The Girl in the Forest

Jan knew it was his fault, he had seen the storm clouds coming across the Tatras mountains. But Maria’s parents were old. Since her death they saw their grandson so rarely that Jan delayed their return too long. Now he was still a mile from home, the storm had broken, and he and Piotr were forced to take shelter under a rock overhang at the side of the valley. The lightening was brilliant, and by each flash he could see the whole mountainside opposite almost as clear as day. It was by the light of one especially bright flash that he saw it, a wolf, standing on a rock on the far side of the valley directly opposite him. It was looking straight at him as if it could see him hidden beneath the overhang. By the next flash it had gone, but the sight left him unnerved. Wolves tended to avoid villages, but he had heard too many stories of what they could do to anything they regarded as easy prey. As soon as the rain eased Jan and his son slipped out from under the rocks and continued on their way home.
The path was muddy, but there was still light, the sunset lingered and he knew the full moon would rise soon. Still he went with his hand on the handle of his knife, just in case.
He was about half way home when it happened. His feet slipped on a greasy patch of mud, and he fell sideways hitting his head on a tree. Everything went dark.
He recovered his senses to the sound of Piotr crying with fear. He tried to struggle to his feet, but his ankle went from under him. He twisted round on his knees. He could see Piotr, but the boy’s leg was trapped under a fallen tree. Jan tried to crawl through the mud and lift the tree so his son could get free, but his ankle screamed with pain and he could get no leverage to lift. He struggled for a few minutes, then fell back exhausted.
Then he heard movement of something pushing through the bushes. He twisted his head the other way to see it. The sunset had gone now, but moonrise was casting its first glow and against the sky, just for a brief moment, he saw the silhouette crossing the skyline. A longnosed, doglike shape, with a long tail, a wolf. Fear went cold down his spine and he reached for his knife. It was gone, torn away in his fall.
Then the rising moon’s first light broke through, the hillside was bathed in silver light, and he saw her. A young woman on the opposite side of the path, looking at him with fear in her face, but with pity in her eyes, brown hair, slim figure, and, impossibly, stark naked in a September thunderstorm.
He turned his eyes away, to spare her modesty, but heard her approach.
“You are hurt, can I help you?”
Her voice sounded odd, as if she was unused to talking, yet her speech was clear, with a typical Slavic accent, just like his own.
“My son’s trapped, but my foot...” He got no further as she took hold of one end of the tree and lifted.
Piotr scrambled clear, and the girl dropped the tree, then took hold of Jan’s ankle.
“It hurts?”
It did, it hurt like the devil, but it didn’t seem broken.
“Just badly wrenched, I think. I just need a day’s rest, and it should be fine.”
He tried again to stand, but the ankle went from under him. Then a slim bare arm was round his shoulder supporting him, taking the weight.
“Easy,” she said, “Easy, I will help you, you cannot go by yourself.”
The pain and the fear drove out thoughts of her nakedness, and he let her drape his arm across her shoulder as she took the weight.
Despite her slim build she was strong. Even so it took them nearly an hour, Jan wincing with pain at every step while Piotr was almost asleep on his feet by the time they reached his cottage on the outskirts of the village. Jan fumbled to open the door. She helped him inside, and looked around in wonder as he lit the lamp, as if she had never seen a cottage before.
“My son,” he said, but she anticipated him again.
“I will see to him.” She picked up the eight year old child, as easily as if she were picking up a doll, and carried him through to his bedroom. Only when she had gone did he realize she had not asked which was Piotr’s room.
He slipped his boots off and examined his ankle. He was right, it was just a sprain and he tried uselessly to massage it with his cold-numbed hands.
After a few minutes she returned, still innocently naked, then her face became troubled as she saw him turn his face away from her.
“You are - embarrassed?” she seemed to hesitate at the word.
“Yes, it’s not right,” he broke off, then with sudden memory he reached down under the bench where he lay and pulled out a leather box.
“Please take these, put them on. They were my wife’s before she died, I think she would have been glad for you to have them.”
She looked at them solemnly. He turned away again, and after a moment heard the whisper of cloth as she dressed herself.
“Is that better?” He turned. She was dressed now like any other village woman, but the clothes seemed to hang untidily on her, as if she had never worn anything before.
“I understand you prefer me to wear these, but I still do not understand why.” Her voice was soft and almost wistful.
His control broke, “Because I’m a man, and I’m not a good man, and it’s been six months since my wife died, and you’re a very beautiful woman and seeing you like, like that, makes me want to do things that my reason and my religion tell me are wrong.”
“And you want to behave to me as a man should, and not like an animal.” She lifted from his mind words he had not said. “And you have behaved to me as a man should, so why such grief?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, but she took up his ankle in her hands, first caressing it, then massaging it, first raising the pain to levels that made him cry out, then driving it away.
With the ending of the pain weariness suddenly hit him, and he felt his eyes closing. He tried to stay awake, but failed, and his last vision was of the girl stroking his ankle.
He awoke again to the feel of her fingers on his lips.
“I must go, and you must bar the door after me, there are wolves around and they are deadly by night.”
“But what about you, you can’t go out in that.”
She touched his lips again. “I am safe, I know them, but you and the child will not be. And I will come again, to make sure you are safe.”
She rose and stepped to the door, opening it, then stooped to pick up the bar of wood that lay against the wall.
“You must bar the door, remember that, you must.”
She slipped out. He hobbled after her to the doorway, propping himself up against the wall. For a few yards he could see her in the waning moonlight, and he called after her.
“But your name, you never told me your name.”
She turned, the light dress flowing out around her.
“I have no name, I’m just myself.” Then she was gone. He tried to peer through the trees, but the moonlight failed, and suddenly there came through the blackness the howling cry of a wolf. He slammed the door closed, dropping the bar across to seal it shut.
In the morning he woke up to find the pain and the swelling reduced. He limped into Piotr’s bedroom. His son was still sleeping, his fingers clutched around a wooden toy the girl must have put in his hands.
He went to the door, unbarred it, and stepped outside. The sun was long risen, and other people in the village were already up and busy. He was about to call to them when he saw the tracks. A double row of wolf footprints going round the cottage. He followed them, leaning on the wall as he went. The beast had stopped at every window. When he returned to the cottage door he saw a smear of dirt as if something had tried to reach up to the door latch. He reached out with his finger and touched the metal of the latch. More dirt came off on his hand. He looked at it, his mind filled with questions.
After breakfast he sent Piotr out to call the priest. Their village had no headman, and Father Jacobus was happy to serve his flock both as secular and spiritual leader. Truth to tell, he was probably the best qualified anyway. In his youth he’d visited far-off places like Praha and Wien. One of the followers of Hus, he’d never been happy with the title of “Father”, but in the end he’d given up trying to stop the villagers using the word.
He came just after noon, and listened to Jan’s story, and looked at the tracks, his old lined face serious and solemn.
“I’ll warn the village, and I’ll get someone to warn the other villages as well. It’s unusual to get wolves coming near a village, unless they are really desperate for food, but if these are posing a threat, then we may have to do something about it.
“But I’m worried about this girl, you said she says the wolves know her?”
“Yes, I don’t understand that, Father. It was almost as if she lived with them. I don’t even think she’s ever even worn clothes.”
“Yet she spoke Bohemian well enough. Did she have an accent?”
“No, no more than mine. She talked just like anyone else, but the words, it was as if she’d never used them before.” Jan twisted his hands in anguish. “Father, there’s more.
“Yes?”
“You said once that you once dealt with a case of a werewolf, a young man you said.”
“You think that she may be a werewolf?”
“I don’t know, but just before I met her, I saw this wolf. then the moon rose and she was there. And now at night a wolf comes round my door and tries to get in. No normal wolf would do that.”
“Remember most stories you hear are just legends and superstition, but yes, I met a real werewolf. He was a decent honest man by day, but when the moon shone he became a wolf, and a killer.” Jacobus’s voice was full of bitter memory. “Yes I knew him, and he was a friend.”
“And you killed him?”
“No, he, well, he resolved it himself. But I’ve met one real case, and dozens of cases which were nothing more than superstition. Be slow to jump to conclusions. And you said she was a friend, she helped you.”
“Oh yes Father,” Jan sought for words to express his meaning, “She’s gentle, and so innocently kind.”
The priest sighed, “Then does that sound like a werewolf? Whatever she is, she helped you, so you must give thanks to God for her, and pray for her safety.” He rose, “And I’ll tell the villagers to bar their doors at night.”
Jan closed the door after the priest. He felt unsettled, as if he had betrayed the girl by speaking about her. He spent the rest of the day on minor jobs that didn’t involve too much walking, while Piotr helped.
By evening they were indoors, and as the light faded he barred the door. A few minutes after the last light failed, Jan heard it, a snuffling sound around the door. He took a chair and stood on it to try and look out over the top of the shutters to see what animal was there, but he could see nothing, it was too dark.
After a while the snuffling ceased, and as the moon rose he could see the ground outside the cottage was clear. Then he saw her again, wearing the clothes he had given her, and walking across the clearing towards him.
As she neared the cottage he opened the shutter. She saw him at the window, and her face lit up. He jumped down from the chair and opened the door. She entered, smiling with happiness.
He closed the door, forgetting to bar it, but she didn’t seem to care as she dropped to her knees beside Piotr to greet him.
She stayed till well past midnight, putting Piotr to bed, and kissing him goodnight, then coming back into the main room saying she wanted to check Jan’s foot.
For Jan it was like the time before his wife had died, a woman now caring for him, now letting him serve her with food and drink, now just sitting talking companionably with him, as a friend.
She asked him about every detail of life in the village, about his son, and his wife. When he said again that Maria was dead she through her head back and keened sadly with grief.
Then she turned to asking about himself.
“Why did you say you were not a good man? Everything you have done to me or to the boy is good?”
The question caught him unprepared. He stammered.
“I, I’m a normal man, I’ve got a temper when I’m angry. Sometimes I want to be greedy, and, and do things I know are wrong.”
“And you miss your wife, very much.”
“Yes.” He did, every night when he lay alone and lonely in his bed.
“But you try not do what you know is wrong. You have something in you that gives you strength to try. You, you confess it in tears when you fail.” She hesitated slightly on the word “confess”, as if uncertain of it.
“Tell me about Father Jacobus”.
So he told her and she demanded more and more details about him. But the time grew later and his conscience pricked him.
“You should go,” he said, “It’s not proper for you to be here so late.”
She looked up at him in silence for a moment, as if she was reading from his mind all the things he was reluctant to put into words. Then suddenly she rose.
“Don’t worry, I know you are to be trusted. I’ll go, and I will be safe, and I will return.”
She moved to the door, and stepped back and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“Don’t forget,” she said, “bar the door.”

The next night he barred the door, and again he heard the snuffling of the beast outside. He watched the latch, and saw it move, as if something was trying to hold it in paws not designed for that job. Again as moonrise drew near the beast retreated. But this time there was no girl, although he waited till past midnight for her.
He did see Father Jacobus again though. He came, late in the afternoon, knocking on Jan’s door, and asking him to come to his house before dusk. But he wouldn’t say why, only that he was bound to respect a confidence.
Intrigued, and slightly frustrated, Jan went to his neighbour and arranged for Piotr to stay the night. Then before he left he wrote a brief note to the girl on a scrap of paper, and pinned it to his door, high up where a wolf could not reach it.
The eastern sky was beginning to darken as he knocked on the door of the Priest’s house. Jacobus let him in, then barred the door after him.
“I’m sorry to make you wait like this, but I’m expecting my other visitor to be delayed a few hours.”
“The girl?” it was an obvious deduction.
“Yes, she came to see me last night. She wants baptism, and she wants you as Godfather to her.”
“Godfather, me?” Jan asked, “I don’t understand.”
“She wants to be adopted as a daughter of God, and she wants a man she trusts to stand as her Godfather.”
“But, can you baptise her Father, does she understand what it means?”
“Does anyone completely understand the mystery of baptism? I certainly don’t. But I know this. She understands what it means exactly as much as I do, exactly. It’s as if she can take the thoughts out of your head as you talk to her. In fact I’m sure that’s exactly what she does.
“The night before last you spoke to her about the village, then about me, and this church. When she first came to me, she knew as much as you know, exactly as much. Within five minutes of talking to me she understood as much as I do about the faith.”
“Is she,” Jan struggled for words, “What is she?”
“That’s for her to tell us. But one thing I’m sure of, she’s sincere, and whatever she is, she wants to make her peace with God.”
They waited. Jacobus light a lamp as outside the night grew darker. A wolf howled again, then fell silent. Sometime before midnight the moon rose, and a few minutes later there was a knock on the door and Jacobus rose to answer it.
She entered, still wearing the clothes Jan had given her. There was a difference though, Jan realized as he looked at her. Before she had worn them as if they were hanging on her, now she wore them with elegance, like a queen.
By heaven, she was beautiful. Then he remembered she could read his mind, and he flushed with embarrassment. But she turned and smiled at him, and he dropped his head.
“You want to be baptised?” Father Jacobus’s voice was soft.
“Yes, if I may be.”
“God’s grace is for everyone, man, woman, child. We’re all the same before Him.”
“And if someone is not man, woman or child?” her voice was soft.
Jan swallowed, and he saw Jacobus sigh slightly, as he had expected this.
“I’m not God, I can only guess what He thinks, and now you’ve asked me the question, I think you know the answer as well as I do now.”
She flushed slightly, “Yes I can see what you are thinking.”
She paused and turned to Jan and laid her hand on his arm, “And please don’t be ashamed like that. There is nothing to be ashamed of.”
She turned back to Jacobus. “No, I don’t know what I am. I know Jan thought I might be a werewolf. I, I don’t think I’m human either.
“My first clear memories are of waking on a moonlit hillside surrounded by wolves, and I knew the wolves, that they were my pack. I had vague memories, images and longings of myself as a wolf.
“For a long time that was all. Then slowly I became aware that I seemed to be splitting into two separate personalities. As a wolf, I was vicious, fighting to be pack leader, defying and beating down the males until they submitted. At night, when the moon shone,and I became a woman I began to feel disgusted by the wolf, and I wanted to be free.
“But I didn’t know how to escape. Then one night as a wolf I found Jan and his son trapped in the forest, The wolf saw them only as prey, and then the moon rose, and I saw them as a man and his son, in need of help.
“And I talked to Jan, and it was as if I could read everything he thought, and everything he knew.
“Father, Jan said to me he was not a good man, and I read his thoughts, and he’s right, he has thoughts that a good man would not have, but he’s not a bad man either, because he’s turned his back on all that part of himself, and he’s made his peace with God.
“Father, I’m a wolf, and I loath that part of myself, and I want to put an end to it. If there’s a God I want to make my peace with him, to be His daughter. I want to be a real person like Jan is. A true woman, like he’s a true man, I don’t want to be the wolf.”
Jan felt himself blushing, but Jacobus intervened first.
“Baptism’s only a symbol, not a magic ceremony, you know that.”
“But a symbol always has something it stands for, or it wouldn’t be a symbol.”
“God forbid I deny anyone that, but it may not take away the wolf. The man who was my best friend, he found he turned by moonlight into a wolf, and he was baptised and confirmed. I cannot promise what I can’t deliver.”
Jan found his voice again, “You said your friend resolved the problem. What did you mean.”
Jacobus’s face tightened at the memory, and a moment later the girl’s mouth opened wide in shock.
“Most of the superstitions about werewolves mention wolfbane. Some say it causes it, others that it cures it. The one sure truth is that it’s a deadly poison.”
The girl’s voice took over as Jacobus’s voice faltered, “So he locked himself away in his attic. He threw the key out of the window, and took a large dose of wolfbane. And,” she paused a moment, “And it killed the man, and left only the wolf.”
Jacobus took up the story again, “It was just a wolf, no more intelligence or malice than any normal animal. We spent a week trying to decide what to do, then one morning we came down to find it had killed itself smashing itself against the stone walls of the room we had locked it in.”
“So you buried the wolf,” the girl took over once more, “and in consecrated ground by night against all the laws of the king or the church.” Her voice shook now, “Because he was your friend.”
“And one of the bravest men I’ve ever met.” Jacobus looked the girl full in the face. “So now you know it all.”
“And so do you.” The girl looked back with equal honesty. “So will you baptise me?”
Jacobus lifted up his lamp. “Follow me,” he said.
He led them into a side chapel of the church and set the lamp on a ledge high up. Then he picked up his prayer book and began the service of private baptism for adults.
Jan watched the girl. She stood watching the priest and her face almost looked as if it were shining from inside.
The priest dipped his hand in the water, and smiled at the girl.
“And what name will you take.”
She looked back at him in silence for a moment, and Jan wondered if she were looking in his mind for names. Then she smiled.
“Verka. If I may.”
“Verka,” Jacobus smiled, “meaning Faith. That’s an excellent choice.” And he lifted his hand with the water trickling from it and baptised her in the Name of the Three who is One.
Verka bent her head as the water ran down, then lifted it again, her eyes shining.
“Thank you Father.” And she flung her arms round him to kiss him.
Jacobus blinked, and she released him, and turned to Jan.
“Don’t worry, I won’t kiss you. Not when your mind says you’d be so embarrassed.”

They sat afterward in Jacobus’s house, the priest offered them food, and she ate the bread and cheese as if it were a queen’s meal, and all the time she talked, asking question after question. Sometimes she waited for the answer, other times she seemed to lift it impatiently from their minds and answer herself.
At last she paused.
“It’s nearly moonset, I can feel it.” She smiled at Jan. “No, don’t worry, I know I’m still going to change, but I must make sure you are safe when I do.
“Father Jacobus, you have a cage in the back of your house. May I borrow it for a few hours.”
“A cage.” Jan rose from his chair in horror.
“Yes, a cage. Not for me, for the wolf.”
“Of course.” Jacobus rose and led the way. Through the house to a door into an outhouse. The outhouse was dark, and the girl stumbled as she walked through it, but recovered herself before Jan could reach her.
Outside was the cage. Harsh strong iron bars, with a huge lock. Jacobus opened the door and Verka stepped in, pulling it shut after herself.
Jacobus snapped the lock, and stepped back.
“And one more request,” she looked at the two men with clear open eyes, “If you will do it for me?”
“Of course.”
Jan’s reply was immediate, but Jacobus was more measured saying, “If I can.”
“Some time today, for the protection of the village, and of this honest man and his son, will you deal with the wolf. I think you may find you need the silver bullets Father Jacobus has on the top lefthand shelf in his study.”
“No,” Jan stepped forward, in angry rejection.
“Jan. I read your mind. I know you love me. But the wolf hates you. Sooner or later she will kill you. And your son. Jan, look at me.”
She turned to let him see her profile. The moon was setting, and already her body seemed to be changing and twisting strangely. Jan dropped his head in resignation.
“Please, now I need to take these clothes off, or they will be damaged.”
“Of course, and may God’s peace be with you.” It was Jacobus who replied.
The two men walked back inside, and Jacobus dropped the bar across the door.
By unspoken consent they sat together in the priest’s front room till dawn. Then as the light strengthened Jacobus fetched his gun, and the bullets from his study, and together they walked back through the house.
As they entered the outhouse the priest suddenly stopped, his hand reaching out toward an empty space on a shelf.
“She’s taken it.” He turned to Jan. “I forgot she can read my mind, she knew where the wolfbane was kept. It’s enough to kill a dozen men.”
He leapt to the door, hurling the bar aside, and thrust it open.
Verka sat at peace inside the cage, the empty bottle at her side. She was fully dressed, and turned to smile at them.
“I didn’t know, but I had faith,” she said. “For your friend, who had been a man, it killed the human and left only the wolf. And for one who had been a wolf, it destroyed the wolf and left only the human.”
Jacobus tore at the locks to open the door, and she fell out into Jan’s arms.
“But I’m only a woman now, I can’t see your mind.”
But that didn’t matter any more to Jan, or to her, as they held each other.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 19.03.2010

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