Tamesin

Spring in the forest, the rising sap bringing renewal to trees dormant throughout a wet, cold winter. The sound of Canadian geese migrating north filled the air. In the dense newly greening forest, the Douglas firs soaring a hundred feet into the sky with their deep green needles created the canopy for the Western red cedar whose aromatic smells permeated the gloaming. The smell of cedar, pine and salt water drifted on the chilling evening air. A hemlock stood close enough to the fir trees that Tamesin could reach out her hand and touch it. Dew fell upon the salal reflecting light green like jeweled trout swimming in the nearby stream while sword ferns dominated the understory landscape in this dense Pacific Northwest forest. Not far stood a big leaf maple tree, one of a few scattered throughout the forest. Its leaves large and lighter green shaded her from the drops that drifted down from the canopy. Soon it would be full dark. Tamesin looked forward to it, here among her parent trees and the ground cover and the ferns. This was her home. She felt reluctant, scared even to have to leave here. 

In May, the forest had reached a decision. While it teemed with new life, each tree had agreed to create her, give her a part of each of their spring burgeoning lives. She began as a small white oak tree nestled in the middle of the vast forest. The oldest and wisest white oak had lifted its roots clear out of the ground, an effort which took half a day which it used to shape a form as human-like as it could. While the mated pair of barred owls hoot-hooted overhead, the others contributed roots and bark. The Douglas firs gave her skin that gray-brown color and shaggy texture, though she had been working on smoothing out the bark of her skin. The cedars added their bark to form shaggy hair a burnished red. That process had tired her out almost as much as yanking out her own roots to form two legs for walking. She stumbled a lot at first until she had the hang of it, kind of. At three days old, Tamesin was as exhausted as the trees in the forest who had contributed to her birthing. She would stay here until she could conquer the odd sensation of walking and her fear of having no roots safely tucked into the warm, giving earth. Each hour that passed she became more disconnected from her family, her cousins, her community. She didn’t know if she could conquer this loneliness, this oneness. She shook herself; cedar needles dropped from her head. Well, that wouldn’t do. She concentrated but fatigue took over and she dropped to the ground in oblivion, safely tucked into the old oak tree’s base. 

When she awakened, birds trilled in full melody. The sun shone down with bright shafts of light breaking up the fog of an early summer morning in the forest. Her whole birthing process had taken over two months, trees being not particularly mobile. But by July, Tamesin felt gloriously rested. The forest had fed her on nutrients and sugars when she slept. She lifted her face to the sun sending her roots in the soil. Remembering she had feet that would not grow underground to touch other roots and commune with the forest as a whole, Temesin felt disconnected but determined. She had agreed to this, and she had a job to do. She had to learn all she could about the walkers who come into the forests to commune with them sometimes, but more often to burn them out or cut them down. When the old ones figured out that the walkers could not hear their screams when they were massacred, they dreamed a different plan. Tamesin. She knew they were proud of her sacrifice, but they worried for her. Yet, it was time. Standing to her full height, eight feet, she shambled forward on tender new feet, green eyes forward, like the walkers. Would she ever get used to this? 

She slogged toward the end of the forest. If she were going to be a walker, she had to learn to move faster than this. But genetics kept her movements slow until she relearned how to perceive the world through new eyes. When she finally ambled down the ridge, she lost the view of the ocean and the solace of the sound of waves gently lapping the shore and the smell of newly formed ozone. The trees became sparce, touching her with their tender leaves as she walked out of the forest. 

The meadow ahead frightened her. There was so much space, Tamesin became disoriented. But in the distance on the opposite side of the meadow, stood a cottage, snugged inside a garden of columbine and irises and wild roses. A trail of smoke which smelled like a cut cedar rose from the chimney which further scared her. She didn’t like fire. Maybe she could cross over to it and stand still in the garden to get a feel of the place and whatever walkers lived inside. She had to start somewhere. When she reached the garden, she stood absolutely still trying to blend in with the cedar bushes on the left side of the plot of ground.

The life outside the cottage felt serene, peaceful even. It lulled her to relax, letting her arms droop to her sides like branches heavy with moisture. So focused on a hummingbird all tiny green feathers flashing around her and landing briefly on her branch-like arms that she didn’t notice the face that peaked at her through the window. She could live in this garden nestled next to the great forest while she learned to manage this nascent walker body. She felt a little less frightened. But what did walkers do when they weren’t enjoying or ravishing the forest? 

“Hello.”

Tamesin froze, swaying slightly in the summer breeze. Afraid to move, she searched the area with her new green eyes. Whatever made the sound came closer.

“Hello.”

In front of her stood an older woman, craggy face, blue eyes, dull red hair salted with gray. Her clothes were soft brown pants and a light green hoodie. At least that’s what Tamesin thought, though she wasn’t quite sure of the terminology or even why the walkers wore clothing. The woman didn’t seem threatening even though she was spreading her lips wide and her teeth showed. Was that scary or friendly? Tamesin stood, still, silent. Maybe the woman would go away. It was too soon for her. She just wanted to observe.

“You’re welcome to stay in my garden as long as you like.”

Tamesin thought that sounded promising. Maybe. Maybe.

“You rather resemble a tree except trees don’t walk about on two legs.”

The woman seemed kind, so Tamesin took a chance. She swallowed hard trying to vocalize. Her throat felt scratchy with the attempt. But she managed to rasp out a reply. “I am the forest.”

The woman’s eyes widened but Tamesin didn’t see fright. She discerned curiosity and a bit of awe. She cocked her head to one side waiting to see what the woman would do. But the woman just stood there sizing up Tamesin until she made some kind of decision then nodded her head.

The woman reached out her arm pointing to a bench that nestled beside the house. “My name is Bridget and I live here. I love living near the forest. Would you care to sit down with me and tell me how you came to be here?”

Tamesin wondered what the woman meant. Why would she want to do anything but stand?  “Sit?”

Bridget crinkled her brows as she ambled toward the bench. “It’s what people do.”

Tamesin tried crinkling her brows, but her bark creaked instead. “People?”

Bridget stopped. “People. I am a person.”  She blinked. “Actually, I am a type of person, a witch really.” She stumbled over a fallen branch. “A white witch, of course. Only the white witches are allowed to stay in this cottage cause sometimes we just need to get away from the city and enjoy some solitude to renew ourselves and our magic by connecting to the land.” Bridget sat neatly on the bench crossing her legs at the ankle and stared up at Tamesin. “Would you like a cup of tea, perhaps?”

Tamesin could understand needing to renew by connecting to the land. Puzzled, she took one step closer to Bridget.  “Tea?”

“Oh, my stars, you do need to learn an awful lot about humans. And before you ask what humans are, they are the ones who have hiked in this forest before. Sometimes they cut down trees.”

Tamesin shook her head, “The walkers.”

“Yes, I suppose.” Bridget indicated to Tamesin to sit on the bench again. I rather think you need someone to help you understand the ‘walkers’ is what you call them?

Tamesin nodded her head. Some bark fell off. 

“Well, we could talk more and see if I can help you learn and maybe, you can help me too. What do you think?”

Bridget indicated with her hand the spot beside her on the bench. “Please.”

Tamesin picked up one ponderous foot after another and stood beside the bench facing the forest. Sitting seemed like a step too much.

The woman waited for a beat and then stood up beside Tamesin both gazing at the forest. “Is that home for you?” Bridget asked.

“Home” 

Bridget was quiet, thinking, then turned to Tamesin.  “It must be a very important reason for you to leave your home and walk out of the forest.”

Tamesin listened to the woman while sap leaked from her new eyes, but only for a moment.  “We need to learn.”

They stood silently for a while contemplating the forest until Bridget turned to Tamesin. “I can help you with that,” and reached out to hold Tamesin’s branch-like hand.