Osa bounded forward and came to a halt in front of the circle, positioning himself in front of the gap in the salt and facing the direction of the Wildfolk.
From what Autumn could hear, the leader had managed to rally some of the troops. The sounds of fighting continued, but it wasn’t quite as loud as before. Every now and then, Autumn caught a glimpse of a member of the Wildfolk through the gathered people of the Greenwood and the people of the Larchwood. For those brief seconds, before they were pushed back once again, Osa would snarl and bark, occasionally turning back to glance at the children to check they were still behind him.
Autumn watched Osa carefully. He looked real and solid, just like in the photos and videos she had seen. He moved like a healthy young dog, and there was perhaps a little less white fur than in some of his later photos. It was hard to tell, though, because every now and then Autumn was sure she could see flecks of amber and chestnut light, glowing deep within his coat.
There was shouting further ahead. The leader of the Wildfolk was giving commands again.
“What did he say?” Autumn called to Skoo above the noise of the battle.
“He says if they can’t take the children, then they will destroy everything” replied Skoo.
The sounds of the fighting grew louder again. More Wildfolk must have arrived.
“He will not stop,” said Rose sadly.
Autumn watched her dad spin his staff in his hands until he held it horizontally out in front of him.
“I need to see,” he said.
Rose nodded, and called something to the leaders. They glanced backwards at Autumn’s dad, then move to the side, calling out further instructions to their own people.
As the crowd of people cleared, Autumn gasped. There were what looked to be hundreds of Wildfolk, stretching back all the way to the bridge.
Autumn’s dad stood to face them, then made a pushing motion with his staff, as if he was using it to clear the air in front of him. What felt like a ripple ran through the earth beneath Autumn’s feet, getting stronger, until the ground in front of the first line of Wildfolk churned upwards like a wave, toppling several of them. As soon as the ground was still, her dad repeated the motion, and another wave surged through the ground. And again, and again.
The ripples had slowed the Wildfolk, but they started to advance again, carefully, adjusting to the surging earth.
“It’s not enough,” said Rose. “They are stronger than before. They are going to push us to fight and fight. We need more.”
Autumn’s mum looked at Autumn’s dad, her eyes sad. She sighed, then nodded her head. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face Autumn and Erland. Smiling, she bent down to stroke Osa’s head.
“Autumn,” she said. “Come here. We need your help.”
Autumn hesitantly stepped out of the circle. She felt a momentary brush of cold air as she stepped over the salt before the stifling warmth of the summer night hit her again. Her dad reached out his left hand and she took it. Osa trotted in front of Autumn and her dad, watching the Wildfolk. Some of them hesitated and stepped back as he moved forward.
Rose held out her staff for Autumn.
“You will need this,” she said, a strange look on her face.
Confused, Autumn took the staff. As she did, she was sure the whispering sounded different, somehow. For a moment, she thought she almost caught a word, or something she understood.
“Alright, Autumn,” said their dad. “Just follow my lead.”
He tapped the ground with his staff and raised his other hand, still holding Autumn’s hand in his. He closed his eyes. It was almost as if he was listening for something.
“Try to reach out,” he whispered to Autumn without opening his eyes. “Try to draw the woods to you. Talk to the trees.”
Autumn didn’t know what to do. She looked around at the trees, but her eyes kept getting drawn back to the Wildfolk. They were still advancing slowly. The ripples had stopped, but the Wildfolk were clearly nervous, waiting to see what would happen next.
“Don’t pay any attention to anything but the trees, Autumn,” said her dad. “Just focus.”
Autumn closed her eyes and tried to think of nothing but trees. Everything seemed strangely precise. She could hear the shuffling of the people around her, she could even hear them breathing. Was there something else? There! Did she hear a rustle of a leaf? She concentrated on that. On the smell of the earth, and the heat of the sun on leaves. She thought of the tips of branches reaching into the sky, the feel of a summer breeze on a warm day. She thought of the roots deep below ground, stretching out. For a moment, it was almost as if she could feel the roots moving, growing.
She could feel the roots growing.
She felt a tremor in the ground, movement. Slight at first, but then again, stronger. And again.
And the woods burst into song around her.
The whispering, the thrumming in the background, it all made sense now. There were no words in a language she knew, but she understood. The trees were calling, singing.
Autumn opened her eyes.
The Wildfolk had paused again and were looking uneasy, glancing around at the trees. There was still no breeze, but the trees were rustling. They were whispering to each other, chanting together. There was a feeling of static, of electricity, in the air. The last of the light was gently slipping, though it was not yet quite dark. Everything seemed so sharp. Autumn was sure she could make out the smells of each of the individual trees. For a moment, images of different bark and leaves flashed through her mind.
Something in the sky caught her eye and she heard a collective gasp, not just from the Wildfolk, but from some of the people of the wood, too. She looked up, craning her neck.
Almost silhouetted against the sky in the failing light were what Autumn could only think of as threads of spikes, twisting, getting closer. Then something behind them, something even taller, blocked the light.
Autumn gasped and clutched her dad’s hand tightly, as the Giants stepped forward into the clearing.
The monkey puzzle was first, its spiked branches still curling, writhing. It was followed immediately by the redwood, the sitka, and the firs and the beeches. Eight Giants in all. They spread out to form a semi-circle line from the river halfway round the clearing, blocking off the rest of the woods from the Wildfolk, leaving only the bridge as an exit.
Autumn stared at the Giants. They still looked just like trees, as they had in the arboretum, but a strange form of recognition flashed through her mind as she looked at each of them in turn. Almost as if what she was seeing when she looked at them was each tree’s lifetime of knowledge and experience. It was as if they were sharing who they were with her. And they sang, the whole woods sang. It wasn’t distracting any more, it wasn’t overwhelming. It was the most beautiful and natural sound Autumn had ever heard.
Autumn felt her dad squeeze her hand and she glanced up at him.
“My Autumn of the woods,” he said, smiling down at her.
Sooo good :)
Ahhh, damn. Bravo.