Across countless hills and rivers, mountains that barely touched the skies, across the echoing voices of streams that poured themselves into great lakes, lay a forest.
A forest so ancient, none could remember the first seeds that sprouted. A forest so dense that not even the sunlight could pierce through its secrets. A forest only privy to the call of ancient beings, forbidden for any mortal eyes to pry on. A forest bound by a crumbling oath, which was now filled with the wailing outrage from a babe haphazardly swaddled in cloth.
The trees whispered amongst themselves in hushed tones as the wind desperately weaved between them, pulling their branches away from this unwanted intrusion. The babe in all its shrill glory made its displeasure known, its cries which bounced amongst wooden trunks were eagerly swallowed by the earth. A young Aspen tree tittered on the child's liveliness, another more wiser Aspen worried about itself, supposedly getting tainted while the Birch and the Oak took it upon themselves to argue about its augury. Nature's disagreement, yet it could not deny the very absurdity of this circumstance. Flesh and bone that traversed the forest's threshold belonged purely to it and yet it felt a certain wrongness for claiming the babe, felt it almost unnatural.
Such was the dilemma, and as the trees fretted and the wind wept, two figures had materialized near the edge and begun their distinction. Two mortal souls ambled, imprinting the soil with their presence and regardless of their leisurely pace they wisely kept their distance from the forest's edge. It was almost hereditary for them to be cautious after all.
"Tihomir," the older man said as he suddenly perked up his ears "did you catch that cry?"
The younger man in question raised his head, straining to hear any sound and before he could shake his head, the piercing cry was heard with better clarity.
Both men stiffened abruptly, eyes clothed in uncertainty.
Regaining a sense of lucidity Tihomir jerked his head towards the direction of the sound and raised a finger to his lips. Bojislav nodded and with a certain air of practiced ease drew his arrow and blessed with a hunter's silence they cautiously trod towards the sound.
With sharper eyes, Bojislav first noticed the cloth and then the movements only seconds after. His heart in all its stress started to pulsate even harder and the man could not help but wonder what mother was heartless enough to abandon her own kin at the edge of the forest.
Edge of the forest?!
In the corner of his peripheral vision he saw a kind hand unfurling and before his friend could lean any closer, Bojislav already consumed by trepidation, hastily jerked the younger man back.
The sounds of protest left their evidence on Tihomir's lips.
"Silence!" the older hunter hissed out. "Fool that you are! It might be nothing more than a manifested deceit to drag us in!" once more his desperate hand grasped and jerked, pulling his companion closer to the tender embrace of safety.
Tihomir felt the distressed grasp on his clothed back, a rough hand wrinkling the fabric with evident tension yet he could not fathom the almost feverish superstition the other possessed.
To be in full belief of all manners of ill will when the child looked real enough, the way its tiny fists curled and how its small mouth pouted. Perhaps his friend was correct in advising caution, perhaps it merely was an abandoned child stolen by a then disinterested Vila, perhaps it was an illusion by the forest meant to expose and prey on the weakness of men, perhaps it was something much more sinister that his mortal mind was not privy to understand.
His mind scrambled for a sensible answer yet he also found himself unable to cease the blossoming sympathy that threatened to exterminate his rationality.
Oh may the Gods bless and damn him! He had lived his life as he willed, most of the time, and his consciousness would rip him apart, a kinship already forging with the babe as he too was familiar with the cold fingers of abandonment.
A tree branch, he needed a tree branch!
Bojislav glanced at him, eyes dancing in disbelief as his friend was made mad.
Yet finally, frantic hands made contact with their desire and jittery fingers ensnared and tightened their hold on the familiarity of wood. They moved in determined unison, however still mindful enough to keep their movement gentle, as the branch was reborn a shepherd guiding and herding the missing lamb back to him and with much tender navigation, merciful hands made reach for the soiled cloth.
The babe fussed nervously but in the compassionate grip of her savior's rocking hands and in the soothing lullaby of his heart, her hunger and fear merely evaporated and was lulled almost instantly to much welcomed slumber. Tihomir's hands refused to stop rocking.
He found a smile gracing his lips, his very being already captivated with the little creature calling his chest a cradle.
"Silent friend, what ever shall we both do now? We have no milk to feed the thing and the elders will curse at this abomination, will probably demand for it to return where it emerged from!" interjected a distressed warning, as the older man shook his fiery red hair in warning. His heart did share a degree of sympathy towards the child, but the prospect of trouble it would cause his dear friend hardened his resolve. Yet the black haired man, choosing to remain oblivious to the other's resistance merely turned around, his feet already making acquaintance with the familiar path leading home with a rather sullen Bojislav right at his heel while his mouth kept on spitting such vulgar irritation that even the Wind was forced to blush as it carried his words towards the heavens.
The path back home refused to be an inviting one as over grown grass thrived, still light and springy in its form, especially with a babe in hand one had to have a level of caution with their steps. So it took both men much longer than intended to arrive back in front of the tall wooden wall, the reliable and steady guardian that diligently protected its people since the day it was erected.
Steady fists rapped against weathered wood in a sort of rhythmic flurry. When the man inside the watch tower heard no threat and sensed no danger with his sensitive eras, he signalled for the other man below to open the door. With a great sigh the wooden door was pulled opened and it welcomed the two weary hunters back home, ushering them inside.
"No successful hunt today either men? Does Triglav with his ever knowing sight finally call you to Smorodina in your prime age?" called out beardless Zdislav, the watchtower man, as he good naturedly relaxed his posture yet he coated his tongue in a sharp bitterness one that hissed and snarled with its words.
"It seems that the Leshy have taken it upon themselves to gamble once more, no trace of deer in the northern pass," yelled back Bojislav, rather finding himself far too tired to acknowledge the blatant insult, pressed his hand to Tihomir's back, guiding them continuously forward before the beardless cunt could whip out another crueler retort.
They continued forward trying to banish any more cumbersome distractions, as they hurriedly passed by wooden homes half dug in the fertile soil, by women in different stages of life engrossed in their work either in devotedly spinning thread, cooking or tending to their animals. By children still blessed with their youth, little legs made fast and sturdy as they chased after each other as the wind lovingly ruffled their hair. By men withered and weathered by age, skin artfully flecked with sun spots to springy and confident lads all eager to carve their own mark in the world.
The little one yawned suddenly, disgruntled to find herself being rocked at a rather uneven pace and she dared to glare at the blurry lump in her still hazy vision, but before she could let out a mighty screech, since hunger once again begun to pain her belly, she was ushered inside.
One of the houses furthest from the great wooden wall was pleasantly cool and dark, much appreciated when one tries to escape the heated kisses of the afternoon sun and the smell of burning herbs did not assault the sense of smell. Near the hanging herbs stood two bent figures almost shrouded in shadows, their bodies made clear when their door opened revealing the happenings of the outside world for the briefest of times.
Of the two figures, the old man straightened his wizened back to the best of his capabilities.
"Bojislav and Tihomir, may our gracious Gods illuminate the way!" rasped the elder until his throat dried up and he began to violently hack. He brusquely waved his hand, in an attempt at an apology.
"Pray tell to what do we owe your visit?" he inquired, kind hazel eyes scanning the men before they promptly narrowed at the obvious outline of a babe.
"Oh knowledgeable Miran we enter your abode to seek your famed guidance and wisdom," and when Miran inclined his head, Bojislav reluctantly continued "As the great Sun ascended the heavens once more, we departed North in search of game but alas! The trails usually followed were empty of life, deeper and deeper have we traversed but all for naught. Sooner than later we were forced to halt as we wandered too close to the Velky Les.." and at that the elderly woman who had held her husband's arm, shuddered violently and crossed her wrinkled fingers across her face, imitating the shape of lightning. At the hint of distress Miran delicately squeezed his wife's hand, the touch consoling her as calmness once more flitted between her eyes.
Clearing his throat Bojislav continued, "Ehm. As I was recalling, we made sure to only travel alongside its perimeter to search for any abnormalities and as fate was ordained, we came across a peculiar," he paused. "Abnormality."
Sensing his cue, Tihomir uncovered the cloth from said abnormality as the elderly pair leaned in closer to take a look.
Dalibora hissed, spittle flying.
Miran could not catch any words to voice out his surprise.
"AND YOU DARE BRING IT WITH YOU?!" raged Dalibora, whipping her head around, plaited silver hair swishing wildly. "MIRAN! MIRAN! THE DISRESPECT WE HAVE BEEN SERVED! OUT! OH GODS GRANT US MERCY GET OUT!" The terrified woman wailed. Her knees buckled and she sank down, like a sinner mocking the sacred act of kneeling, still clutching at her husband with a strength almost long forgotten.
Her husband used to such frivolous antics merely sighed in resignation and stroked his beard, burrowing deep in thought.
"Dalibora either behave yourself or please leave," said Miran "this is not the time for supposed theatrics."
"And young men," he addressed the visitors rather sternly "you have partaken in an irresponsible risk. I doubt I need remind you what dangers your actions might bring. Nevertheless, I alone am not responsible to decide the girl's fate, without the approval of the elder's circle. For now," sudden bravery made him peer closer at the strange forest child, "stir some milk and water, and hush her belly. It is best if people remain oblivious to what has transpired. I trust you two will know when to bring her."
Final words uttered the elderly man, and silence once more emerged from the darkest parts of the house taking back its residence. As the two hunters dejectedly turned away, Miran threw a quick prayer of protection upwards towards the sky.
In life, people are given the illusion of control, they delude themselves into thinking that they are able to persuade life to their desired direction, and contrary to old Miran's wishes, one can not just simply eradicate human curiosity.
Frantic whispers spread like a disease through liable ears, fear and morbid suspicion caught on like a house on fire.
Terrified mothers steered their kin inside the safety of the crackling hearth.
The people had been forcefully made aware that an invited guest had a tenacity to taint their purity.
______
The Sun could not flee fast enough.
Fires were struck, torches dipped and latched on to the heat, illuminating the dust path ahead, to a great wooden structure, which inside held cushioned chairs, following the pattern of a horseshoe.
On five chairs sat five wise men.
Their youthful beauty long extinguished but their mind still brimmed with knowledge and wit, and in the middle, ever so delicately placed was their very being of distress.
The ordinary people, allowed to participate in this urgent matter stood way behind these men, forming a nearly circled crowd. Bodies fidgeted, eyes darted to and fro like a swinging pendulum but their lips were forced shut. Ghostly spectators, none dared to interrupt the vague mutterings of concern from the wise men.
"Silence!"
The man in the middle chair's voice echoed out from cracked lips, authority still intact even in its declining state. At this command, a stillness blanketed the spacious room.
"As everyone is now made aware we have gathered here to have a CIVIL discussion about the abandoned child found at the edge of the Velky Les."
"It is an omen! A terrible warning from the stars!" wept one elder, fear sliding from the tip of his tongue.
"It is sacrilege to enter the Velky Les, the child must harbour a sort of curse." continued another.
"Perhaps the child will only harm those it fooled into picking it up?" tried to assure the youngest elder, passing a hopeful look to the two culprits.
"And if it doesn't? If that..THAT THING..decides to ruin all of us, our people and our flocks? It's uncertain if it even bleeds like us. And what mother would be so irresponsible to leave her flesh and blood IN the deserted abode of our very own Gods!? The forest snares and puts a claim to all that dare disturb it, I suggest we slaughter the thing and be done with it! Also punish the perpetrators for their naivety." argued bearded Zdislav, body flaring in a heated rage.
Some people fervently nodded their heads in agreement. Others mouthed their disapproval.
Miran could do nothing but let out an annoyed sigh, a splitting headache taking root in his mind, its tendrils pressing uncomfortably against his temple. The chair, adorned with soft fleece still pressed uncomfortably against his weary bones, he would probably need to give Zvonimira another visit.
Lamenting at the unpleasant thought, he was abruptly made aware just as everyone else that the linden door to the abode started to squeal.
In stepped a woman.