My Forest, My Love

A long, long time ago, in a land far away, there was a beautiful Goddess who ruled over the forest that snaked over a large mountain.  At the base of this mountain, a small farming village thrived. The deity loved her people and took care of them always. The people loved her in return and willingly gave generous offerings to her.

Then, a small girl, daughter of the richest man in the village, became very ill. She was born with a terrible disease, and all the doctors said she would not live through the winter. Just as her mother began to cry, a beautiful creature with glorious white hair that shifted as though she was in water and eyes that danced through the rainbow like a child’s soapy bubble appeared through the wall. She was accompanied by a slender man with bright red hair, pointed ears and a fluffy tail with a white tip. Without a word she glided to the girl and kissed her on the forehead. The child opened her eyes and smiled. The woman smiled back before fading away to the sound of bells. The girl had a small star shaped scar on her forehead, but her illness was gone.

Overjoyed, the father of the child left a necklace for the Goddess as a gift. It was a beautiful silver charm with an opal in the center. The most glamorous thing he could afford. The Goddess was so thrilled with the gift that she never took it off.

Years passed and the people forgot about their protective God, even the little girl moved away without so much as a backwards glance, but the Goddess didn’t mind. She continued to look over them, even though they could no longer see her. The village grew smaller and smaller as people moved to the cities until there was no one left. She was devastated when the last villager, an old man who refused to leave, died.

She was sad, but she took to looking after the forest animals and she became happy again. After all, she still had her fox familiar, her loyal guard and trusted friend. All summer, she sang with the birds and played games with the rabbits. Under her protection, the forest thrived. She was laughing with a new born baby deer as he tried to stand, when she heard cries in a nearby bush. She pushed the branches out of the way to see three starving raccoon pups. She lifted them in her arms and pressed a charm into each of them.

One had a brown star around his eye as he turned human, the next had a star on his stomach, and the third, had one on his heart. They stared up at her with such awe and excitement at being changed that the Goddess couldn’t help but laugh.

By pressing charms into them, she had made the three orphaned raccoons her new familiars. They followed her back to the temple, built in her honor, now dilapidated and rotting. She called out to her fox familiar at the base of the bright red stairs, chipped and cracking.

The small raccoons seemed to see through its dull coating to the splendor it once held. Dragons snaked across the roof and wound themselves around the hand railings. The fox appeared and glared at her and then at the three raccoon pups. She smiled innocently and he sighed. She had always done whatever she wanted.

He himself had once been saved by her, just as she picked up these children. He was a criminal. A demon who angered the Gods with his cruelty and power and was to be killed for it. He had been sitting alone in his cell when the forest deity made him her familiar and halted his execution. Amazingly enough, he became submissive to her the very next day. He had challenged her to a fight, for the only way a familiar can be freed is if the deity that owns him dies. The fox had been beaten to within an inch of his life. She never broke a sweat and he never questioned her again. She was powerful and power was something he could understand.I

t was another hundred years before the Goddess saw humans again. They came dressed in orange and riding in loud machines, but she was so happy to see her beloved humans again, that she ran to them without caution. She was stunned to find that not a single one of them could see her. Her pure white hair and ghastly pale skin gave her a transparent glow, but even then she was still visible, however, she was only visible to people who believed she was there. These men couldn’t see her. Distraught and lonely, she returned to her temple and cried. The raccoons tried to cheer her up and the fox gave a pitiful effort, though she refused to come out of her room. The humans had abandoned her.

The next day, she returned to try again, for quitting wasn’t part of her nature, though when she arrived, she found something horribly disturbing. Her trees were gone. She stood there, baffled, unable to believe what she saw. Only stumps were left, cut too cleanly to have been and animal, there was no burn marks to suggest a fire and yet they were gone.

A rabbit, more skittish and frightened then usually, hopped up to her and told her some terrifying news. The humans were destroying the forest. The deity’s heart fell into her stomach. Not only had the humans forgotten her, but they came to destroy the only thing she had left, and the only thing the forest animals have ever known.

Her pure white hair burned red as blood, but her eyes stayed watery and sad. She had always loved the humans. She had always watched over their harvests and protected them in the forests, from disease, and war, but humans saw only themselves. She turned on her heal and stormed back to her temple.

The fox raised an eyebrow when he saw her hair had turned to fire as tears streamed down her porcelain skin. She stopped in the middle of the rotting floorboards and screamed. Her heart had been caught in the cruel grasp of the humans. The fox made his way to her side and caught her when she collapsed, her hair returning to its original soft, fluffy, white. She cried on his shoulder as he held her calmly.

He had known this day would come. He saw humans for the greedy creatures they were, though he wasn’t surprised that his master had the utmost faith in them, until today. The fox waited for a moment before proposing his idea. “Why don’t we stop them?” he asked.

His deity stopped crying and looked up at him, blinking as though she didn’t know the language he used. “Stop them? How?” she asked, pulling away from him just enough to see his face.

“Human’s are stubborn beasts. There’s only one way to stop them,” he said, his voice soft as though afraid of offending her.

“What are you trying to say?” she snarled, though she already knew the answer.

“Humans should be slaughtered,” the fox barked, ignoring his deity’s pained expression.

“I could never do such a thing,” she whispered.

“Then I will. I will kill whomever you ask,” he said, bowing respectfully.

“I cannot ask something so horrible of you,” she sighed, looking away. The fox knew he should stop talking, and so shut his mouth.

The raccoons lingered quietly in the doorway, stunned and just as angry at the humans as the fox, although they’d never met one. They pushed and shoved each other for a better view until the deity turned and smiled at them. “I will not condone violence,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t play some games.” The little raccoons grinned at each other and ran to her side to hear their master’s plan.

A construction worker, eating his lunch, watched the dirt that stretched out in front of him, thinking of a job well done.

“Good sir,” a small child’s voice called out from the woods behind him.

He spun around, but saw no one. He scratched his head, shrugged, and decided he’d been hearing things, though when he turned back to gaze at the miles of dirt, he jumped and nearly fell from the log he’d been sitting on. A little girl, no older than five stood in front of him, teary eyed and frightened. “

What the… What are you doing here?” he asked after composing himself again.

The girl gave no answer.

“Look, where’s your mom? This isn’t a place for little kids, you could get hurt,” the man said. He was glancing around awkwardly looking for a mother he somehow knew wouldn’t be there.

This child was dressed in a kimono of bright autumn leaves, and her hair and makeup were that of a geisha. “Where’s my home?” the little girl asked as tears spilled over her white cheeks.

He sighed and leaned in. “Where do you live, little girl?” he grumbled. He had better things to do with his time than babysit a little girl. But he hated when women cried, no matter their age.

“I just came home from my journey through the stars to find that my home is gone,” the little girl wailed.

“The stars?” the man asked quietly, as though doubting her sanity.

“Why is my home gone?” she cried. Before the man had a chance to say anything, the little girl screamed such a high pitched wail that the man had to cover his ears. The wind whipped violently, tugging on the man’s clothing and knocking his lunch box from the log where it had rested beside him. The wind was strong, but it didn’t touch the little girl. Her hair was still perfect, her silk kimono smooth and lovely. The man’s eyes widened despite the wind when he saw the child’s pure white hands. She wasn’t wearing the makeup of a geisha.

That was her skin.

“S-Spirit!” the man shouted, terrified, and the child stopped screaming. “Spirit! I’m sorry that we destroyed your home! Please, forgive us!” he shouted, sliding from the log and falling to his knees in a formal bow.

The child stopped her tears and patted him on the head, before grabbing him by the hair and yanking his face to look up at her. “This is where you humans belong. Bowing in the dirt,” she hissed and threw his face back down to the Earth with one powerful shove. He sat there trembling until he dare take a peak. He glanced up to see the child was gone, but in her place lay a dead snake, coiled around as though it were only sleeping.

The man jumped back, startled by the bad omen. The snake rested in a patch of blue bells that had also appeared from nowhere.

The next day, the man and all his friends who’d witnessed the strange phenomenon packed up and left.

The deity cheered and held the fox’s hand above his head in victory, for he, being a transforming fox, had played the role of the little girl. They danced and laughed all night, celebrating their triumph, but the morning brought a calm sadness, and another load of workers.

“We forgot how stupid the humans are,” the fox hissed, watching the men hop out of the van. When the deity said nothing, he turned to see silent tears roll down her cheeks as another tree fell, killing the baby squirrels that lived inside.

“Watch this,” she heard one of the men say as he threw a rock into the forest.

The deity stood perplexed, until he returned with a stunned fox in his hand, held up by the poor creature’s tale. The fox familiar hissed and crouched, though before he had a chance, his master glided past him. She walked up to the men, who were still unable to see her and whispered, “My baby. Has anyone seen my baby?” Her voice was smooth and shallow, sending cold silver down their spines.

“Did you guys hear that?” one man asked and they all looked around franticly for some explanation. That’s when they saw her. She had made her hair black and wore the makeup and eerily calm expression of a geisha, just like the little girl. The men jumped back, startled. They had been unable to see her until she spoke, giving them a reason to look for her.

“What do you think you’re doing here?!” one man shouted, but she gave no reply. She held her hands out gently for the fox and lifted him into her arms. The man who’s been holding it let the tail slip through his fingers.

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, dressed in a black silk kimono with the soft light of fireflies dotting the gown. If the men hadn’t known better, they’d say the gown was glowing.

“Where is my dear baby girl?” the deity asked again, glancing up at the men.

“Guys,” one of the men hissed, his face white with fear. “Do you remember what the other guys told us?” he whispered, though the deity could hear him very well.

“The crazy ones?” another man asked, skeptically. The deity looked around until her eyes rested on a little patch of flowers. “

Blue bells, those are my daughters favorite,” the deity sighed. The men suddenly grew stiff. I

n a moment, the deity would see the dead snake that no one had wanted to move. She would scream and hold the fox closer to her. She would let her rage go wild and her hair would burst into living flames, untamed and angry. The men would run or bow at her feet and grovel until she too disappeared, cursing them as the wind turned her to dust and carried her away, but it didn’t matter. Even if these men left, there’d be a shipment of more tomorrow.

“This isn’t working, it isn’t working!” the raccoons chorused.

“We have to kill some,” the fox argued, but he was ignored by a cheerless woman.

“Look,” he sighed, “humans aren’t like other animals and they aren’t like us. They’re the real demons.” His deity smiled up at him, thanking him for the crude support when she glanced out the window.

“Alright, it’s late. You three need to sleep,” she said addressing the droopy eyed raccoons. Even though a hundred years past, they didn’t look any older, nor were they, for Gods age very slowly if at all.

She ushered them to bed and returned to her place on the rotting floor beside the fox.

“You must leave,” the fox said quietly after a long silence.

“What?” the deity asked, stunned. Although her face was set in surprise, her eyes held a pained anger at knowing what he was going to tell her.

“There’s no way the humans will give up. You must escape,” he pleaded.

“I will do no such thing,” she snapped, angry that he’d ask something so cowardly of her. He looked away, flushed and angry. She was the only thing in his world worth protecting and she refused him.

That’s when a strange smell wafted through the air. It reminded him of the old village people, though he didn’t understand what it was until he saw the flames in the corner of the temple, creeping up the wall. “Fire!” he shouted as the wall burst into red hot flame.

“Why is it burning so fast?!” the deity cried, too terrified to move. “Those cowards must have used an accelerant. They’re too frightened to face something they claim they don’t believe in,” the fox growled, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her to her feet.

“You have to get out of here!” he shouted, but she was just staring at the wall of flame as tears collected in her eyes. “I loved them. I swore to protect them and then I turned on them. This is my punishment,” she whispered, still not moving. T

he fox slapped her. Hard. “Wha-?!” she blinked up at him, a red mark forming on her cheek. “You were nothing but kind to them. You took care of them, so much so that the other deities became concerned that your actions would put them in danger, but you still saved that sick child. She’s been dead a long time, but she never forgot you,” he said, tapping her silver necklace. “She left without-” “I chased her away. You would only have been sad if she’d spoken with you,” he admitted. In a flash of anger, she returned the slap he’d given her. “I wanted to see her,” she hissed. “I understand that now and I’m sorry, but right now we have more pressing issues,” he said, glancing up to see the ceiling had caught fire as well.

He took her by the hand and ran. He could see the door when a cracking noise made him slow ever so slightly. That’s when the ceiling fell. “

No!” the deity screamed, staring at where her beloved fox had once been. The ceiling had collapsed and he’d pushed her out of the way. She began clawing at the wood, tearing her smooth fingers as she ripped away the fallen timber. When he was visible, she dragged him out and rested his head on her lap. “

Wake up. Please wake up!” she wailed, but there was no answer. Crying, she dragged him to the door and out onto the wet grass. “Hey! Hey! Wake up!” she screamed. He coughed and wheezed without waking, though it was enough to convince the deity he was going to be alright.

She sat up and something struck her, twisting her stomach in knots.

The raccoons weren’t outside. Without a moment’s hesitation she rushed back inside, jumping over the rubble and clambering through the places where the roof had collapsed. She covered her mouth with the sleeve of her gown and coughed. The one thing a forest deity has no power against, is fire.

She finally found them, cowering in a corner, crying and shaking. “Come here!” she called, and they ran to her, clinging to her skirts and sobbing. She collected them in her arms and ran.

She wasn’t sure where the exit was anymore for the fire completely changed the layout of the temple, but eventually she saw the door. A creaking could be heard and the deity knew exactly how this was going to end. She whispered a quick protection charm on the children and tossed them all through the door. They all shouted in horror as they watched a beam fall on their precious Goddess.

She mumbled something and the raccoons couldn’t get through the door, coated in her charm, to help her. Smoke curled out the door and soon it was so thick, they couldn’t see her soft white curls any longer.

The fox woke to a pounding headache as though he’d had far too much to drink the night before. It took him a minute to remember what had happened, but when he saw the raccoons crying, and the temple reduced to nothing more than charred ash, he leapt to his feet, broke the weak charm she’d cast on the door and charged inside. He called for her until his voice was horse, but she was nowhere to be found.

He was about to leave to search outside when something caught his eye. It was sparkly, though hidden in ash. The fox picked it up and wiped the ash away with his thumb.

It was a silver necklace with an opal in the center.

Tears came to the fox’s eyes, but he quickly blinked them back. He walked solemnly out of the temple and past the raccoons without so much as a word.

“Where are you going?” they called, but he didn’t answer them. His heart had shattered.

The construction was halted soon after that.

Many workers died of mysterious causes and due to a cry from the people, the project was abandoned. Some people believe that it was the destruction of the forest temple that caused the accents.

No one knows for sure, but whenever a man was killed, there would always be a fox, sitting just at the edge of the forest, watching, waiting for someone else to try to take away the place where he was once happy, and where the woman he loved had died.