4.

There is a loud crack overhead as a large branch snaps from its trunk and begins its free fall towards the ground roughly 5 metres away from where Echo stands.

“I told you not to make me mad, just go!” I yell turning my back on her and starting in the other direction. She doesn’t listen; instead she storms up behind me and grabs me by the arm.

“You’re not listening to me Elsie. LISTEN. You don’t know what you’re doing; you need to stay away from him. He’s a human; they’re bad news.”

This is the first real argument Echo and I have had in centuries, the first time she has used any sort of aggression towards me. I know I should feel afraid – Echo is rumoured to be the fiercest nymphet since Daphne: a huntress who speared and tore apart a suitor who disguised himself as a female nymph to join her hunting party – and yet, all I feel is rage (an extremely uncommon emotion for most nymphs). Who is she to tell me what I can or can’t do?
It’s not like I want to run away with him. I just want to talk. She doesn’t understand what it’s like to be alone, to be the only one who doesn’t fit in with the norm, to be a freak. I need this, I need to know what’s out there away from the woods and mountains and lakes. I need to talk to someone who isn’t programmed with this uniform desire to protect and stay in one place. I need to experience real interaction with someone who can’t just read the thoughts straight out of my head, read them but not really understand them.
My arm is beginning to bruise under her grip but she doesn’t loosen her hold, she stares unflinchingly into my eyes her own displaying a myriad of colours like that of the ocean besieged by a storm. I can see her resolution beginning to break. I’m not going to give in, I think. She sighs, “Fine have it your way.” She releases my arm and runs off, darting through the trees, moving so fast she’s a blur. I don’t know where she’s going but I know it can’t be good; she never gives in this easy.
I return to my favourite part of the woods, the clearing where Echo and I had lay before the boy showed up. I can’t stop thinking about him; it is almost nightfall and I can’t help but wait for tomorrow, for his return.
He will return. He must, I know it – he likes her, she fascinates him and it is in human nature to go to any lengths to satisfy their curiosity. Tomorrow, however, will not be hers, I will station myself by the lake all night and all the next day if I have to; I have never wanted anything more than I want to talk to him right now. This worries me; it could go badly I know; he may not like me, what if he thinks I’m Echo and doesn’t speak to me because he’s still angry with her? What if he sees me sitting here and decides not to get off his bike but to ride past and go home?
My thoughts are a confused blur, each question whizzing around relentlessly without an answer, along with the image of his enchanting figure riding off along the dirt track, clouds of dust rising in his wake. I know he will be thinking about her and this hurts me more than I can explain, though I reason that it is because I know the hurt he will suffer by her hand if he is to see her again.
“Elsie?” a familiar voice rings out from the woods nearby. I look up and see Zane picking his way through the teeming undergrowth of the wood towards my clearing. Zane, like me, is a land nymph assigned to the glens below the mountain, we have grown up together and he often comes to visit me.
I feel a familiar pang of guilt as he strides closer, a warm smile lighting his face. Zane has been in love with me for half a century and I haven’t yet been able to return the sentiment. To be perfectly honest, I’m not even sure what it means; I have never experienced it. Love for me consists only of my feelings towards my surroundings and my friends. I have never known or even seen the love that exists between a male and a female nor do I long to have it.
The males in my race, Zane included, are cut from the same cloth – they share the same thoughts and feelings, they understand only one thing – the environment and their desire to protect it. It’s not that I don’t like Zane, I do, it’s just that… well, I’ve said it before: he doesn’t understand me
Zane is probably the most caring and passionate person I know. He attends to his duties in such a zealous manner that he is world-renowned amongst our people as the best caretaker in existence and his affability has earned him the respect and love of all creatures in our land. He is so attuned to nature that even his appearance seems to mirror it; he has a mossy beard that grows thick and auburn across his strong jaw, his hair is soft and free-flowing like a cascade of autumn leaves and his body is sharp and chiselled like the peaks of the mountain under whose shadow he dwells.
“Why so glum honey-oak?” he chimes happily. I smile despite myself, honey-oak? Really? He chuckles reading the thought. “Seemed cooler in my head,” he shrugs insouciantly. So what did you do? He thinks at me. I look confused.
“What do you mean”? I ask.
“Well, I just saw Echo and the elders coming this way and they seemed sort of…annoyed?” his voice rises at the end as if he’s asking a question. I look up at him stricken, so that was what she’s up to. “Wow, so you did do something to upset them?” He sounds awed. I roll my eyes. I don’t know, kind of, I guess, maybe? I think uncertainly, I mean I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong yet; I haven’t even spoken to him and even if I did it’s not exactly against the law.
“Who’s him?” Zane asks, once again an intruder in my mind. Instinctively I cut off my memories from today blocking them from his view.
“No-one,” I respond cagily, I don’t understand why I feel so guilty, like a child who has just been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Zane looks puzzled at both my tone and the mental wall I have just built to impede his search for the information in my head but before he can ask, we hear the approach of a large party – Echo and the elders.
It is by now well within the dead of night and though my clearing is well lit with the soft light of more than a dozen lanterns perched precariously on many well placed branches and toadstools, the encircling woods are almost pitch black with the density of the trees. Through them and to the right of the clearing we can see the warm glow of torches approaching and the occasional snap of a twig as they march steadily towards us. I feel my heart accelerate and I can sense Zane’s eyes on my face but I try to keep my head blank; he can judge my crimes for himself when they get here.
The outfit steps gravely into the clearing, it consists of four elders and Echo. I look at her, feeling both wounded and shocked that she would take such harsh steps for such a small crime. I don’t understand what’s wrong with her.
The elders are all dressed in long ochre robes, they are – as their name suggests – the eldest male nymphs of our tribe and they are thus accosted with the duty to watch over and protect our people. They are not brought into matters lightly. I have never before been to an elder’s trial and have thus seen them only from afar. Contrary to my thoughts, they appear as what would be, in human years, middle-aged; their faces are not wizened and their hair grows not grey but blonde and brown and black. None look angry and yet my head is bowed in a sort of reverent shame as I steal glances at them from under my eyelashes.
Be at ease, my child, we are only here to talk. They are thinking in unison as they move closer to where I stand with Zane. The one with blonde hair motions to another who in turn passes him his torch, he moves back to the outer edge of trees and speaks to a branch, which obligingly bends towards him and takes both torches, holding them against it’s trunk like a bracket. The others sit in a semi-circle amongst a patch of narcissus and indicate for the rest of us to join. I step hesitantly towards them and place myself as far away as is polite. Echo hangs behind them looking awkward and out of place (a feat not easily managed by her). Zane comes and sits at the side in gap between me and the elders giving Echo the excuse to sit opposite him – still not really choosing a side.
You seem confused, they note, do not worry, we have only come to advise you, there are things you don’t know – things that Echo does. She has asked us to tell you about them. It is not all of them speaking now but the one who sits directly opposite me; he has jet black hair and his face, though undeniably handsome, seems weathered slightly – he must be from the mountain.
“Our story starts long ago, in the days before technology and urbanisation; a time in which we lived in harmony with our human brothers.” He speaks aloud, his voice deep and wistful, both Zane and I look perplexed.
“ It is often said that in this time, it is not they, but we who ruled the land. It was a time when mythology and real life merged into one seamless existence; it was not then thought necessary to hide our existence from others. The humans lived in villages, happy and secluded, leaving us to the forests and fields and mountains. In turn we allowed them land on which to farm and grow and live and the occasional company of our tribe. Our females were fond of their men and the men were fond of them in return, they often came in search of nymphets to keep them company and we were only too glad to indulge. Fairies flit constantly over the land, dragons dwelled upon mountaintops and elves built colonies in the countrysides. It seemed that we had created an infallible bridge between the races, a way in which we could all meet our needs and still live peacefully. It became an unspoken pact, the humans would leave us to protect nature and all others and we would let them use the land to live.” He pauses and another picks up the story.
“We were, however, betrayed. It is within their nature to consume all that they can and then move on; they began to expand rapidly, to advance their machinery. They developed tools to aid their expansion and feed their people but all at the cost of our planet. They turned on all, crusading against the dragons, capturing and using the fairies for their own mean, warring with the elves, until all became extinct. Their women began to turn on us with hate, our females were called whores, sirens who tricked the men into being with them even though it had been their men who had sworn to love and honour and cherish our kind. Slowly the bridge began to crumble. The relations between our kind and theirs were becoming extinct; we ceased to exist to them – a myth, a fairytale, not real. They continued to consume the land, moving from one place to another destroying all in their path. The earth was consumed with war, the ceaseless battle to protect what was rightfully ours, and then came the weaponry – guns and tanks and planes. The realisation was made, we cannot stop them, our homes have been destroyed and our people lessened, we have now only to hope for survival.”
“You are taught as a youngling never to trust the humans, to stay away from them at all costs, you are given the general idea but never taught why.” Another begins, “ Mankind are a burden on this planet, they hold nothing sacred, they are savage beasts that are out solely for their own gain. Nothing is held sacred in their eyes; they have extinguished whole races of beings and still do not relent. Know this my child; learn from it. Do not get involved with such beings, they will only hurt you”
Everyone falls silent, the atmosphere is somber and tears lie stagnant in my eyes. Maybe he’s not like that. I think, unable to control the impulse. Echo’s head snaps up and she glares at me furiously.
“How can you listen to that and still doubt what I said, he IS trouble” She growls. Zane shifts uncomfortably and clears his throat while the elders hold their gaze solemnly from Echo to me. She can still hear the doubt in my head and it feeds her anger. “Fine, if that wasn’t enough, if you think that’s the only danger they hold, I have another story for you.” Her voice has a steely edge, reluctant but determined, the elders look surprised. You do not have to share this story if it is against your wishes Echo, they think. Echo sighs but continues to glare at me. No she needs to hear this.
“Centuries ago there was a wood nymph who lived in Greece. She fell in love with a human, he was the most beautiful man in the land but he was vain and cruel and incapable of equalling such an emotion. He shunned the nymph cold-heartedly though she loved him more than words could do justice; heartbroken she fled to the mountains where it is said she spent the remainder of her days, pining for the love of a man who cared nothing for her, until she wasted away and became one with the mountain.”
I fail to see the significance, it seems to me like just another story made by the nymphs to emphasise the unworthy nature of humans and so I wonder why they all look so grave. Echo sees that I do not understand and she is again infuriated. Do you want that to happen to you? Just stay away from him he’s bad news, she yells internally. But I don’t love him, I wont love him, I don’t even know what love is. I argue back. Echo screams aloud startling the birds nearby, it is by now late into the morning and the sky is a light, cloudy blue. Echo wrenches herself up from her seat and whirlwinds out of the clearing. I begin to run after her but I can still hear the thoughts of those behind me.
She’s already in love with him. It belongs to Zane and it is full of pain.
I look back but continue my pursuit; I know where she’ll go, back to the lake – to wait for him, to get to him before I do. I arrive too late; he is already there, lying on the grass. He feels at one with nature, at home, I smile despite my urgency – he’s not like other humans, I think. Echo has darted past him unseen, she steals his bike leaving him no means of escape. I see her up ahead and run after her. She sees me approach and steps out onto the bank warily, speaking to him as she does. I stop in my tracks, should I go out? Will he be glad for interruption or annoyed? I am torn between the instinct to protect him and my need to preserve his good will towards myself so that I can learn more about him, about the world.
Meanwhile Echo has moved closer to him, poking him with her foot, I grit my teeth, don’t hurt him, I think. Fine but only if he leaves, she retorts. She tells him to go but he replies with a question. I can see her patience wearing thin; she bellows a response her anger making her tap into her control of the surroundings, making her shake the trees.
I can hear something approaching from the distance, it sounds like an animal, she hears it too and pauses to listen. The realisation hits us both at the same time. I am going to leave him here, if you want to die too, fine, stay, it’ll be less painful like this anyway, she thinks before flitting away. I stand frozen in horror, do I save him or do I run? I don’t even know him I should save myself, they’re wrong, I don’t love him, I should leave him to die. My knees feel weak, why can’t I move? Move, please, MOVE I think desperately. He seems to be doing a better job of that than me, he runs for his bike but it’s not there; Echo has already taken it, he wheels around lost, looking for the direction of Echo but without real hope. I start forward without conscious thought but before I have reached the bank, it gets there first, careening towards the boy and bowling him off his feet, dragging him into the lake.
I don’t have time to think about it, I sprint forward and dive headfirst into the water. The boy is unconscious and it is dragging him through the water to the other shore. I shoot forward and launch myself at its head, growing my fingers into sharp talons to claw at its eyes. I catch it by surprise and hold it’s head in a vice-like grip, sinking my talons into its eyes as far as they will go. It is blinded but enraged. It releases its hold on the boy and I scoop him up, swimming furiously back to the bank. He is still unconscious; I hang his fragile form over my shoulder and run for the woods, getting as much distance between the beast and us as I can.
I reach my clearing and lie him down on the grass directly in the beam of sunshine that pervades the area so that he can dry off. His breathing seems fast and laborious; he must have swallowed some water. I drop to his side and press my hand to his chest making him cough it all up, he groans and his eyelids flinch as if he were about to wake up. I stand up and take a step back while his breathing slowly begins to return to normal, his eyes flicker and then open and he stares directly up at the sky before he turns his head and sees me.