Lily and the Lion

  By Erica MacLeod

  Lily and the Lion

  Copyright 2014 Erica MacLeod

  Lily and the Lion

  With only the darkness of night to cover her, Lily rushes through the open field, skirts brushing the tall grass and wildflowers as she moves. She glances behind her at the warm glow of light from the village before surging forward once again. No one is following her, but the sense of urgency doesn’t vanish.

  It’s only once she is within the forest that she slows her pace. The panic fades quickly, bubbling out of her with a quiet laugh as she leans against a tree to catch her breath. The woods, these trees, are safe. The village is safe too, but the field … the open field always feels dangerous. Even in the daylight, with the cheery little wildflowers dancing in the sunshine, the field doesn’t feel safe. The wild animals scurry through the tall grasses, never lingering long. They can feel it too.

  There is talk of a witch who roams the fields disguised as an old woman. She never steps foot in the villages, too many people they say, or in the woods, not enough people. She roams the fields and lays a curse upon all whom cross her path. Lily has never seen such a figure roaming the field, but it doesn’t stop her from rushing across it every night.

  Lily wanders slowly through the trees, footfalls nearly silent as she makes her way down the well-worn path. She takes the same path each night; so does he. Leander. The thought of him brings a smile to her face and makes her walk a little faster. They have been best friends since they were small and they’ve both fallen gracefully from friendship to love over the last summer. Their parents have tried to keep them apart, forbade them from seeing each other, so they’ve resorted to meeting at their hiding spot under the cover of darkness each night while the rest of the world sleeps on.

  “Leander,” she whispers, nearing their spot. At first, she hears nothing but the wind whispering through the trees. After the night noise of the forest settles in, though, she hears it. Not too far away, there is a soft rustling in the bushes. “Leander?”

  As she draws closer, the rustling grows louder and something that sounds like a soft growl comes from the darkness. Lily freezes in place. There are dangerous animals that occupy these woods, animals like bears and cougars, animals that could make a meal out of a person. Fear keeps her still, but when the sounds settle down again, curiosity gets the better of her. Slowly she takes another step towards their clearing and peers around the tree, only to find a lion staring back at her.

  With a gasp, Lily stumbles, feet catching roots and sending her sprawling. The lion lets out a vicious roar that has even the trees shivering in fear. Lily scrambles backwards, trying to escape from the beast bearing down on her. As it stalks closer, eyes boring holes into her, Lily’s fingers curl around the small knife at waist. It’s a short curved blade with a bone handle, a knife her father gave to her and taught her to use. Never before had she been so grateful for her father’s lessons as she thrust the knife in front of her, keeping it between her body and the lion. It is only a small blade and would only serve to injure the beast should it come to that, but it is her only defense at the moment.

  The beast stops its advance, letting out another roar as it stares at her. Suddenly, laughter erupts from the shadows. Lily pushes herself to her feet, backing up cautiously as she splits her attention between the lion and the darkness behind it.

  “Show yourself,” she whispers, fear making her voice quiver. The hand holding the knife, however, is steady; she’s prepared to use the weapon to defend herself if needs be.

  Lily watches the forest around her cautiously as the laughter seems to move and travel in the night air, slowly circling her. From behind the lion, a figure begins to emerge. It’s cloaked in darkness even as it steps from the shadows, a darkness that hushes all noise the in the forest. A hood is tossed back and there stands an old woman grinning at her, eyes black as the starless night sky. She holds a staff in her gnarled hands, a staff that she taps on the ground twice sending a ripple through the earth.

  The dirt beneath her feet moves and Lily gasps, struggling to keep her footing as she stumbles backwards. She catches her balance against a tree and looks up again as the old woman cackles. The laughter sends a shiver through her; it sounds too evil to have come from an old woman. It’s only when she brushes her fingers through the lion’s mane that Lily understands who she is. The witch.

  Fear racing through her, Lily turns on her heel and flees blindly through the woods. Behind her, the witch cackles again and the lion roars ferociously, spurring her on faster. Her feet rush over the ground, catching on branches and roots that send her stumbling. She doesn’t stop though, just pushes herself up and keeps going, too afraid of what will happen if she stops.

  The edge of the field is just coming into sight when her foot tangles in some ivy and sends her body crashing to the ground. Lily cries out even as she tries to get up again. Her fingers are scrabbling in the dirt for purchase when she feels something under her palm. Her fingers wrap around a familiar chain. Even in her panic, Lily would recognize the rose medallion dangling before her eyes.

  “Leander.” Her voice is barely audible between the gasps of breath. She looks around frantically, hoping to catch sight of him. Maybe he saw the lion too and fled the woods, dropping his medallion in his haste. Even as she hopes for it, though, Lily knows this is not the case. Leander beats her to the clearing every night, has for the better part of the summer since he started to sprout like a weed.

  “Leander!” she cries desperately, hoping for an answer she knows will not come. When there is only silence to reply, she collapses against the tree with the force of her sobs. She twines the chain between her fingers and brings the medallion to rest against her chest.

  The trees rustle around her, suddenly loud after the forced stillness by the witch. Their branches bend low in sympathy, reaching around to protect her against the rest of the night. The forest is restless now, after the presence of the witch. Lily can feel it in her bones. Something just isn’t right.

  Slowly, as the light of dawn begins to creep over the horizon, the realization of what happened comes upon her. Leander hadn’t been slain by the lion. No, that’s not what the witch does. She doesn’t kill anyone outright. She curses them, twists them to her own pleasure and takes them away. No, Leander wasn’t dead. He was the lion.

  “No!” she cries out, pushing to her feet. She picks up her discarded knife and tucks it back into its sheath at her waist. Slowly untwining the chain from around her fingers, Lily pulls it over her head so the medallion rests around her own neck. She gives the rose a quick kiss before tucking it beneath her blouse for safekeeping where it nestles against her heart. She’s going to find Leander and bring him back, no matter what it takes.

  The trip through the woods is slower this time, her steps measured and sure as she makes her way back to the clearing. She’s looking for their tracks in their dirt, for any sign to show her the way they travelled. While a witch may not leave tracks on the ground, a large lion like the form Leander had taken definitely would.

  Lily’s father used to take her hunting; he taught her how to track animals through the dense foliage and come out with a meal. She wishes her father were by her side now, helping her track Leander and the witch through the forest. She also wishes for her weapons; a bow and quiver full of arrows or a bigger knife would be helpful. The thought of going back to the village crosses her mind. She could retrieve weapons and even a hunting partner or two in the form of Leander’s friends. She can’t afford to lose the time, though. The witch already has a big enough advantage on her. If she wants to see Leander alive again, she needs to leave now.

  Once at the clearing, Lily searches for any sign of the lion’s tracks. She’s crestfallen to find only her tracks are visible in the early morning light. A frustrated cry tears its way from her throat as she collapses against a tree.

  “Where have they gone?” she asks aloud, fingers digging into the bark of the tree. To her surprise, the branches of the tree shiver and shake though there is no breeze to be felt. The trees all around her start to quiver as well, echoing all around her. When she listens close, she can almost hear them whispering to her.

  Leaning her head closer to the tree, she asks again. “Where have they gone?”

  “We did not see,” the trees whisper back.

  Lily closes

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