The field sparkled as the sunlight hit the morning dew. The sky was cloudless, and the birds shook off their slumber. Almost all the residents in the cottage on the edge of town still slept. All but little Mayflower.

She threw open the kitchen shutters and made her way outside. The grass tickled her feet, and the wind kissed her forehead, as if to say good morning. When she let the chickens out of the coop, each one patiently waited and accepted its daily hug.

Down the hill, out toward the forest, she found her daily collection of flowers. Lilacs, roses, peonies, and plenty of others she couldn’t identify. When her mother woke, she would sort out the valuable ones to make her potions and put the rest in the vase.

It didn’t take long for Mayflower’s arms to become full. The flower-filled field stretched on endlessly. She smiled, satisfied with her bouquet, when a familiar face appeared from the trees.

The fluffy brown cat let out a chirp as it approached.

“Ruby!” she called out, flowers dropped and forgotten, and arms opened for the little beast.

Ruby got his name from the shiny gem he had brought her the first time they met. Her mother, excited to trade it in the village, used the profits to buy Mayflower a better-fitted dress. Her brother Celo hadn’t been as happy with her find.

The cat rubbed its face against hers, and she failed to hold in a giggle.

“That tickles!” She said and smooched his head. His blue eyes, the same striking color as hers, blinked at her before he jumped, and looked back for her to follow.

She did, as always, because Ruby led her to treasures. This time, a silver necklace with three deep green gems hanging off the front.

“It’s so pretty! I love it!” She said with a little twirl as she turned to Ruby, and found only the empty spot from where he’d vanished.

It was alright. May knew the cat would return, eventually.

“Thanks, Ruby!” she called out towards the trees before her sprint to the cottage.

Celo leaned against the side of the house when she returned.

“No flowers today?”

“No,” she said, and shoved the necklace in her pocket. “I forgot.”

He stared at her for a long, unsettled second. He had a habit of doing that, so she remained stone-faced under his gaze.

“Right.” He sighed. “I’m headed out to get Mother more ingredients. Stay out of trouble. Don’t go near the woods.”

Mayflower nodded at him before she skipped inside. Her mother waited at the table sipping her coffee. In front of her was the stool.

“Come here.”

Mayflower gave her a sad look.

“I don’t have all day. Sit down, May.”

May did, but she kicked her feet in protest as the brush ripped through her curly brown hair. She flinched when it caught her ear.

“Sorry.”

May fidgeted in her seat. Her ears were big and pointed at the ends in a way she hadn’t seen on anyone else. Anyone else besides her brother.

“Mama?”

“Yes, Sweetheart?”

“Why are my ears so pointy?”

The brush stopped, then pulled back. “They just are.”

“Did I get them from my father?” May asked.

“You don’t have a father, May. You were a little miracle.” She said, her voice shaky.

Mayflower said nothing more. A girl in the village had said everyone had a father. But she had seen the other village adults lie before; they seemed to truly believe he wasn’t real.

Though her hair still had tangles, her mother placed the brush back on the table. “I’m done. Why don’t you go play?”

May didn’t wait another moment to head out, ready to bound down the hill.

“Stay away from the woods!” a voice echoed after her.

The necklace jangled in her pocket, where it asked to be freed. When the house disappeared into the fields, she pulled it out. It was very nice. Maybe this once, she could store it in her stash.

On the edge of the meadow, beneath an oak, a layer of dirt covered a small chest. In it was a doll, a journal with words she had never seen, and an empty silk pouch. She glanced down at the silver necklace. She’d eventually give it to her mother.

The crack of a stick made her jump, but she quickly identified the culprit as a rabbit, one that looked as startled as her.

“Oh! Hello!” She called.

It tilted its head as if to see her better. May mimicked the motion. The creature paused, then resumed grazing, deeming her harmless.

“Do you live in the woods? What do you eat in there?”

The rabbit stepped closer to sniff her, and she offered her hand. It leaned upwards, to investigate, then bit down on the necklace.

“That’s not yours!” May cried.

It pulled with surprising strength, the jewelry wrenched from her hands with ease. She dove after it, but the rabbit ran.

“Give that back!” Mayflower yelled and chased after it.

The bunny was nimble. It dived between trees and jumped over fallen logs and rocks with ease. May was quick, too, but not fast enough to catch it. Eventually, it stopped. Its ears perked up, its head lifted, and the silver dropped from its mouth. May looked around to try to identify what had scared the critter.

Every hair on her arm stood on end. Her heart screamed at her that something was wrong. The rabbit had disappeared the second her eyes left it. Mayflower held the necklace to her chest and glanced around the trees.

The fields were gone, and the path she had taken had been lost.

Mayflower was deep in the woods.

“Hello?” she called desperately. There was a small hope in her that she was still near the village.

“Hello!” a voice sang back cheerfully.

May stepped closer to it, footsteps falling lightly. Water ran nearby, and it grew closer.

Mayflower walked out into the little clearing. There was a grotto with a pool of the bluest, freshest-looking water she had ever seen, with a steady trickle of a waterfall flowing into it. A girl, slightly older than May, stood up to her ankles in the water.

She faced her.

“Greetings! What is your name, lost one?”

May froze. Her mother would hate her for being impolite, but she could sense something was wrong. This girl had teeth that were too sharp and eyes that were too strikingly blue. Her ears were pointed.

“Do you know where the village is?” May asked instead of answering.

“It’s rude to ignore my question. I ask again: what is your name?” the maiden asked.

“What’s yours?” May asked back.

The mysterious child smiled as if amused. “You should join me. The water is lovely.”

“No, thank you.”

The girl cupped her hands and took a drink; the water flowed messily down her face and into her red hair.

“It’s delicious. One sip, and you’ll never be the same.”

“I can’t.” May repeated.

“What do you wish then?” she asked.

“I wish to know the way home.”

“Is that all? You don’t want riches or wonders?”

“No,” May tells her.

“Oh, you already have riches!” the girl exclaimed, as she reached for the necklace. “Where did you steal that from?”

“That’s mine.” May stepped backward. “It was a gift.”

“It’s from the woods.”

“Is it?”

The girl stared at her in the way Celo often did. As if she could see every one of May’s thoughts and feelings and was trying to decide how to react.

“I will send you home. If you give me the necklace.”

She held out her hand, and May clutched the silver tighter on instinct. Everything she knew about the forest told her that this was the wrong choice.

“No, sorry, I have to go,” May said, turning to run.

As soon as her foot left the groove, it grew dark. Dark, not from the trees, but the instant fall of night. How long had she been here? It was hard to see in the dim moonlight, but May ran anyway. She didn’t want to know what the girl would do if May was caught.

A sharp cry caused her to flail sideways into a tree. Ruby stood before her, with big eyes and a tail that swished anxiously.

“Can you get me out of here?” She asked.

He nodded and turned around. May followed behind, terrified at every little sound. The wind carried whispers, cracks, and howls. Her guide led her faithfully, and every so often, he checked to make sure she was still there.

Something growled.

Don’t look back. May heard the deep, older voice speak directly into her head. For a brief moment, she mistook it for Celo.

She looked down at Ruby. He quickened his steps.

Mayflower froze when she felt the breath on her neck. A drop of warm liquid dripped onto her skin, and she turned around on pure instinct.

There was nothing there she could see, but somehow, she could sense it. It had eyes in the dark; it surrounded her on all sides.

Time to run. The voice told her. She scooped Ruby into her arms and followed the direction.

Left. It said. Ruby hissed at the thing behind them.

Right. The disembodied voice demanded.

Something began to close in. May could once more feel breath. Droplets hit her head.

Now circle around the giant oak.

“What?” she cried.

Do it! The voice cried in sync with Ruby’s yowl.

Mayflower circled the tree and found herself back where she had started. She squeezed Ruby a little tighter.

“May!” Celo called over the fields.

She ran to the light of her brother’s lantern. She didn’t know if the monster that hunted her would stay in the forest, and she didn’t want to find out.

Celo turned toward her, blue eyes wide with worry. May teared up at the sight of him.

“I’m sorry!” She cried and threw herself at her brother. He dropped the lantern to catch her, the cat still in her arms.

“What happened?”

“I went into the woods! Now there’s a monster after me!” May sobbed, her tears flowed freely.

“It’s ok. It won’t come out further than the tree line.” Celo looked around. “We should get home.”

Mayflower held the cat tighter. “Can Ruby come?”

“I suppose so.” Celo paused and looked down at her. “You call him Ruby?”

“Yes! Cause he brought me a ruby once!”

Celo smiled. “Of course.”

Their mother was already asleep when they got back to the cottage, so Celo sent her off to bed. That night, she slept with Ruby curled at her side, and the window was closed and latched.

In her dreams, she found herself back in the woods.

Editor: Lucy Cafiero