C. P. Cabaniss Writing Project discussion

One - Calan Age 16

Legend says that the forest was once a single, vast expanse. That there was trade between the tribes, travel beyond the bounds of the trees, and that Whisper Wood–or the Bone Wood, as most of us call it–didn’t exist.

But these are only stories. If there is any truth to the myths, it’s been obscured by time. Our records date back a thousand years and every scroll warns of Whisper Wood and its dangers. We are taught from birth to be wary of the white, skeletal trees and their fingers that reach toward the sky; to never listen to the whispers that echo from the depths of this ghostly stretch of forest that surrounds us.

I suppose it’s wrong to say that the stories are false, but they aren’t the whole truth. Although Whisper Wood has always existed, the tribes did trade, and there was travel beyond the trees. But that was before the war. Before the whispers in Whisper Wood became dangerous, before the trees took on their ghostly appearance.

Before those who tried to travel across its breadth started returning changed or not at all.

We all know the myths, good and bad, but a thousand years have passed since the war. A lot can change in a thousand years.

“You’re really going to do it, aren’t you?”

My hands fall still on my pack as I turn toward the sound of the voice. Tala stands in the doorway, head cocked to one side, expression blank as she studies me. I’ve known her my whole life and I still don’t know what to make of her tone.

“You’re an idiot, Calan,” she sighs. “But I guess everyone has to try at least once.”

I rock back on my heels, pack forgotten as I regard her in a new light. “You’ve visited the Whisper Wood?”

She raises her chin to better look down at me. Her green eyes glow in the light that flickers through the room. For a moment, I think she has something to tell me. Something important.

But then she shakes her head and the moment is gone.

I turn back to my pack, cinch it tight, and rise to my feet. Tala is still watching, but she doesn’t try to stop me as I walk to the door, pull it open, and toss my pack down, ready to follow. I have one foot on the ladder before she speaks.

“Be careful, Cal.”

Our eyes lock when I look up. “Don’t tell Mom and Dad, yeah?”
She gives one small nod that could be agreement or farewell, maybe both. Then she turns back into the house, disappearing before I take a step down.

The descent is long when you’re trying to be quiet, but I don’t linger when my feet hit the ground. Retrieving my pack, I take one look up at the house high above me, tamp down the niggle of fear that sits in my stomach, and take the first step toward the Bone Wood.

***

Maps of the Great Forest–which is what some people call the forest as a whole–place our tribe in a small portion of forest completely surrounded by the Bone Wood, which means it should be easy to find. I hope.

My shoulders relax the further I travel from home. Music and voices from the houses high overhead carry down and it feels like any other day. In theory, I should be able to go any direction and find the Bone Wood, so I avoid the paths that would lead me past too many familiar faces. The last thing I need is someone reporting to Mom and Dad exactly where I’ve gone.

“Cal!”

My muscles tense for a moment as worry that I’ve been found out already creeps into my mind, but then I register the voice and release a long breath. Meklin is almost level with me when I turn, his long hair tied back in a tail that swings as he jogs to catch up.

“I slipped out when I saw you pass,” he explains as he catches his breath. “I thought I could go with you to the perimeter.”

I raise my brows. “Nervous for your turn?”

“No,” he says too quickly.

He pauses when I start off again and I think he might turn back, but he takes three bounding strides and catches up to me. We drew lots to decide who would take the first trip. There had been a collective sigh of relief from everyone else when I pulled the short stick, though they all feigned disappointment.

Meklin doesn’t speak and I’m grateful. Conversation would only call more attention to us. It’s bad enough that he will have to turn back without me. Then again, maybe he can be my cover. If anyone asks, he can always tell them I went home by a different path.

As we travel, the houses overhead grow further apart. Most of the tribe live in large clusters of houses, bridges slung between them. Those who live in these far flung houses are either reclusive and wouldn’t care about two boys passing below or are too busy to bother about us.

“How do we know when we reach the perimeter?” The question is quiet, almost a whisper. There are no guards to keep us within the bounds of the tribe.

I’m about to poke fun at his nerves when I realize our footsteps are the only thing I hear. No more voices or music from the houses in the treetops; no scurry of animal feet; no wind. When I focus ahead, I see it: a bone white tree, its bare branches reaching toward the sky.

“I think we found it,” I whisper back, nodding.

When his gaze lands on the tree, Meklin freezes, eyes going wide. His throat bobs when he swallows. He takes a small step backward.

“Good luck,” he tells me. Then he turns and runs.

I am alone on the edge of the Bone Wood.

***