Caveats Beyond the Trail

Chapter 1

Darkness was all around me, and I couldn’t smell. I don’t know why I wanted to smell. I felt dirt revealing itself at the bed of my fingertips. I started to say something but couldn’t find my voice; something inside me knew better.

Raising slowly up, I reached out to gauge the size of the hole; yes, I was most definitely in one. I couldn’t place where or how I got there, but heat filled the space to the point my stomach lapsed. Time remained absent.

Breaking my thoughts, shimmers of lights suddenly appear above my head. Maybe stars, I wondered as my eyes stretched until they ached. Trying to adjust to the darkness, I closed my eyes to seek relief.

In my ear, a rum-tum-tum-like lightning striking follows the cadence of my fears. I open my eyes instinctively, looking up again only to land on a pair of glowing eyes. Seemly, the view felt 6-feet above me, I began to shake.

Shutting my eyes even harder, I wondered of all things, why am I shaking so hard?

Faint, but above a whisper, I heard, “Riding Hood, wake up!

Is that creature talking to me, I wondered.

"Wake up!", this time the voice was a bit louder, more precise, maybe even familiar.

I open my eyes slowly to Ash Cedar walls. Trying to see who was standing above me, I could only make out a navy apron. I felt around my neck for my necklace. Why haven’t I checked before?

Forming the first actual words of the day, I share to the unknown figure, “Uh---what, was I dreaming?”

The brass key hung coldly in my palm. Yes, this is real life; focusing my eyes, I could see my dearest pal, Rella, smiling as she pulled me in for a hug.

The windows reveal the indigo hints in the night’s sky. It was going on 6:00 am, an hour after Rella’s usual waking. She needed no cuckoo-clock. She taught me time by the shadows’ dance.

Stretching up from the comfort of my sheets, Rella starts to fill in the obvious:

“You know how important today is. I wanted to make sure you were up,” as she continues to gather items together. “I used that backup key under the fake mushroom—You really need to change that,” Rella beams, making her way to the table.

I manage to get the sleep out of my eyes and stumble toward the kitchenette where peppermint teas kiss the cabin's air. Rella begins to select the star-shaped sugar cubes; she carefully explains:

“MawMa, also said that I should come by and well, wish you good luck and safe travels.” Rella’s expression deepens as she shares, “she said that your life is about to change.”

Automatically making me sad, but I didn’t want to show it. “Well, do not pout. I promised to share all my adventures.”

“Well, just in case, here,” Rella passes me a white scarf. Noticing she also wore one in her hair.

At that moment, tears begin to brim my lids. Rella and I have been best of pals since our skill lessons in Mellows Hills. She always was taller than me, slender, and kind. She was with Snow practicing songs with the sparrows on the day we formally met.

I was running around filling up the paint trays when I fooled around and flipped over Mrs. Helena’s magic bucket with invisible paint. It instantly turned silver when the substance hit the floor and showered her pink dusters. She turned a shade of cordovan I didn’t think was humanly possible.

Well, Snow and Rella stopped singing when they saw Mrs. Helena raise the broomstick in my direction. Unsure what happened, but the sparrow was on the stick, and Rella was standing face to face with Mrs. Helena. Ever since, I have viewed her as my protector, at times, downplaying my awareness. I understand why this passage walk was worrisome for her.

I grab her hand before saying dramatically, “White, of all colors?”

“Well, this was last minute, don’t judge me;” with a laugh, Rella continues: “Really though, the color white in our parts is like a bright green flag” as she tied the scarf around my wrist.

“Well, If I run into any trouble, I promise to tie it to the last thing I can,” raising my wrist and giving it a shake. “Now help me pack my backpack; I need all your insight, ma’am!”.

Chapter 2

I thought the two-hour prep time would give me a head start, but honestly, it did nothing to shake the moon’s presence. Approaching Ole Mac D’s bird blind, I had to take a second glance.

Is that a barn owl…with a blue bowtie? The poor thing seems to be locked in a phase of curiosity. Its eyes spoke to me as to convey, “why hasn’t the day broken into its yolk yet?” My eyes follow its tilted head in the direction toward the skyline.

Looking up, I realized I too, was searching for the light. Or maybe a sign? When I looked back in the owl's direction, it was gone. Wondering if that was really a bowtie I’ve seen or some sort of enchanted leaf, I continue walking until I finally reach the forked path.

It was not an official path marked with signs, but you could tell which one I'd been down before. One course was lined with glass pebbles that glisten day or night. It took me 3-years to line that path up to Cinnamon Brooks. I could only travel solo to Grandma’s at the start of my 14th sun cycle.

The second path was way grassier with undefined routes. I wanted to walk this way my whole life. Listening to Ma and Pa share tales of the wild adventures beyond the trail. I was informed very early that I was forbidden to take that route until the coming of my 21st birthday.

I took one step and I wonder why it seems so heavy.

****************************************************

The sun reveals its awe and splendor, and the trees were assorted with breeds I didn’t recognize so well. Luckily, each step felt as if it parted itself, revealing the right direction.

Believing it too early for any dangerous creatures that may cross my path, I stop and drop to my knees on hearing a rustle in the distance. The waves of feather reeds stop at the edge of the clearing. I swear I see something orange…sitting upon a shadowed head.

“Who goes there?” I said jokily.

My chant is met only by the sound of the wind, some crickets, and maybe the morning dew. I reached in my bag, and the figure emerged, showing itself to be...a wolf pup with an orange baseball cap on his head. Stocky in stature with baffle golden eyes.

The wolf spoke above a whisper but with strength, “You scared me!”.

Rising slowly, I begin to relax my shoulders and loosen the grip on the brass stick that Rella tosses in my backpack just before leaving. “I am sorry,” showing my empty hands, “I am Riding Hood, and yourself?

The pup stares me up and down before bursting into a mixture of giggles and mutters. Half to itself, and probably the rest to me, showing its fangs between saying: “Who am I? I’m just a pup! And you…a Riding Hood, silly, that is just a name? Silly person!”

Okay, I wasn’t ready for that. It continues without needing an actual response from me.

“You ask who I am as if you aren’t looking for yourself? How are you out here without knowing the first caveat? On this side of the forest, the path is made by oneself when one finds oneself. Looks like we are both on the path!”

Looking for a rebuttal, I pitch in, “This is true, but I know who I am and where I am going? How about you?”

The wolf pup met my eyes with laughter and explained, "I am enjoying my last frolic before the season comes to pass. I will be fully grown in stature and possibly mindset. But before this happens, I want to see the rainbow pebbles that mark the other side of the forest. I heard you can make a wish from just seeing one stone."

“How do you know about these rocks?” asking but wondering about the little orange cap.

“Legends, stories, tales. My sisters and her friend spoke about it once. They said the old woman confirmed it. And I have a wish--to be, just as big as Mr. Wolf. How about that for direction, Riding Hood!”

Old woman? Grandma has been missing for the last three visits. When I asked my parents if I should still make the trip, they eagerly encouraged it. How settling they were away for an 8-month Candy County’s tarts preparation. I was turning 21, and I was alone, in the forest, talking to a wolf pup. Realizing it never replied, I looked down to see it was halfway where I started.

“Hey!" yelling in its direction, but it just half spun into a stop. We exchanged wonderous glares before it took off.

I took off too, in my direction, the opposite direction. I couldn't help but think of Grandma. It was funny that I ran into a wolf of all animals down this route. I remember W-O-L-F was the first animal word I learned to spell.

Practicing “wolf” on the day Grandma made animal cookies. She told so many stories about these creatures. When I finally wrote it without assistance, she saved the best one. It was the first time I really felt proud of myself, and I remember she made a big deal out of it. Even encased the paper in glass, sort of like a plaque.

Slowing my breathing and my pace, I continue forward. The pup was right; by winter, it would be full grown. And this Mr. Wolf…could he be the legendary one?

Chapter 3

My tummy was beginning to take over as the sun hit its highest setting of the day. Indeed, it was time to eat. Scouting for a safe space to unpack and recharge, I see a Barney Oak right beyond the pink mulch.

Making my way over to the area, halfway up the path, I peep a pack of wolves. Each with purple berets sitting fashionably on their fuzzy heads. Making it over to my destination, I lower myself in the pink grass to overhear:

“Why are you worrying about HIM?” one voice said with a singer tone.

“Yes, a true heartbreaker, refusing to acknowledge the second caveat?” another sighed in.

“What’s that?” an unknown voice says once I reach the clearing, forcing me to stand; the pack turns together to look at me. The second caveat: a shared path is harmonious, but a force path is dangerous.

I smile as the group trout over in my direction. Yes, there are three, each bigger than the next. The smallest of the bunch was the one that scared me the most if I could be honest.

I reach slowly in my backpack, pulling out the sundried incenses and matches. Rella said this could come in handy when needing some space between animals. I really hope it works with wolves!

Lighting one stick by striking the match against my combat boots. The sparks mirror across the pack's eyes. An array of scarlet aaahh, marigold ooohh, and amber aaayy witnesses the exchange.

Planting the first stick in the ground, I watch the pack take a few steps back.

“What is that for?” said the medium size wolf in a mezzo-soprano tone.

“Yes, are you trying to scare us with your… fire powers?” said the little one with an uneasy pitch.

“Not in the least bit,” backing up to the tree. I still had a perfect view of most of my surroundings.

“It’s a precaution…as I want to share my lunch with you all… but I do not know how hungry any one of you may be," focusing the last point on the smallest of the crew. Its mouth hung partly open.

“That is fair!” assuming I was now talking to the leader. They agree immediately, with two lowering their bellies to the ground.

I reach over my sandwich and pull out three small apples and a hand full of mixed nuts for myself. Settling my jar of pineapple water inside my hoodie hammock, I prepared their lunch. Pulling out two of the three bags of sweet grass, wild strawberries, and corn kernels, I gave it to the approaching wolf.

“The Singer” walks over and hoops one treat bag back to the duo before sitting next to me.

Unbothered, I began eating. It ate quietly. The other two walk over, giving us some space.

“Can I ask you a question, I kind of overheard y'all talking earlier? Seems like love trouble.”

The expression was met with surprise. Pain sears the wolf's eyes before saying, “oh, my big sister is in love with the Big Bad Wolf. She wants to be the one he picks for his mate.” Lowering its voice before saying, “but I'm scared because I’ve seen her friend also trying to get his attention.”

“Friend? What kind of friend would do that?”

“Oh, I am sure there are those just like us. Don’t y’all call it deceitful, calculated, and sly? You have to be on the lookout, you know. Maybe that's why we are the purple beret gang.”

Shock it brought up the headwear, but not wanting to miss this loop, I continue:

“Yes, you are right? What kind of people do you know?”

Staring, the wolf exchanges, “The only people we know is the crazy old woman, and now you. The crazy old woman like to read really loud. Read a little, mix a little. Crazy tales about future things, silly things are what us wild ones say.”

“When was the last time anyone saw this crazy lady?”

“Depends on the seasons. She gives out different “tokens," which we call them. I know you are sure to see them. Big Bad Wolf said it’s like she is marking us somehow, so he pays attention to the stories.”

Almost in a whisper, the wolf shares, “I just don’t understand what any of it means? I wonder why his hat is...what color does he call it…crimson?”

“Okay, but when was the last time you saw—"

“It’s time to go,” the leader walks over and licks up the last of the feed mix in front of the talkative wolf.

“So fast?”

“If you knew what we knew, you would leave soon too,” the big sister wolf snares.

The trio walks away, heading east from the path. I didn't pack up my things until I couldn't see them anymore. Slipping the sandwich pack in my hand, I’ll just eat and walk.

I couldn’t stop thinking about grandma, these wolves, and most definitely these articles of clothing, tokens? The owl, now this. So, this was intentional. But why disappear?? The distance showcases some gray clouds, warning a nearby storm besides the one churning in my head.

Perfect! Taking off to gain some speed, I thought it best to rotate between paths to cover more ground. Then it happens.

There was a massive hole in the ground, losing my footing; I began to slide in when something stopped me by my hoodie, almost choking me. Looking up, I met eyes with the biggest wolf I’ve ever seen. The wolf lifts me up and tosses me to the side in one move.

Now I can see that someone or something intentionally set up the hole. Were those marking around the perimeter? Crawl marks?

“You need to be more careful,” it said in an accent similar to folks in Honey Mills.

“Aren’t you scared?" it said when it realized I did not respond.

Rella told me I couldn’t be scared. I hum up the courage to say, “caveat three- one should meet the seasons as they come! Why would I be scared of you? Puzzled may be a better word,” as I indicate the hole.

“The trap,” correcting my thoughts. “Yes, that is quite dangerous, the massive wolf shares.

I agree.

The massive wolf lifts a paw to show a better route.

Should I follow?

Chapter 4

Agreeing before thinking, I said, “lead the way!”

Walking with authority, the wolf leads me around three holes before releasing me on the path. I wonder what the holes were about.

“I know you are wondering what those traps are. But I promise you, I didn’t dig them.”

Quickly, I ask, “What do you know about the old woman?”

“Old woman?" it almost laughs. “There is no old woman; there is only magic in these woods. You should hurry along; the storm is brewing,” as it motions with its nose toward the clouds up ahead.

“Hey, where is your hat?”

“My what?” it said. Unlike the others, it didn't seem to be wearing anything colorful.

“Never mind”, muttering before hurrying along.

Feeling around my neck, I retrieve the key. I was hungry, tired, and confused. Oh, Grandma, as I thought back to our last encounter.

It was like I was sitting in the yellow kitchen again. The sour cream biscuits were cooling by the window, and I had just finished tasting the lemonade. Grandma came in with assistance from her walking sticks. She always lit up any room with her wide grin and good vibes. She slips me a pink box before sitting and saying:

“I guess we are both getting older.” It was my 18th birthday.

Smiling, I nestle in her voice.

“Every loop around the sun is worth celebration. Alone or with others, always remember Riding Hood; you really have one mission in life.”

“What’s that?’, as I open the box to a silver necklace, stuck in the side a ribbon with an actual brass key.

“It's to live a full life! You can live it if you remember the laws and caveats of the land.” Pulling me into a hug before saying, “keep it in your head and your heart.”

Helping to place the key and the necklace together, she clasped it around my neck. She told me, “You will know what to do with it on the arrival of your 21st sun cycle.”

The raindrops begin to fall. I was almost there. In the distance, I could see smoke rings. What in the world? The grass soon reveals a cobber walkway to an iron gate.

I push the gate, and it opens wildly. The cottage-like shed, to my surprise, was locked. Knocking a few times, I try my key.

Click-snap-unlock! I walk inside, initially noticing the small firewood going. It looks like one room with an archway for a backdoor.

“Hello…" I begin to look around, shutting the door behind me. This place felt…familiar. “Hello!”

The area was dimly lit. Few items were in the room, with floor-to-ceiling shelves arranged in rows. Rows full of books. I see a freestanding stovetop with an oddly placed table near an opening. On the table, a steaming basin, a cup of what looks like butterfly pea tea, and my favorite raspberry cookies.

I splash my face with the mix of spring water and chamomile. Noticing a note simply saying “Welcome, see you soon”, comprises of letters pasted and glued from the books and photos, clumsily stack underneath the table.

Someone was expecting me. It was quiet as a mouse, but each bite of the cookie echoes across the walls.

The rain was coming down so hard I got up to close the shutters. Looking over the room, I scan the collection of books and items.

I sip the tea, which I couldn't place the flavor, and wonder who these images and items once belong. Names I couldn’t say out loud and figurines fitting to put on a play. I heard something scurry by the archway.

Walking over, I enter what appears to be a narrow entrance. Descending downward, my hands guide me through the loam and clay walls. Strategically, glowing stones near the turns aid with illumination. Remembering the dream, I swallow hard, reaching a Cedar door trim in wrought iron, holding two passion candles.

Entering the room, I begin to feel a little dizzy. I wish I ate more of that sandwich before I dropped it in that hole. Noticing rows of cubbies with several missing slots, I made my way around the room. Right above specific clusters of wear gear, were the title of animals found in the woods.

As I grew closer to the only row with velvet cushions, it held a stack of fedoras in several colors. The sign above it read, “WOLF," and unlike the other platted markers, this was scribed by a child, not just any child.

Suddenly, I saw two large eyes sitting quietly near the drapes, but I couldn’t see much.

“Uh, Grandma?”

“Riding Hood,” it said, but something about the voice didn’t sound right.

“Grandma? Why do you sound like that? And why are you hiding in that corner? Why are your eyes so big?”

She chuckled, warming my heart. That’s Grandma. I took a few steps in her direction and--

“Wait, Please!”

Suddenly, I felt something dripping out my nose. Taking my wrist to use the scarf, I saw bluish residue.

“You have to pick a hat first, grandbaby!" as my tongue and face begin to swell.

Grandma? Grandma, I can’t see you…my face."

“Pick a hat!”

I felt my stomach buckle in two; it was that blue tea. How could I have been so silly and eaten strange treats? I can't feel too much self-pity now, realizing how off-track I’ve been with all the woodland guests. Did any of it matter now?

Stopping myself right before hitting the ground, I knocked over the stack of fedoras upon the floor. My eyes growing heavy, I focus on the task at hand.

Reaching beyond the cadet blues, smokes, and tans to the only white teardrop fedora. I untied the stained scarf from my wrist and looped it around the hat with the last of my strength. It’s the last thing I remember.

************************************************************

Waking up to two wolves standing over me, I realized we were back in the shed cottage. Feeling different, what, a paw, four paws?

My eyes were still weary; I wanted to run and find the basin. I needed to see what was going on.

“Relax”, the bigger of the two said when I realized it was now wearing a bright crimson fedora.

"Your transformation is taking place, and you will need rest," said Grandma.

Grandma's a wolf?

She walks up to me, holding something white in her mouth, and drops it in front of me.

“My hat?” I choke out the words

“Your caveat," the wolves correct me. Mr. Wolf or Big Bad Wolf, walks away but not before saying “It is up to you, what it really means…”

But in my heart, I didn’t know what he was referencing, my thoughts or myself.