Good Fortune

I can hear their heartbeats under the snow. Tiny little hearts, pulsing like muffled drums beneath layers of fresh powder. The wind whistles past my ears and under my wings. The night is cold and clear. I fly. I listen. Beat, beat, beat.

I bank to my right, arcing over snow-dusted pines, my wingtips grazing their icy needles. I am an excellent flier now. I have finally learned the language of the wind. The silent, invisible currents speak clearly as they carry me up and away from the world of men. I fly north, towards the distant shape of the mountains on the horizon. Above me is a blanket of stars. Below me is a vast expanse of snow-covered trees. Frozen lakes appear in flashes of white. They glow in the moonlight. I am not far from my prison, the barn that I have come to think of as my home.

Beat, beat, beat. I feel the hunger gnaw in my belly. It has been several days since I have eaten. I will hold out as long as I can. I think of my mother.

Eventually I will hunt. My talons will snatch a field mouse from beneath the drifts. The furry body will tremble before I crush it in my beak. Beat, beat, silence.

I don't want to do it. But I will. I know it, he knows it. He's counting on me to do it. It is part of the punishment.

But for now, the little mice are safe. The memory of waking in the cold morning, naked and freezing in the barn with the taste of blood in my mouth and bits of fur beneath my nails is enough to turn my appetite. Tonight, I will enjoy the quiet darkness, the shimmer of moonlight on my wings, and the muffled sounds of animals carrying out their natural inclinations in this forest life.

Tomorrow will be another day for them, but not for me. I am anything but natural.

Nearly ten years ago, my husband brought me to these woods.

He rode into our meager hamlet on a horse that was black as soot against the stark white snow. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen, and the wealthiest. His bright eyes danced like jewels from his wind-kissed face. He wore a belt of gold, studded with gems, and his horse’s bridle was a long golden chain. Seeing all that gold ignited something ugly inside me. I wanted him, but I wanted his gold more. I would make him mine.

Only Khara, the Village Elder questioned him when he arrived.

“Who are you?” She said. “You are a stranger to our village.” I stood nearby, waiting for an opportunity to catch his eye.

"I am a hunter," answered the stranger, teeth gleaming white against his dark beard. I shivered at his voice. What riches would be mine, if we married?

“How does a hunter come by so much gold?” Elder Khara said. But the stranger had moved on. He was looking around the village. His hungry, knowing gaze landed on me.

The stars glitter in the sky as I glide over the forest. I wonder if the Great Spirits are watching me from those twinkling lights. What must they think of me? Do they believe my punishment is fair?

The stranger stayed for many nights. The village women gathered around my mother to gossip about him. I had no father to provide for me. My mother’s greatest wish was for me to marry rich, and give her the life she had been denied. She believed I was destined to marry a prince. I had no friends. I had made enemies of the girls my age. I had kissed their sweethearts just because I could. I would never marry a farmer’s son, but I liked the power my beauty gave me.

My mother was strategic, logical, enterprising. Don’t think of the cost, she said. We do what needs doing. We cheated to get ahead. We took more than we gave. Lying is necessary, my mother would say. All will be forgiven when you find a man worthy of your beauty. We will be generous when we are rich. Don’t fret. I didn’t really believe her. But then the man and the gold actually appeared.

He called himself Jorgen. The village women wondered why a man such as he would come to our little hamlet. Every mother shared the unspoken question.

“He wants a wife. I will present my Diana to him immediately,” my mother said. The women looked sideways at one another, but no one challenged her. Bad things happened to those who went against my mother.

Only Elder Khara said, “Perhaps we should be wary. His wealth seems unnatural. Perhaps he is a bad spirit, here to tempt us into wickedness?”

To that my mother said, “Be quiet. You only speak of wickedness because you must be wicked yourself. After all, you have no daughters.”

Elder Khara could not argue with that. She had not been blessed with children, to her shame.

My mother went on. “The spirits have favored Diana with beauty. Jorgen’s presence here is proof of yet another blessing upon her.”

The women made signs with their hands to ward off such blasphemy. But they would be glad to see the back of us, when the time came. I can hardly remember their faces now.

An orange glow flickers in the trees below. Fire. Torches. Men. I wheel around, swooping towards the light. I screech a warning. They have lost the path. Without my help they will die in these woods. I beat my wings. Beneath the trees there is no wind, so I am on my own, fighting to stay aloft. If I can reach them in time, I will lead them to safety. They will follow, since barn owls are a sign of good fortune in our lands.

Jorgen agreed to marry me. On our wedding night there was a great feast. The ale flowed and they spit a fat hog in the square. My mother sat in the place of honor next to us, sneering down at the townsfolk. Her eyes glowed with greed as she followed the jewels on Jorgen’s hand. He touched my face, rubies glinting in the firelight. His other hand was warm on my thigh. My heart pounded as he kissed me. Beat, beat, beat, it thumped in my chest.

I am forced to land on a low branch before gravity can pull me closer to earth. The snow fell three feet deep last night, and I have no desire to flounder in it waiting for something in this wood to eat me. The men are still far off, but I can hear their voices. Two men speaking. They are afraid. Then a child’s voice. A child!

Children had danced at our wedding. We joined in, until Jorgen announced we would depart for his estate. Your mother will live with us, he said. The three of us set off in a sled pulled by the black horse. My mother sat next to me. The journey took hours through the snow. Finally, we stopped at an old barn, surrounded by nothing but trees.

"This is where you will live, my sweet Diana." Jorgen crooned. I looked around in dismay, but there was only the barn. No estate. I failed to notice he didn’t say "we."

"This dwelling is meager, husband," I said as I climbed down from the sled. I saw that his belt was no longer golden, nor was the bridle on his horse. A trick of the light? He pulled my face towards his, looking into my eyes. His fingers had no rings.

“Do you love me still, now that you see I am without the fortune you desire?" He said. Not a trick of the light, then. I thought, what does my mother want me to say? Perhaps it was a test.

“I love you now, as I loved you yesterday.” The lie came easily to me.

My mother was listening, thin lips pursed. A cold barn in the deep woods was not to her liking. She stayed in the sled until he beckoned.

“Come inside, both of you. I have something to show you.” We followed him inside, hoping for any sign of wealth.

The barn smelled of hay and animals. There were no stacks of gold, no chests of jewels. Where was he hiding it all? I froze when my eye caught on a pile of grey lumps in the corner. Tiny pellets of bones, teeth, and skulls were stuck together by matted fur.

I looked up into the dark rafters and saw nothing. My heart thumped in my chest. Beat, beat, beat.

I was afraid.

"This house will not do." My mother was saying. Her frown was an ugly scowl. "You tricked us," she said, pointing a bony finger.

"Yes,” he said, in a voice that stung like frostbite. I shivered with unease. He lit a solitary lamp and closed the door.

The child's voice is so sweet in the dark that I want to weep. He is asking his father if they are lost. I look around, perched on a branch. I am always looking behind me, hoping to outfly the memory of that night. But it remains fresh as new snow, and just as cold.

Jorgen approached us, black boots scraping on the wood floor. The barn grew darker, and new shadows formed on his face. I smiled up at him, uneasy. He did not smile back.

Beat, beat, beat.

In the flickering light, his features twisted into an ugly sneer. He grew taller, looming over us. His wild eyes glowed with unnatural light. The man before us was not my husband, not a man at all. He was a spirit of the woods, come to punish us for our wickedness, just as Elder Khara had warned.

“I am Jorgen,” said the spirit. “My name is whispered by the trees when their branches twist in the wind. It is screamed from the throats of beasts as they hunt in the night. I protect the Dark Woods, and all who travel within it.” He pointed to my mother. “You are a scheming, greedy, opportunist. Now you will run for your life.”

He lunged for her. Wrapping one hand around her neck, he shook her violently until she began to shrink in his giant fist. She became smaller and smaller, until she vanished. In her place was a brown mouse huddled on a pile of clothes, whiskers twitching. Jorgen waved his hand, and the door flew open. The mouse ran out into the night.

He pointed to me and said, “You are a vain, wicked girl. You use beauty for power, and value gold over friends, over neighbors, over love itself.”

Then he laid his hands on my neck and bent me like a willow until my dress fell away. I tried to cover myself but there were wings where my hands used to be. The spirit Jorgen spoke again.

“There is still good inside you. You will serve me until you find it. Protect my woods. Let no man be harmed here. Go.”

I flew from the barn on unsteady wings.

Now that I am nearing the men, I fly in short bursts, hopping between branches. Soon they will spot me, and I will save them from certain death. I have saved many from the wicked cold of Jorgen’s Dark Wood. They banter with each-other to stay warm, to keep their fear at bay. So much love in these voices, I think.

I hear Elder Khara’s warning on the wind as I approach. But they need not fear me, I am not a bad spirit. I don’t carry gold to tempt them with. I offer only the chance to keep living their lives. That is the best fortune of all.