At last, they had arrived. Old Evrard was tallying up the numbers. Before reaching the city's gates, the soldier considered the cost of the journey to their small group. Seven short days and six long nights were spent in the cold, unyielding arms of the forest—a dark embrace they would never forget, their bodies and spirits tested to the limit.

Three days behind schedule, a mule they’d had to put down themselves after an inexplicable fall, two men who had mysteriously vanished, and a third driven mad after being pulled out of a hollow trunk that had tried to swallow him whole. A charcoal burner’s son, Evrard, recalled what they used to say about where he came from: “The forest gives, the forest takes.” It was a selfish mistress who offered gifts to no one. He was cold and scared, his heart aching for the safety of the city’s tall towers.

Too tired to question their height or strange presence in such a hostile place, he told himself he’d think about it later—or perhaps never. All that mattered at that moment was the promise of protection those towers offered. Tomorrow, the merchant they were escorting would buy the precious pearls harvested at the foot of the great waterfall—the Hunter’s Leap—that brought wealth to the city.

Let the deal be done quickly, and may they return to the light, eager to escape the cold gloom of the branches that crowned their horizon. For its part, the forest was not just a backdrop but a character in its own right, with its wisdom and secrets, knowing the answers to all the rider’s questions.

It had seen the towers rise and silently received the challenge they seemed to throw at it.
It had been there before, and it would be there after.
It knew what had happened to the two guards.
It knew you should only burn deadwood to light a fire.
It knew they should have camped closer to the path.
It knew the words to say when crossing a ford, the offerings to leave on the shore you depart from, and on the one you reach.
It knew all these rules, and as a stern teacher, it had long taught them to the city’s inhabitants, who had learned their lessons well.
And now, it would teach those same lessons to these ignorant travelers.

It, too, kept count. And its records were always precise. Let these travelers rest their minds to the sound of the great waterfall, enjoy the pearls, and have a brief moment of peace. Like the others, they had come, they would leave, and the lesson would begin again.

And in the mysterious book of branches, the forest would continue to tally the accounts on every page."

Nicolas Weis