Footsteps

The frozen ground glittered slightly in the dull sunlight; the grass underneath the layer of ice was grey and dead. Great open expanses of white wasteland stretched endlessly into the distance, occasionally littered with the husks of abandoned settlements. Nothing grew on these plains. Wherever you looked, there would be more white. More shells of burnt out houses. More ruins. But then, if you gazed far away, squinted at the blinding glare of pristine snow, you would see a line. A thick, dense, black line of trees - out of place and startlingly obvious. Why didn’t you see it before? Maybe it would have been better if you hadn’t seen it at all.

 

“I’m cold," the girl declared, hugging her arms around her body which was wrapped in many thick layers of fabric.

A hoarse voice answered back, “well, so am I.”

“Well, maybe I’m colder than you. You wouldn’t know,” she huffed.

“Well, maybe I gave you the coat and I’m only in this jumper so please, just be quiet.”

“Alright then, but I'm only small and you're way bigger than me."

“That doesn't matter! I'd like a turn of the coat too but no! You get it all the time.  Look... sorry," he offered his grey gloves, hoping to pacify her.

“Fine, but for your information, you’re a rubbish brother.”

“Fine, I’m only trying to help.”

They sat huddled together in the shell of an abandoned house. One small girl, one tall boy. She poked at the crackling fire sullenly with a stick. It flared up suddenly and grew bigger, sending distorted shadows lurching across the blackened walls. He crouched close to her, shivering in a threadbare jumper, watching her with pale, protective eyes. What was left of the sun was in the very middle of the sky, casting a silver haze over the ground. The girl pouted and wrapped herself more snugly in her coat.

“You can do it this time,” came her muffled response.

He sighed, “I’ve done it the past 10 times.”

The snow howled and whipped the shell with all its power, like it wanted to tear and pull the metal to shreds. In the distance, there was dull, grey nothingness. Then the trees were there, standing stoic in the wind, dark and powerful. Lifeless. He ducked his head back in.

“Nothing.”

“Same as always?”

“I said ‘nothing’, didn't I? " he sniffed.

She glared at him and went back to poking the fire. It flickered uncertainly, the flames seemed to splutter and die a bit with every half-hearted stir.

“We’ll need some more firewood,” he said.

“I know," she mumbled, poking the fire with her stick and avoiding his gaze.

“What?"

“You know what happened last time," she shivered, and he was suddenly reminded of how young she really was.

He looked back outside at the thick line of trees for a moment.

“Fine, I’ll go, but I’ll need –“

“I know.”

From beside her she pulled a long stick out of the snow with a knife tightly bound at one end. It was rusted and blackened like everything else they had found – he took it carefully are held it so the sharp end was balanced away from his sister.

“Now, you know what to do if I… if I don’t come back?” he repeated to her.

A non-committal nod.

“You shut the door and do not open it, even if –“

“I know!" She interrupted, "Just go already… it might get dark soon."

“Ok, remember, even if I’m right outside –“

“You’re going to come back, stop worrying.”

Without another word he turned and crunched his way out into the snow and the gale, her eyes went with him, carefully watching his every move.

The walk he took back to the trees seemed endless when I looked back on it, that struggling figure carving a path through the pristine snow, carelessly scarring the perfect landscape. But it wasn’t just those trees that halted his uncertain steps. It was the things inside.He knew about us, hidden away, he knew that rusted spear wouldn’t do much good against me. But their precious fire, that horrid, blinding fire had to keep burning, didn’t it? Otherwise the things in the trees would never be kept at bay.

He arrived at the edge of the forest and looked back. A slither of light was just visible from here; he could find his way back well enough. He turned the other way and squinted through the trees. He’d have to go deep into the woods to find any dry sticks, let alone enough to fill his bag. The trees were dark and dense in the late afternoon grey sky. Up close they were vast and seemed to tower right up into the endless cloud. He hadn’t told his sister about the things, but they didn’t come out in the light anyway. But in the black heart of the forest… He shook his head and plunged in.

He wove a haphazard path through the foliage, starting at every crack and rustle on the dark forest floor. He clutched the spear with both hands and thrust it straight out in front of him. He had done this hundreds of times, he would be fine. It grew darker with each step he took, and with every breath he could taste something rotten, something decaying. Then he stopped. There. Something in front of him, he could barely see it in the dusk. A hole in the ground. It was deep; he could tell that from where he stood. It was one of theirs.

I was crouched in the den, listening to his panicked breathing. Somehow he knew what we were, and he was scared, so very scared. His fear reminded me of when they first came here. And when they first discovered that my world wouldn't be taken so easily. I could smell him outside, he was so tantalizingly close, but I waited. He was too close to the edge of the forest, and they ran too quickly for me to keep up.

He edged carefully around the outside of the hole, he would not wake whatever dwelled inside. If they didn’t know he was here he would keep it that way. But he stopped suddenly again, his pale eyes widening in terror. The ground in front of him was riddled with holes; the decaying pits were clustered all around him. He had never been this deep before. He gripped the spear so tight that sweat ran in great rivulets down the wood and onto the rusted knife. There was the snap of a twig behind him, and he knew then, that it was a footstep.

The boy twisted round with a cry of fear, and found me standing facing him. His outline was framed in silver light from the meager rays shining through the trees. I stood there, and he ran.

He could hear the creature leap, almost silently, after him, and he couldn’t get the image out of his head, the long, pale limbs, huge beetle - like eyes, gaping mouth filled with razor sharp teeth.  The blood pounded in his ears as he raced to the start of the forest, he was going to make it, he couldn’t hear anything behind him, his breaths felt ragged in his throat, his head throbbed, he was nearly there, he –

She waited by the doorway, her eyes fixed on the dark line of trees. He should have been back by now, but, he wasn’t. It was dark. Still she stood on constant watch, her face was stung with pellets of snow as she leaned out into the gale.

Movement! Something in the trees, flitting silently between the trunks, he was back, it was fine. She scrunched up her eyes and tried to focus on the darkening figure with a smile. Then there was another one. And another. The relieved smile fell from her lips. She let out a sob and sank down to her knees. Why hadn’t she gone? Why hadn’t she told him about the things in the trees? She heard a soft ‘whoomph’ from behind – the fire had gone out. Crying, she dragged the wooden slab of a door over to the hole in the wall and wedged it in the gap. But it wouldn’t do any good; she would go the way her parents had gone, the way everyone had gone. She scrunched herself up in a faraway corner, and waited for the footsteps outside the door.