I became aware it was walking backwards. Watching me without watching where it was going. Eerily following the twists and turns of the knotted forest path, its eyes never leaving mine. Could it sense the path without looking at it? Speaking of which, I remembered it was the first to notice me at the wall, even with its back turned. Was this a part of its magical abilities?
The forest broke into a clearing. We were at the cottage already. Its glowing sight welcomed me back home with warmth. Pillars of light as tall as the towering trees gave the space its grandeur; the overgrowth, its harmony; the sputtering of the stream, its lullaby. Today, the flowers gleamed vividly in the sunlight, seemingly more jubilant than it’s ever been. How wonderfully this haven always sapped me of my worries.
I ambled up to the stone steps, almost forgetting about the spirit, which was short enough to disappear right under my nose. It hopped up the steps, in that unnatural, buoyant way it always moved. I paused, reevaluating its honesty. There was no way it did not give away its true identity to the children.
It stood next to the door, clutching the flower at its chest, still watching me, as if waiting to go inside. It expected to go inside.
“… You want to go in again?”
It nodded eagerly.
“… Why?”
It stopped, uncertain. Obviously that was not a question it could answer.
I sighed, exasperated. I closed my eyes and brought my fingertips to my face, shaking my head. “Wait. Just a moment, here.” I thought long and hard on how to go about it. Though I did not look up, I could feel the spirit’s gaze burning my face. Finally, I turned and walked down the side path, traced by slabs of rock that led around the house, away from the front door.
“Follow me.” Stopping to check, I saw it remained by the door. It didn’t move. I motioned with a single hand. “Come on, now! This way.”
Now it looked scared, the pattern broken. Its eyes flicked around, appearing like, at any moment, it would dart away, like a scrawny rabbit, into the bushes and out of my sight. Gone. But it hesitated to move, as if my gaze turned it to stone. I dropped my shoulders, groaning, “For heaven’s sake, I’m not going to hurt you! We just need to renegotiate the terms of our agreement here.” I whipped around. “There’s a porch in the back. Meet me there if you want. But do hurry!”
In the backyard, I stepped up to the porch and into the shade of the awning. Setting the basket on the tea table, I eased into a chair, taking a deep breath. I closed my eyes, slouching back, my head aching. I took off my hat and fanned my neck. I was sweating. Even in the shade, the summer air offered little respite. The wind was gone, leaving me to rely on my own wind.
I opened my eyes and looked around. All I saw was the shaded porch, the stream, and the field of flowers. The spirit was not here. Rolling my head to the side, I extended my neck upwards, without sitting up, to stare at the bend, waiting for it to appear. I continued to fan myself, gradually wicking the heat off my body. With it, my mind cooled, my breaths becoming longer and my shoulders melting into the cushion of my seat.
Was I too harsh to the spirit? I couldn’t remember the last time I was this frustrated. Just because of a spirit? Or was it the way it forced itself into my life? Normally I did not mind the spirits. Not the ones that drifted around the dark forest air or scampered at the slightest movement. But if this one was going to stick around, then that was a whole different story… Because other people mind; the town minds. And if they mind, then I’ll have to mind. Surely that is good enough of a justification for my frustration? This was my property, after all. Perhaps it is inhumane to throw out a child, but… It is not a child. It is a wild creature. A spirit. It can survive in the forest without my help. Besides humans, there is nothing for them to fear there… Right? Is there anything that hunts them? Do the spirits even have predators? For that matter, do they even die?
My head was aching again. The summer heat today was really unbearable. I fanned myself faster, but the effort it took only strained my shoulder as it pressed into the chair. My dark skirt and jacket did not help either. I wondered whether I should just go inside and wait in there. Was it still standing at the front door? If it did intend to follow, it sure was taking its time.