The Path They Took

(Early fiction for Canyons)

“I know it’s not a wind chime, but it was a good idea.” Benigar gave a tight smile. Mae’s compliments were few and far between but he’d enjoy it more if he hadn’t noted the anxiety in her pitch. Before they set out, Benigar fastened some clustered pieces of glass, hardware, and various trinkets to his and Mae’s packs. They produced more of a jangle than a jingle, but served well at drowning out the silence. “Even makes me feel a bit safer, silly as it is.” She watched the collection on her brother’s pack jump and dance as he tramped ahead of her. The path before them appeared curved, as if it had been intentionally carved through a maturing forest. It was the forest itself, however, that encroached on the road, hungrily chewing away at a once straightforward trade route that connected multiple outposts to their regional stronghold. The change felt gradual to those that regularly traversed the path, but carried an element of foreboding. Lush, vibrant, and robust greenery wilted and withered but instead of shrinking back, it grew emboldened; seemingly decaying tree branches and rotting vines stretched and grasped as if their purpose was to cross the road. It was at this point that work animals refused the path. Perhaps a trophy from bygone days, a splintered wagon wheel remained visible enough to tell the story of winners and losers along this path. Gnarled roots and noxious weeds erupted greedily between its axles. “Do you suppose…” Mae’s voice trailed off as she glanced into the tangled woods behind it. The forest hummed softly back. “We keep walking, Mae!” Benigar’s hand roughly pulled back on Mae’s shoulder. She looked down at her ankles, suddenly stinging with fresh bites from the thorny brush. Benigar took a firm hold of Mae’s hand that lay limply at her side. The twenty foot walk back to the trail felt like wading through water. “Sorry, I just…” Mae stammered, her tongue heavy as she tried to remember what compelled her to stop. “Guess I’m stuck going at your tiny pace.” Benigar smirked, exaggerating his stride in quick, miniature steps while glancing at the noisemaker he fashioned, chest pounding. “Guess so.” Mae took a swig of her canteen, feeling the cool water run down her throat and into her stomach. Her body felt hers again. She watched as their legs moved in unison, Benigar’s brown-booted foot dwarfing hers. She focused on the beat their steps produced, the pulse propelling her forward. Benigar gave her hand a light squeeze. “We’ll get there soon.”