19. Bírog

Despite the apparent endlessness of the forest, I keep walking. I did not step into the Otherworld only to curl up in despair, thwarted by haunted trees. There is a myriad of tales about forests that are not forests, forests that lead astray, forests that are home to less-than-kind spirits. But I have decided that this is not one of those. I have decided that this forest is just a steppingstone on the path toward Niamh.

Time passes in a way that is unmeasurable. The thick trees let in little sunlight and there is no way to find my bearings, so I tell the time by my body instead. Feeding it when my stomach grumbles. Drinking when my throat is parched. Resting when my legs can no longer carry me. Amid clamouring branches, I have found a fragile path to follow, perhaps created by hare or fox. There are no other leads, so I have decided that this is the right path.

My imagination threatens to steal my sanity. Every rustling sound, each distant hoot or caw, my mind twists into a voice. You do not belong here. Is what I saw in the scrying bowl a self-fulfilling prophecy? Would I hear those words whispered on the wind if I had not already heard them in a vision? What is real?

Abruptly, after what might have been hours or days, the forest ends. I am dazzled by the warm afternoon sun that streams across my skin as I step into the open. So used to endless trees, I find myself dazed in this new environment, unsure of whether or where to go on.

"Child, you are lost. Stop and rest awhile."

For a moment I think I have imagined this voice too. But I turn to find a small being no taller than my waist standing beside me. Though the size of a child, she appears to be an old woman, with something not quite human about her. She is almost hidden by shawls and scarves, and a necklace of feathers and tiny skulls catches my eye. I recognise it as an emblem of sorts, perhaps one an Otherworldly wise woman might wear.

"Sit. Rest," the being says, gesturing to a moss-covered rock I had not noticed.

"I am not a child," I protest, irritated by my long journey, but I do as I am told.

The wise woman twists her mouth in what might be a smile. "In years, perhaps, but in wisdom, you have much to learn." As I seat myself on soft moss, the being takes my hand. "Tell me, child, what it is you seek in such an unforgiving forest."

I see no way forward but to tell the truth. "I am looking for a friend. She is lost and I must find her. I think she may be in danger."

"A friend?" She meets my gaze. "From the human realm, as you are?" I nod. "And yet, not fully human…"

Sudden hope bursts within me and my tired limbs come to life again. "Have you met her? Where is she? Is she safe?"

"Hush, child. I only know what my daily augury has been telling me each morning for the past week. And a few too many tales."

This response raises more questions than provides answers, but the being forestalls them before they escape my lips.

"Before we can discuss such things, you need rest and food and a bath. You are strong, but you have travelled far, and the forest has taken its toll."

"She may be in danger," I protest, weakly.

The small wise woman gives me a sympathetic look. "And you are in no fit state to get your friend out of it. Come. If you can walk a little further, you will stay in my home where I can tend to you."

I allow myself to feel how exhausted my body is and decide this is an offer I cannot refuse. "Thank you, that would be much appreciated, Mistress…"

She turns her strange eyes on me. "I am Mother Ash. And you are?"

"Bírog. It's a pleasure to meet you."