Page 9 of Untethering Dark

How would these feckless oafs feel if she trespassed on their land, knifed their trees, took pictures in their homes, and shat in their yards?

They’d yell and scream and chase her off.

Day in and day out, it was like this. Different crowds but the same offenses over and over. She didn’t blame Altes Geweih in the slightest for eating them. A creature that old would have zero patience. And really, treating the forest with respect and leaving its inhabitants alone wasn’t too much to ask.

“I know.” Johanna shook her head. “It’s infuriating. Don’t be mean to trees.”

Astrid set the tray on the table, and plopped a sugar cube into each cup, keeping the extent of her displeasure to herself. The ranger already knew that the humans’ grievances were many; they would be much worse without her conservation work.

As much as Astrid liked to complain about humans, their treatment of der Schwarzwald had greatly improved ever since a dedicated, environmentally conscious group of them declared the forest a national park in 2014. Johanna wasn’t the only human who cared. Others fought to rein in the timber industry and counteract the brutal devastation acid rain had wrought. The trees, the soil, the rivers, and lakes—all felt its effects. Damages not even Mutter Perchta’s healing magic could fix.

It was before Astrid’s time, but Johanna explained to her once that almost half of the trees in der Schwarzwald bore signs of damage by 1984 and showed her grainy photos of their blackened, skeletal trunks. Until the humans had stepped up, and spoken out, the forest was dying, and on a rapid path toward destruction.

If it weren’t for Johanna’s and her family’s fight for change, Perchta might’ve hexed and murdered every single human who tried stepping inside the forest.

At the end of the day, carved trees weren’t great. But instead of griping, Astrid said, “Could’ve been worse.”

“True. And no new missing persons reports this morning, so that’s good news.”

About that...

She gave Johanna an apologetic look, hating to be the bearer of bad news. “I heard other rule breakers getting their comeuppance last night.”

Sighing, Johanna whisked the knitted cap off her head. Strands of dark brown hair streaked with gray stood on end, made unruly by static, and she grumbled as she doffed her gloves to try patting the runaway hairs back in place. “Idioten. I wish they’d just listen. Or read a sign! These tourists going off and getting themselves killed is completely avoidable.”

Taking a seat herself, Astrid replied, “At least Altes Geweih leaves no trace.”

No body parts. No bloodstains. Nothing.

“It’s less for you to stress over,” she continued. She poured piping hot tea into both their cups, followed by a splash of cream, forming a Wulkje. It was an Ostfriesland tea ritual she adopted in her youthful years of travel.

Ostfriesentee was not stirred, that was verboten, so Johanna raised her teacup as is. “Cheers to that. Dealing with missing persons investigations are headache enough.” She sipped. “Mmm. Is this a fresh batch? It’s very good.”

“Yes, and I’ve got Hagebuttentee, too. Harvested this season. Want some to take home?”

“Please. Oh, and that reminds me.” Setting down her teacup, Johanna began rooting through her backpack, pushing aside a hydration bladder, a first aid kit, and maps. “Got you a new calendar, what with the New Year being just around the corner. Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Astrid grinned, accepting the gift. She flipped through, humming approvingly at the stunning, artful shots of der Schwarzwald taken throughout the year. As rude and pesky as humans could be, she had to admit that some had an eye for beauty and a skill for capturing it. “I love it.”

“You’re so easy to please.”

Astrid snorted.

“Minus your ‘all tourists are stupid and annoying and deserve to be eaten’ thing.”

“You know me so well.” She tapped one long, sharp fingernail against her teacup’s gilded rim. “Respect and manners go a long way here, as you know.”

“That I do.”

“How’s Suri?” Johanna’s spouse. While Astrid didn’t often have an excuse to leave the forest these days, she never turned down one of Suri’s bimonthly dinner parties. Food. Drink. Music. The games and company—all reminded her that a forested life of isolation wasn’t what she wanted ALL the time. It just felt wrong to enter the human domain without an effusive invitation or a long-standing tradition like Perchta’s yearly Yuletide visit.

That wasn’t her world. Not anymore. And not for a long time.

“They’re great! Sent their love, of course, and were wondering when you’d be visiting next.”

“Soon, soon,” Astrid promised, hiding a smile. “Just tweaking the amigurumi owl pattern I promised them. Want to get it right before coming down off the mountain.” Suri was obsessed with owls. They were also fiber artist companions, but neither had ever tried crocheting small, stuffed yarn creatures before. Clothing and blankets were the usual fare.

“Oh, good! They’ll be happy to hear it.”

---