This is a rewrite of my Halloween 2022 story. It was one of my first stories, and was self-edited. This revised version corrects some errors and enhances the story. I love both characters, and they deserve a better first story. We will be meeting them again soon.
A jilted rodeo cowboy from Texas goes to a remote mountain cabin in Norway, hoping solitude will help him recover from his broken heart. Meeting a forest spirit, he puts her special healing powers to the test.
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Chapter 1
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Suddenly, my body is bathed in a brilliant light.
"Hei!" cries out a human male voice.
"Uff da!" I whisper to myself. My mind was replaying the wonderful music I just heard, and I have ignored my surroundings. A graceful pirouette spins me around on top of the fence railing so I can see who called out. With my arms straight out, I enjoy the swirling of my long white tunic and its billowing sleeves as they flutter in the breeze.
I cross my arms in front of my face to block the light. "Stoppe!"
The man points his torch toward the ground but does not extinguish it. It still casts reflected light, allowing us to see each other. The man looks to be in his late twenties in human years, slim but not especially tall. His reddish-brown hair and beard stand out from an otherwise expressionless face. He is wearing warm wool clothing and odd-looking boots.
"Howdy, mam! Who are you? And why are you standing on my fence?"
He speaks English with a strange accent, though I understand him well enough. I am not keen on being seen by a human and have even less desire to speak to one. I should jump down and run away, but I am curious about the music I heard coming from inside the cabin.
"What is Howdy?" I ask.
"I'm from Texas, mam, and that's just our polite way of saying Hello."
"I was drawn here by your music. You have a nice voice, and your words are meaningful, though the stories they tell are sad. What instrument were you playing?"
"Well, thank you, mam. I was singing country music. I was brung up listening to it, and I suppose the songs I picked are a bit on the sad side. It's kind of the way I've been feeling lately. The instrument you heard was my guitar."
"What is a guitar?" I ask.
"You don't know what a guitar is?" questioned the surprised man.
"I live here in Norway in the forests and have never seen anything called named guitar."
He holds up his hands and spreads them apart. "It's about this long, has six strings on it, and you pluck the strings with your fingers.
"It sounds like a big Hardanger Fiddle, but without a bow. It sounds different, but nice."
"Aren't you a bit underdressed for the last day of October? If you would like to come inside and sit by the fire, I will show you my guitar and sing a happier song."
I dislike fire and do not care to go anywhere near one.
I respond, "Is it that late in the year already? Then, it is time for Alfablot here in Norway, when people make a sacrifice to the elves and honour their ancestors. It marks the time between the end of the harvest season and the cold nights that await us on the other side. It is not safe for you to be outside after dark. Dark elves and evil spirits are wandering about. But don't worry, I will protect you."
"All the same, mam, I can take care of myself."
"Do not be boastful about things of which you know not."
"My family is originally from Ireland, several generations ago, and I still have cousins there. My grandfather moved to Boston, and later, my father got a job in Texas. Texas is where I was raised, and it's where I live. My grandfather would try to scare us young'uns by telling us stories about the Irish festival of Samhain. He said the veils between the living and the dead were at their thinnest, and spirits could pass through the barrier into the land of the living. Samhain is a time when witches and faeries move about the land. People in Ireland are still afraid to cut down a faerie tree or cross a circle of stones that might be a faerie ring, fearing they will disappear forever."
"Your grandfather is a smart man! Heed his words, Texas."
"I stopped believing his stories when I was twelve years old."
Texas is a fool. I should leave him to his fate. I heard gunshots two days ago and wonder if he might be the hunter.
"Why are you here on the mountainside? Are you a hunter?"
"No, I don't hunt. I have cousins who come here every summer and keep saying how purty it is, and I just wanted to enjoy the beauty of nature and find some quiet solitude."
I am relieved to hear that. He is not the one shooting at the animals in my forest.
"It truly is beautiful here in my forest," I reply. "But I must go now."
"Wait! It has been lonely here for the last two weeks. I would love to talk some more."
"Then come up onto the fence railing and dance with me!"
"I'll take that as a challenge!" he yells back. "I can dance a pretty mean two-step."
He climbs onto the narrow rail. His feet are large and make him less agile, so he sways to keep his balance. I laugh at him, then dance teasingly along the top of another rail. He quickly recovers and follows me along the fence top. I push off and leap to another rail, keeping my balance as I land. He tries to follow, one foot landing on a rail, then thrashes about with his arms. I reach out to offer him a hand, then quickly pull it back. The man loses his balance and topples backward.
"Why did you pull your hand back?"
I look down at him sitting in the soft dirt and laugh. "You said you can take care of yourself! You said you knew how to dance the two-step. It looks to me like you can only dance a one-step. Go back inside and practice. If you ignore the warnings of your grandfather and are brave enough to venture out into the darkness, follow me!"
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Chapter 2
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I leap off the fence and run across a small meadow towards a tightly packed birch forest. I should have no problem reaching it first. A half moon is rising over my shoulder, illuminating the dappled white bark of the trees, casting long shadows. The same light also makes it easier for Texas to see me, so I hope he won't get lost.
Reaching the trees, I slow down and glance back. I see his darkened form, outlined in the silver-blue moonlight. The man runs well for a human and is closing, but the advantage is still mine. I dash into the understory of low ferns, the green of their youth fading to orange and yellow. The moist ground is still springy, and each step releases the rich earthly smell of the forest. The birch trees are tightly packed, making it difficult for me to run very far in a straight line, so I leap laterally between the trees and resume running.
I hear him thrashing through the ferns behind me, and I spring laterally once more. A few more bounds, then I cut back onto my original path. I vary my speed based on the sounds he is making, not letting myself get too far ahead, or him too far behind. As I emerge from the birch trees, I come to an open area strewn with rocks and fallen trees, remnants of a forgotten avalanche. I gracefully leap over the tangle of trees and resume running.
Ahead and to my left, I hear a waterfall and know there will be a stream to cross. A little further on, I reach the bank, then take two strides down and leap over the water to the opposite bank. I sense him close behind me. A grunting sound reaches my ears as he leaps from the top of the bank, his hand brushing against my bare foot as he stretches out and tries to grasp me. But I elude him, and continue up the bank, leaving his prone body behind. I decide to hide.
Running over the crest, I am back in the birch forest. I spy a leaf-filled depression, dive into it, and say a nature spell to swirl the dry leaves over me. I look back and watch the stream bank, remaining perfectly still and quiet. I hold a leaf up in front of my face, my eyes barely peeking over it, and he appears. He cannot see or hear me and looks puzzled. The understory on this side of the stream has no ferns, and there is no visible trail for him to follow.
He walks up close to my hiding place and fails to see me. But the thrill for me is the chase, not the deception, so I change the spell. My leaf blanket lifts into a swirling vortex, and I spin it around him to obscure his vision. Seizing the moment, I rise, dashing back to the stream, then follow it downhill.
"Clever girl!" Texas yells, stepping out of the whirlwind.
I hop between the stream banks, stepping gingerly onto the wet rocks. Splashes from his missteps announce the distance between us. Suddenly, I come to a steep drop with a small waterfall and a quiet pool at the bottom. I glance back, then make a leap only a forest spirit could survive, landing softly on the level bank below. Looking around, I see something unexpected and freeze. A few moments later, a winded Texas walks beside me and takes my hand.
Looking at me, he asks, "Why have you stopped running?"
"Shhhhhh", I reply.
