The Edge of the Wood

A note from the author. This piece of fiction is an exercise in non-gendered writing in relation to a single character. The child who the author wanted to portray as undefined in gender is referred to as They/Them. This was a very fun exercise as it proved challenging to re-structure sentences with more than one subject and in doing so to clearly identify whom is being spoken of in each phrase, or to have a sentence convey that a single person was being spoken of while using the They/Them pronoun.

I hope you enjoy it!

A child was stumbling around, in the way that very young children do, at the edge of a thick wood. Clumsy and determined, happily plodding along on the soft moss. The child spotted a stick and slowly bent over with interest to investigate, with great effort and fingers outstretched from the tiny palm they tried to grasp onto the stick. One, two, three attempts, and the stick was in their hand.

Squatting down the little child slowly raised themself back up to a standing position, rising slowly they teetered front to back, bending their knees they managed to finally stabilize. The child stuck the stick in their mouth thoughtfully and continued their wandering, hand on stick, stick in mouth. The whole ordeal with the stick had re-oriented the child's direction so that they were no longer cruising the edge of the wood, and as they continued on for some time, they had happened to go into the forest, rather than around it. The broad little feet planted solidly and methodically, and with each labored step on the soft moss of the forest floor the child went deeper into the woods.

Suddenly they came to a stop and slowly the cherubesque hand of a child extended to investigate. Originally the child had reached out with a flat palm, but then, deciding to err on the side of caution extended a single finger. Reaching out the tiny index finger gently touched a mushroom that was growing on the side of a felled tree, which happened to be blocking the child's current path. The mushroom was growing off the log like a step and was dry and white like a plate on the top.

The child squatted down and craned their neck peering up at the underside of the mushroom, It was brown and had funny, squiggly, bumply, lines. Reaching up a hand, the whole palm this time, they ran it over the mushrooms' ridges. The child withdrew their head from the investigation and grabbing ahold of the edge of the mushroom with two hands stood up, leaned over, and put their mouth on the edged of the mushroom to gnaw on it, just a little.

The investigation complete, the child dragged its hands gently over the moss covering on top of the log, while gazing up and down this massive object that lay before them. Looking over the top they could still see the forest floor on the other side of the log, and so the child began the immense task of getting on top of it.

The mushroom seemed like a good place to start, and so the child tried pulling themselves up from there. This proved somewhat effective and they were able to get one arm over the top of the log, they then proceeded kicking a foot wildly in an attempt to plant it on top of the mushroom, to no avail. The child wiggled back and forth jumping from one foot to the other until both arms and the upper chest were planted squarely over the log.

As the child dangled with their chubby feet an inch above the ground some birds flitted back and forth overhead. The efforts of the child had produced more than a little commotion and had drawn the attention of a few flocks of songbirds, who had sent a few scouts to determine if what they heard was a large predator entering their territory.

A rather bold chickadee flew down and alighted on the log in front of the child.

"Chika dee dee dee," it said, the child looked at it wide-eyed and wonderful

"bah!" came the enthusiastic response.

The child was now more determined than ever to conquer the log and swinging its hips from side to side, struggling to hoist themself on top of it. Finally, after much excited hopping up and down on the log by the chickadee, and much swinging of legs from the child, and a whole bunch of twitters and tweets, goos and gagas, the child succeeded in getting their left leg on top of the log and then pulling themselves into a plank position with a leg hanging over each side of the log.

Straightening up their arms, the child raised themself triumphantly into a seated position.

"Bah!" they called to the hopping chickadee. "Bah! Bah!", they repeated slapping the log in front of them with two hands. The chickadee edged forward curiously to where the child could almost grasp the little bird.

The child drew in a long breath and readied themself.

"Baah!" came the cry louder than before as the outstretched hands lunged forward toward the bird.

Shocked, the bird recoiled momentarily and then regaining his senses flew up to join its flock who were now flitting about, in an uproar in the branches above.

The child, meanwhile had not followed through on their intended action of catching the little bird. Instead, they had landed with their chest against the top of the log, and bouncing a bit from the force of intention had presently rolling off their perch, and landed on soft moss, on other side of the log. Though the child had landed softly, the forest floor on this side of the log was a bit lower and they were now exhausted, deeper in the wood, and unable to return the way they had entered.

At first the child lay silently for a moment trying to understand the sudden turn of events, then the cries of frustration began which caused an even greater commotion from the flock above as the baby screamed in anger, and a little bit of hunger. The birds whizzed and danced above him in the sky, calling on even more of their ilk to investigate the strange and very noisy creature.

All the action overhead was eventually enough to distract the child from their tears, as they stared up at the flying and flitting birds. The child's eyes tracked the red, white, and brown bellies that flew overhead, brown and black splotches and stripes jumped and bobbed around on the tree branches.

Then the child emitted another sound different than the first, laughter. Shrieks of joy met the cacophony of the flock as the child, still prone, reached their arms and legs up toward the birds, causing an even greater amount of excitement from the winged denizens of the forest.

Cheeks wet with tears the child paused their laughter to rub their eyes with the backs of their hands. Following the sudden silence another bold little bird, this time a nut hatch, flew down landed and nearby on the forest floor. The child rolled over and sat themself in a low squat. They looked at the log and did not see the mushroom anymore, they turned their head and then saw the dancing bird on the forest floor, and naturally followed it deeper into the forest.

The child was now crawling skillfully as they were much more adept at this form of motion they moved at a remarkable speed, occasionally raising themselves off their knees and crawling with hands and feet. Eagerly they followed the singing and dancing birds. Here and there the songbirds flitted down to land in front of the child marking a path deeper and deeper into the woods.

"Bah bah bah!" the child called after the little birds who stopped momentarily as they heard another sound inaudible to the child. An owl was hooting softly in the distance, having been woken early by the raucous noises in the wood. Again the owl hooted louder and more pronounced this time, the chirping and twittering of the songbirds hushed, and the child's little friends suddenly stopped completely.

A great commotion of ruffling feathers and movement in the air and the child found that the birds had left, spreading themselves out among the forest to greet the oncoming twilight. The wood grew silent and the child became frightened.

"Hoot."

The child heard the mournful cry that time and sat down on the soft moss, looking up to find the source of the noise. Way up in a big branch above the child was a large, strange face staring down toward the forest floor.

The rather large face looking down at them reminded the child of the underside of the mushroom on the log, and they kept staring up at the creature as it slowly rocked its body from side to side, stepping along the branch to inch closer to the child.

As it walked it raised its giant fluffy sides and the child saw that it had wings.

"Bah?" spoke the child questioningly and then bowed its little head trying to rub the sleep from its eyes. When the child had removed their hands from tired eyes they saw that the forest was bathed in purple light and small red mushrooms dotted the moss in a ring around where they sat.

Suddenly, distracted by the memory of hunger the child motioned to move to investigate the little red-topped objects.

"Hoot!", the owl called purposefully and in a silent flutter of wings alighted inside the ring and began circling the child, pulling its attention away from the mushrooms. The child sat back down and putting hands on knees they looked up at the bard owl's face.

"Bah!" the child implored to the owl, who stood head cocked peering at the child intently.

"Hoot." replied the owl.

"Bah Bah!" the child reached up toward the great creature, as they were getting quite tired and dearly wished to be held.

The forest was growing darker and a mist started to fall upward from the mushroom ring, maybe it had not just started but it was now only dark enough to see the soft drops of light which rose in the way that rain falls off the edge of a skyscraper.

The owl peered at the child in the darkness, the edge of its feathered body tinted purple from the light of dusk which refracted through the mushroom veil and caused the fiery fairy ring to glow a soft violet.

"Have you wandered here alone human child?" and as the owl spoke a silence, utter and complete descended upon the wood, with each syllable that came from the their still beak the child felt its eyelids grow heavy, and a weightyness settled upon its tired limbs.

"Who lets a young one wander alone into the woods? Are you brave or foolish my child?" asked the owl.

The child sagged low as it sat staring at the owl

"Upah!" the child managed to respond as it began to nest itself into the soft moss feeling too weary to sit up any longer.

The forest had grown dark and the child could see nothing behind the shimmering veil that rose from the mushrooms. The child was cold and hungry, bringing their fists up to their eyes they attempted to rub and rub the sleep from them. The child wanted to be warm, to eat, to be held. Slowly they let out a long plaintive wail.

The owl gazed upon the child mercifully. The glowing veil sparked and fluttered around the pair and the circlet of the fairy ring became a full moon on the forest floor.

"I can make you warm, feed you, and help you get up" offered the owl. The childs wail was beginning to change to a high pitch shriek of frustration. They reached out to the owl for aid unaware in their stupor of the glowing forest floor and the wall of light that surrounded them.

"Who has left you to disappear into the darkness?" spoke the owl once again as the veil turned in on the child in a great toroid of enveloping light. The child opened its tired eyes and stared at the owl.

They uttered something indiscernible to the owl, and outstretched their arms, making grasping motions with their tiny hands, fold and unfold went the tiny fingers. The owl stepped toward the child who clung onto the it with tiny fists and nestled their face into the warm feathered body of the owl.

The child yawned again and rubbed their face against the owl who stood silent and still. The child leaned into the owl and settled sleepily into the moss, falling into a deep deep slumber.

The owl did not like being on the ground, the magic of the ring surrounded them but it was not enough to preserve the child. Away in the darkness, the owl could hear the ground walkers, those of tooth and claw who searched the forest floor at night.

The owl knew the child could not be left on the ground, nor should the owl stay there either.

Shutting their eyes the owl thought of hunting, soaring over the forest floor. The baby stirred and woke the owl from its reverie who turned and laid its soft warm belly over the sleeping child.

As the night went on the owl watched, feathers puffed up to protect against the cold of the forest floor. The owl longed to hunt that night but knew that if they flew off then the child would be swallowed by the forest night.

They sat intently and puffed up their feathers some more,

"What manner of guardian has not come to claim you?" thought the owl to themself.

As the night wore on light again began to creep into the edge of the forest. The owl sighed and stretched its wings, hungry but welcoming the sleep that daylight promised.

The child lay still on the ground, the light from the mushrooms swirled and pulsated as the child tossed and turned, rousing itself from slumber. Then the child cried as its shell of sleep was broken and it rejoined the waking world.

The strange mushroom-faced bird was still there. The child's face warped into anger and fear and the crying increased at the shock of waking in an unfamiliar place, the curtain of light was shooting high into the trees, and droplets of liquid light rained down on the child. The bard owl stood erect looming over the child and staring intently into its face.

Dawn was upon the forest and there was no longer darkness with which to see the light of the mushroom ring.

A bard owl and its owlet sat on the ground.

"Hoot", spoke the owl,

"Hoot?" returned the owlet uncertainly.

Together they flew up to the crook of a tree and settled in for a long day's sleep.

"Too late," thought the owl, "Too late to come and find what the forest has claimed."

The owl looked at the owlet who was settling down fluffy and warm in its coat of downy feathers.

"The child is mine now." said the owl to no one in particular.

"Hoot," replied the owlet sleepily.