Evergreen

There is a place, hidden deep within the trees that remain forever green, where the mountains part like some sleeping giant’s maw and give way to a glassy lake. Static, a liminal space where the old ones whisper quietly to the mossy earth and no human has tread for centuries.

Here a pair of ravens circle above the mirrored waters. A wild dog brushes against ferns as a hare twitches its nervous ears. The eternal cycle rolls, over and over, a monotonous repetition.

Blood stains the brilliant mustard and emerald moss, the ravens cry out. In the distance, a child’s laugh is carried by the north wind through the giant’s gaping trap, echoing across the lake.

The surface of the lake shudders, and for a moment, those ancient spirits fall into contemplative silence.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear it!” I cried, then doubled over once again to let out a laugh. I righted myself and covered my mouth to stifle my uncontrolled giggles.

“You did it on purpose,” the girl accused, pulling a twig from her hair.

“I’m sorry, Ava.” My voice was steady, sincere, but my lips twitched, pursed, and sputtered as I caved into my mirth.

Ava continued walking, purposely knocking shoulders with me, as quarrelling siblings are wont to do.

I jogged a few frantic steps to catch up. “I didn’t mean to hit you with that branch. Promise.”

Ava glared, keeping her eyes on the uneven path before her. “Whatever you say.”

“Ava, look!” I whispered sharply, grabbing my sister’s arm and pointing to the sky. “Crows!”

Ava, unimpressed, stared at me flatly. “They’re ravens.”

“How do you know?”

“Too big for crows.” She shrugged her arm away from me and carried on up the trail.

I stared at the birds a little longer, watching them dance lazy circles in the air. I bet birds don’t have grumpy sisters, I thought as I dragged my toe through the soft forest floor.

I ambled on after Ava, listening to the wistful sounds of the woods. A squirrel chattered high above, while a mouse rustled last year’s fallen leaves below. A chill breeze kicked up and threatened the inevitable conclusion of summer.

“Where are we going?” I enquired.

Ava’s shoulders twitched upward almost imperceptibly. Her gaze stayed fixed ahead but her voice was a shade brighter than before. “You’ll see,” she said. “You’re going to love this place. It’s . . . otherworldly.”

I sprinted up beside her. “Oh come on, you can’t say something like that and not tell me where we’re going,” I whined.

Ava just smirked.

We trudged on, winding through trees, stumbling over rocks that jutted up through the mushy earth, until the trail curved up and around a hill. There, on either side of the path were two great outcroppings of stone, standing tall and stoic.

I craned my neck as we passed through the split in the mountain and let a quiet, mesmerized whoa escape my lips.

Ava smiled smugly over her shoulder. “This isn’t even the best part,” she snickered.

I ran my hand over the cool, grey stone, knocking a piece of moss from a rocky shelf. I shivered and stared back the way we had come. The mountain seemed to tunnel behind us like some great cavern. The dizzying distance stretched, and what I thought was a faint whisper trickled into my ears. I grasped the wall for balance.

“I think we should go home,” I said.

Ava frowned at me. “I didn’t bring us all this way, get hit in the face with a tree branch, just for you to want to go home before you even see this place.”

“I—I suppose not.”

I lurched forward, clumsily placing my feet between jagged, slick rocks. The whispering continued in my ear, circling around me like those crows in the sky. Ravens, I told myself.

We finally escaped that dreadful mountain pass and the claustrophobic stone turned to a fern covered slope, tilting languidly toward a lake. Blue spruce, silver pine, white fir, red cedar—a whole rainbow of evergreens sprang up towards the ashen clouds. The wind, as if following us, brushed its icy hand up my spine. The water, however, remained as still as a window, a stained glass scene of blurry mountains and trees in a wilderness chapel.

The air was so immobile around the lake I thought we may have stepped into a vacuum. I imagined this must be what it felt to have your helmet ripped off in outer space. Utterly breathtaking, this tiny sea commanded reverence.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Ava spread her arms wide and gave a little twirl as if to gesture at the cathedral of nature surrounding us.

The hushed whispers pranced between my ears, pirouetting about my thoughts. I blinked up at the sky, seeing the trees sway, bowing to the lake.

“Just the wind,” I muttered to myself.

“Hm?” Ava had moved closer to the swampy shore and she looked back at my colourless face. “Are you okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

I squinted at her. “I’m fine.”

“Well if you need to hurl, do it away from the moss. I like to lay in it, sometimes.”

“I . . . uh,” I breathed in, trying to banish the annoying crooning in my head. “How many times have you been here?”

“Only a few.”

“And you never told me?” My indigence brought me back to my body. How could she keep this beautiful lake a secret from me?

“The first time I was here I thought it was a dream,” Ava confessed, crouching in some reeds.

I moved closer to the lake as Ava ran her hand over a smooth stone peeking from the water. There was a whole trail of them, leading out into the lake.

“I don’t remember seeing these before,” Ava said.

I couldn’t tell if it was the whispers growing louder in my ear or my own trepidation taking over me, but Ava’s voice sounded distant, entranced.

Another wave of dizziness hit me, as if I were being battered between the immobile lake and the persuasive wind. I reached out a hand, but my sister had already risen and walked towards the centre of the lake. I wanted to follow, but my body held me in place. Still, the whispers raged and the wind coaxed.

“Ava!” I tried to shout, but my voice was as thin as the reeds growing along the murky shore.

I forced a stiff leg forward onto the first stone, my sister already halfway across them. She moved as if sleepwalking, seemingly unconscious.

My heart began to race and I clapped clammy palms over my ears as the murmurs buzzed and roared inside my head. My sister marched on, unbothered by the end of the path swiftly approaching her feet.

“You’ll fall in!” I hissed. My heart began to beat more frantically, knowing my sister couldn’t swim and I couldn’t move.

Ava reached the edge of the final stone, the toes of her shoes touching the water, and I let out a gasping sigh as she stopped.

“Okay, you’ve had your fun! Now come back,” I ordered, my voice only half as strong as I would like it to be.

She turned rigidly and stared past me with unfocused eyes. That familiar breeze raked up my spine and the mumbling voices grew to a frenzied crescendo. The wind, with one last heave, pushed past the shore and I fell to my knees as it collided with my dear sister. Her clothes rustled violently and she toppled backwards like a felled tree into the lake.

The mirrored surface finally rippled as it swallowed Ava into its depths. A scream ripped my throat, echoed by the ravens, and the whispers suddenly fell silent.

I scrambled over the rocks to where my sister stood just moments before. Through teary eyes, I searched the water, but the lake was too murky and dark.

“Ava!” I screeched at the lake. I pawed frantically at the water, foolishly hoping to touch her hand, her head, anything I could grasp and pull above the surface. Everything slipped between my fingers.

The murmuring returned like a low, satisfied chuckle, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand upright. I stood, as well, running clumsily back to the shore, up the slope, and squeezed between the cold stones.

I didn’t stop running until I reached the path in the woods. There I slumped to my knees, bloody and bruised from clambering over the rocks. My lungs and eyes burned and I trembled as I looked around for anything familiar. My eyes met the round, inky orbs of a barn owl. Its head was turned halfway around its body and a mouse hung from its beak by its tail. The poor creature twitched and swung, trying desperately to escape its fate.

I let out a shaky whimper and the owl shrieked, dropping its prey. It flew at me, talons outstretched and I ducked my head between my knees. The bird swooped up into the growing twilight; the mouse scurried away under a leaf.

I rolled over onto my side, hugging my knees to my chest. My shoulders shook with my soft snivelling as I succumbed to the darkness and dizziness. The world slipped away like my dear Ava beneath the waters. My heart slowed and my lungs relaxed into the slow breaths of unconsciousness.