Britin Frazey

Raising her fists in front of her face, she gave her opponent a wicked grin. He was crouched, making no move to advance; she beckoned him forward with a wag of her index finger and a verbal taunt.

“I’m not going to fight a girl,” the man scoffed, prodding his pile of dry leaves with a stick.

Under the cover of the massive jade trees’ ginormously thick leaves, the hot rays of the star orbiting their planet were blocked. Despite it being midday in summer, the forest floor was dark; its breeze cool against the girl’s skin. Upon seeing the man strike flint over his kindling, she tossed her cloak aside to better reveal her form, descending on her prey, but only after it created a singular spark.

Through the haze, she’d inched closer on graceful, quiet feet, until she was standing just paces from him– poised to attack, once he made a move. Then she’d shown herself. “And I’m not going to let you get away without one. But I’ll let you set the duel’s terms. Whether magic and weapons are fair game, or if we’re just using our hands,” she grunted.

The man rolled his eyes. “Look. I’m lost, okay? I thought I’d make a small fire so I could cook myself some dinner, and keep the monsters away. This place is…” he trailed off, looking around. A shudder went through his body.

“Haven’t you ever heard any stories? You don’t start fires in unfamiliar lands. That’s how you get the monsters to notice you. What you should do is ask forest spirits for help. Now, set the rules for our fight, or call for aid.”

“What? No! Even if something did come for me, I wouldn’t much care, at this point, as long as I can die in warmth and light,” he said, and struck his flint again.

No spark came that time. Instead, a dark vine whipped from the girl’s wrist, knocking it from his hand. It happened so fast that he saw nothing.

Realizing his hand was empty, he screamed, scrambling to his feet at last.

“Do as I asked, or you’ll die either way,” she snarled.

The man gasped, but remained silent. He backed away a step, his back hitting the trunk of a tree, which was thicker than he was. Upon contact, dark vines instantly shot out from the tree, wrapping around his ankles, waist, and chest.

He let loose a blood-curdling scream. “Gods! Gods! Help me, mighty gods!” he yelled.

“This planet is their land, but the gods no longer listen to these parts. If it is help you seek, ask a spirit to guide you; they might still be kind enough to oblige.”

“I don’t believe in spirits. Gods!” he sobbed, over and over.

The girl sighed and whistled low. “That’s a shame. Well, Freckles does need his supper. I tried, with you, but even I can’t make a believer,” she said. From the deepest shadows of the dark forest, a big cat– horse-sized, at least– came to her side, licking its lips and snarling at the man tied to the tree.

“Are you– NO! Help me, you have to help me!” he begged.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “I gave you several chances. Do you know who I am, now?”

“Yes! Save me, forest spirit– be my guide,” he cried. “Protect me from your foul beast!”

The guardian of that deep, dark forest smiled sadly and shook her head. “Technically, it’s my job, but I find no joy in killing,” she shrugged and turned on her heel, looking at her pet. She released the dark vines of her power that bound the man. “Freckles, dinnertime,” she said, watching her giant cat bound beyond her and out of sight. 

She ignored the sounds behind her: begging, screaming, then Freckles chowing down. It was his favorite food: trespassing men. 

As she returned to her hut, she smiled to herself, knowing that she’d saved her sweet forest yet another day; hoping against hope that the next visitor would ask for guidance from the forest’s spirit.