The Spiral Path by Matt Griffin

Author:Matt Griffin [Griffin, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781847179425
Publisher: O’Brien Press
Published: 2017-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

On the other side of the forest, the woman kept Ida close as she made her way through the trees as if she were someone trying not to get caught. It seemed like she was well practised in this art.

She moved like a fox or a deer, using the trees for cover even though winter had made the cover thin. Her clothes helped her to blend in, and were obviously chosen with this in mind. She had the air of someone who had been hiding like this for a long time.

Ida admired the woman’s ability to slip through the forest unseen. It was something she felt naturally good at too, and she didn’t have a hard time keeping up. After a while, the woman didn’t have to hold Ida’s arm anymore or coach her. If there was a rustle or a twig-snap or a spooked bird, Ida simply disappeared. They moved like this for an hour, a bond of mutual respect builing as the quiet minutes passed. Ida had seen something in those spooked eyes that she could trust.

The two did not speak.

Ida felt strange. Something was happening in her – a kind of awakening, like lights in a vast, dark warehouse were ponderously flickering into life one-by-one.

I am Ida. I am Ida.

The mantra turned over in her mind endlessly as they moved, and the further they went, the more the woods seemed to call it back to her.

I am Ida. I know this place.

She didn’t even realise she was thinking in English.

Suddenly the woman placed a hand on Ida’s chest, stopping her in her tracks. Then she flicked back a layer of grey cloak and slung a leather strap from her shoulder. It carried a crossbow – a kind of home-made affair. She took a bolt from a bag at her hip, drew back the string and put the bolt in place. Putting a finger to her lips, she moved like a slow breeze around a wide, ancient fir.

Thhhhhunk!

The bolt sliced the air and entered something with a thud. A moment later the woman in grey returned with a rabbit, the bolt protruding solemnly from its neck.

‘We’re nearly there. We’ll need some dinner.’

Ida was confused for a second. ‘I … I can understand you!’

Wait, am I saying this?

‘Well, it talks!’ The woman looked pleased, but she could see that Ida was troubled by this change.

‘We’ll be at the cottage in a few minutes. Let’s save the talk for then. God knows the old man likes to talk!

‘I’m Mary, by the way. Mary Sheridan.’

After another few minutes of creeping, the trees became spaced out and the air filled with whiter light. A few flakes of snow danced their way onto the ground. Ahead, there was a clearing of thick grass, bent under the weight of pearly frost. There were squat stones arranged in circles around the glade, spiral scores dark against their frozen sides. In the middle of the clearing a simple cottage leaned drunkenly, its netted windows and crooked door giving it the appearance of a sleeping giant with light-brown straw for hair.

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