I open my eyes, looking up at the shadowy thatch above me. I’m in a wooden hut, simply built and furnished. This’ll be my home for the next however many days I stay here.
Outside, the sun is low, but bright, and it’s already warm. I have my new bag on my back, the plait of wool – carefully removed from the old bag and the keyring – is tied securely around my wrist. Caramel-orange, electric blue, earthy greenish brown. Alys, Jessie, and me. I don’t trust my bag or pockets to protect it. My last tie to my family.
I arrived in the village late at night, having hitched a lift from the airport with one of the younger residents. They’re eager for the Forest to be mapped, so they can safely use it. It’s the older generation who are afraid, holding onto their fears and superstitions, reluctant to trust the Forest. They tut and shake their heads when the young men talk of mapping it, muttering warnings to me while I gather my supplies. Stocked with food for two days and water for four – I mean to return today, but it pays to be prepared – I approach the treeline, stopping a few metres short of the fence surrounding the village.
The village elder, a white-haired, wizened old woman, waits for me. She has so far been silent about the issue, but now she adds her warnings to the others.
“Ai Talyugaachi is danger. She not like intruders. You do well to stay away.” She nods gravely, clutching my arm. “But, you insist. So I give you advice. Remember where you came from.”
I nod, assure her I won’t lose my way. I’ll be making a map as I go along; I can just follow it back, whenever I choose! She tuts, but doesn’t protest, merely saying “mmm. Choose well,” before hobbling away towards the village. I turn towards the Forest. The trees shade me, the smell of the warm earth and plants quell my remaining apprehensions. Oh, how I missed this!
I pat my pockets, feeling the outline of paper, pencil, compass, ready to map this unseen land. Reassured, I step between two trees, into the Forest.
Mapping the Infinite Forest: Day 1
And just like that, I’m home again. Oh, how I’d missed this! The air is cool on my face, a faint breeze ruffling the leaves on the trees and bushes. The whole Forest feels alive, quivering with readiness, as the wind sighs again. I look up into the canopy towering above me, jewel-bright birds flitting around the trees, calling to each other, a freedom that I haven’t felt for so long. I’m finally where I belong, and I don’t want to leave.
As I walk, I’m noting down distinguishing landscape features on my bare map. There aren’t many. The trees are all similar, straight-backed and silvery. The only rocks are small, half-buried in the solid ground and hidden beneath decades of leaf litter. I try to keep a straight line, but it’s difficult as I have to forge a path between the trees and around the frequent dense thickets of bushes. My plan today is to go in a short way, turn so I’m parallel to the village and continue that way for a bit, then turn back towards it, creating an area to be explored more thoroughly tomorrow.
Small creatures skitter away from me through the undergrowth. Birds call urgent warnings before taking flight. Unused to humans, they’re disturbed by my presence. I come to a larger rock, jutting out of the forest floor like an old tooth. This is where I turn; it’s identifiable enough to be a clear marker for the boundary I’m creating today. The village is already well out of sight. I check my watch. It’s been three hours or so since I left. The sun is higher, but hidden behind the leafy treetops – the only indication of its position is the angle of the shadows slanting across the floor, which shorten gradually as I keep walking, then extend the other way.
A fallen tree has created a clearing up ahead. The perfect landmark, well timed in my walk. I should get back to the village long before sundown from here, so I stop for a minute, taking in the quiet beauty of this place. Sunbeams illuminate the clearing, making the leaves glow. The fallen tree is broad and sturdy, and I walk across it, like I would’ve done with Jessie, holding her hand so she doesn’t fall. She’d love this clearing, would run around playing until it was time to move on. I touch the plait at my wrist as my vision blurs. Time to move on.
I turn back towards the village, walking through the trees as straight as I can manage, noting down anything that can be used to find the way. It’s been a long day, and I’m eager for my bed in the little hut. Surely it can’t be that long now?
This walk is taking longer than I expected. It’s definitely been longer than the walk in. Darkness has begun to envelop me, and I’m getting worried. Most predators are active at night, and there’s no reason for there not to be things big enough – and hungry enough – to eat a man in here. Animals aside, the temperature is dropping fast. I fish my torch out of one pocket, and my compass out of another. I should be heading West. I hold it flat, waiting for the point to settle.
It doesn’t settle, but keeps spinning uselessly in circles. I turn helplessly, deciding to head back the way I came and camp out in that clearing. I retrace my steps, following as many of the landmarks as I can see in the narrow beam of my torch, walking until the barely-there moon is overhead, but with no sign of the clearing I am forced to stop. I must’ve missed something in the dark.
I set down my pack, touch the plait around my wrist, and wait for morning.
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