old Forest

 


The guide turned back to Ritter and said, "We are entering the oldest part of the forest. Few come this way, and many of those who do are not seen again."

It looked like a normal forest to Ritter, but he drew his sword out of caution.

"Nay, good Sir," the guide said. "Your sword cannot protect you from the powers that inhabit this place."

The old guide threw his cloak around his bony shoulders and moved cautiously down the trail. Ritter followed, his sword still unsheathed.

They walked silently, slowly for a few minutes, and the air grew warmer, more oppressive. It was like the forest was watching them, and the gaze of the trees was pressing in on them.

The guide stepped lightly to the left to avoid a small mushroom on the trail's right edge, and Ritter copied him. As he did, Ritter's sword lightly grazed the top of the mushroom. He said nothing, and continued following the old man.

Moments later, the trail turned to bypass a huge tree, behind it, a few feet off the trail, Ritter saw an enormous mushroom. It was big enough to sit under!

The guide stopped. "This is the moment of our greatest peril," he said over his shoulder. "We are in the very heart of the forest. Touch nothing but the trail. Especially stay away from the mushrooms."

Ritter nodded, noting how the old man's cloak seemed to ripple in the breeze, but there was no breeze. He blinked, feeling warm. Too warm.

"Why shoo I no touch," Ritter started asking, but his tongue felt thick and tingly. He stopped and blinked again.

The guide turned, his face seeming to ripple like it was under water. Colors like stained glass drifted across his body. Ritter looked up to see where the colors originated, and the trees were rippling too.

"What is wrong," the old man asked, then his eyes grew wide. To Ritter, his eyes were enormous. "What have you done? What did you touch?"

"M'sooord tushed..." Ritter looked at his sword. It seemed to droop like a boiled noodle. "M'sooord is...wobbly."

The guide just stared as his face rippled with colors. "Follow me. Touch nothing!"

Like a jackrabbit, the old man hitched up his cloak and ran down the trail.

Ritter sat down as his face began to tingle.  He smiled up at the enormous mushroom.

The mushroom smiled back.




///

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