Threads of Emerald

Threads of Treachery: Chapter 1

The snow-capped pine trees of the Plutus Forest stood silently as I made my way into its heart. It too seemed to be mourning the death of summer and grieving for the loss that winter was sure to bring. The fresh scents of tulips and daffodils were replaced by the acidic stench of stale water that clung to the green trees, trickling softly onto the blanket of snow that had been falling for the past week.

The food supply had ran out two days ago, and whilst my parents and my twin were content with pretending we could survive on a small loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese until the snow calmed down, I was not.

The snow had risen to the middle of my calves, and the black breeches I wore did little to prevent the blistering cold seeping into my skin. My muscles seemed to protest with every step I took, my boots crunching through the snow. At least the freezing temperatures would knock me into unconsciousness before death took a hold of me, not like the torturously slow death that starvation offered. I'd glimpsed that for the last few days. The nausea and stomach pains had subsided long enough for me to get up that morning, but even now, an air of languidness seemed to be pushing down on me, promising oblivion, peace and a place to rest my aching body.

But I knew what that was.

The peace it offered masked the truth within. The brink of starvation was draining my energy, convincing me to give in with every step I took. Every slow crunch of snow beneath my boot and droplet of water that trickled through the trees seemed to lull me into wanting to give in to the oblivion. I pushed forward.

The forest was old. Ancient and unnerving in the cruel Winter months. The creatures that roamed here didn't reveal themselves, but you knew they existed because the trees would rustle when there was no wind, branches would snap when there was no one here and the wind seemed to whistle past you as if you weren't the only one there. The forest was known as the Plutus Forest, a name attached to it for thousands of years.

We'd visited the small river that lay in its heart, reading books about great adventures, tragic tales of heroism and anything my father could get his hands on. In the summer, the sun seemed to concentrate on the very core of the green-tinted depths of water, casting a buttery glow across the lush, pine trees, bathing our father's deep, ruby-hued hair with a crimson glow and kissing Aphina and I's golden-brown hair. But remembering the balmy smell of lilacs and lavender plants, tangling with the scent of mild summer heat unsettled me. The forest was no longer inviting, its aromatic scents and fresh, summer air did not relax me or invite pleasant thoughts of long-evenings spent soaking in the heat or cooling down in the temperate waters.

It gave me a weighty sensation of unease because I knew that I had to succeed in hunting some food or we would starve.

And I knew that the creatures of this forest would be unforgiving, showing no mercy, if I were to deplete their food supplies by even a meagre rabbit, or a handful of winter berries that grew down by the now frozen stream.

I knew I was nearly at the core of the forest as I passed over the grey-stone bridge. As I passed over the boundary of the bridge, the snow was no longer at my knees but a thin, dusty coating on the forest floor.

This was not because there was a thicker canopy above nor because the sun now set this side of the forest alight with a golden glow. The creatures had spelled this pathway to stop the snow blanketing.

They wanted to hear the scraping of my boots against the rough stone floor, they wanted to hear me, so they could kill me when I took their food. There had been legends about this forest for years. Some said that the creatures who resided here were cursed by the Gods because they practiced a forbidden form of magic. Some said that the creatures were blind because of such a curse. But, my Father said that the creatures were not evil. They just lived off the resources of the forest and would only use such magic if someone tried to disturb the harmony they lived under. And I knew my Father was right, because I'd stolen from the Forest multiple times and had a few brushes with death by doing it.