Imagine you’ve begun a hike through the forest. The trail is not marked for the casual explorer, but for those with some skill in noticing subtle details.
Let us add fairies & talking birds to this story, for what’s a good forest story without them??
Trees bow and branches part, revealing a spectacular view of sun & sky. Clouds are artistic, not oppressive, and encouragement comes from every direction. You almost expect to see squirrels & rabbits clearing the path of pinecones and leaves before you. On toward the swatches of purple, orange, and pink sunset sky you walk until you set up camp and take your rest.
You caution yourself, because every story must have a conflict – else, why would it be worth telling??
Come morning, the ground is damp and the sky grey with thick fog. Your back, now unaccustomed to camping, reminds you that you’re too old for such adventures. Struggling to your feet, you accidentally kick a squirrel and immediately hear of his displeasure. The path, once so clear, is full of thickets and overgrowth.
This isn’t your first forest trek, so on you go, watching for trail markers that now appear less often. A vulture perches just ahead, looking at you like he’d be licking his lips if he had any. Behind you, a faint flap of wings is overcome by a passing voice, “There are many vultures, be sure not to stumble – they’re mean.”
Into the fog you trudge on, then you hear the hooting of an owl. As soon as you see the sage of the forest, he asks if you’ve brought all the necessary provisions. “Many hasty and foolish, many unprepared, lie along the rocks below. Do you not see the cliff?” Your foot slips on wet leaves, and just as you regain balance you see what the owl knows. But the promise of treasure and the memories of other hikes carry you forward. Cautiously, of course.
Mid morning, the fog begins to dry up, but the advice doesn’t. A woodpecker pauses to offer his greeting, “beware the chasm – bridge out – no crossing!” Sure enough, you look across to see hanging ropes and boards. Just ahead are the fresh rockslides that once served as anchors. Great. The trail surely starts up again where the bridge is fastened, but how to cross?
An eagle shrieks, dives far below for his prey, and rises again victorious. “Don’t even imagine it,” says a voice behind you, “you aren’t strong enough.”
Overhead, vines sway in a breeze, tantalizing. You begin testing them only to hear crows cawing and echoes of hyena laughter from the other side. “Tarzan?! That’s a made up story, you know.” More laughter.
You begin walking along near the edge, perhaps there’s another crossing or even a place where the chasm narrows or the cliffs are not so treacherous. “Silly human, if only you had wings.” Fairies giggle all around, darting from tree to tree because they can.
The owl is once again perched nearby. “Wise and prepared travelers would know that bridges are unreliable. Did you bring a grappling hook and climbing gear?” Your head begins to dip, and you hear a somber “tsk, tsk” as the owl flies away.
It’s now evening, and you make camp once again. Swaying treetops seem to whisper “turn back, turn back…”
As you lie down, nearly surrendered to a different fate, a chipmunk steps close to your ear and says, “the creator promises new mercies, even joy, in the morning. Sleep peacefully, your journey is not yet complete.”