Page 7 of Into the Woods

I kneeled down in front of her and put my hands out like she was a strange dog, and I was trying to show her I was safe. So dumb since this was a kid and not a dog.Geez.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m not going to hurt you. Can I see your boo-boo?” I rolled my eyes at the stupid baby word I’d used, but she was little, maybe it was good to talk to her in words she’d get.

She sniffled silently and with the smallest voice replied, “You already did,” before shoving her arm toward me. When she moved her hand, I saw a dirty cut with pieces of stick and bark stuck in the drying blood.

My brows rose, and I asked, “That’s ’cause of me?”

Her pitiful, teary nod tore at my heart. I’d never drawn blood before, never hurt someone even thoughOncletold me it was time to start getting used to that kind of thing. My gaze darted around the small clearing looking for anything that might stickout, show that this was a test of his. There was nothing, but that was weird too.

I pulled my t-shirt over my head and cradled the little girl’s wrist in it. “Are you lost?”

A sniffle and shake of her head was all I got.

“You out here alone?”

A nod.

“How far you live from here?” Maybe her house was close; it would make sense and then she could walk home and get her cut cleaned.

A shrug, a sniffle, and a tiny nod.Great.

“My name is Christophe; what’s yours?” I rocked back onto my toes and stood, helping her to her feet as well.

“Winnie,” she said, smearing blood from her free hand across her face as she wiped at her tears.

Mamanwould cuff me good when she saw this poor little girl, but I couldn’t just leave her here, hurt and bleeding. Not when it was my fault. My shoulders sagged as I realized I deserved the smack to the back of my head.

“How old are you, Winnie?” I held her gently but tried to steer her down the path toward my house.

She dug her heels in, not budging from her side of the log. “Five and…what’s more than a half? I’m turning six next month.”

Freaking hell, she was just a kid.

“Why don’t you come to my house? Mymamanwill clean this and feed you honey cookies for being brave. Then we’ll get you home.” It sounded like a good plan to me, but Winnie started shaking her head at the mention of going to my house.

“I can’t. I’m not allowed to go past the log.” Like she was making a point, she took a step back. “I can go home.” She tugged at her wrist and grimaced. Sticks fragments and dried blood had pasted my t-shirt to her tender flesh and a fresh round of tears sprung to her eyes.

I followed her movement. “Wait…wait.” I couldn’t let her rip at the wound and the tears…her damn tears were too much for me. I grabbed my water bottle and pulled at the cap with my teeth. When it was open, I tilted it close to her wrist and waited for her to meet my eyes.

When her focus was on me, I said, “I gotta clean this and then I’ll let you go, promise.” I continued after she nodded agreement. “I need you to be brave, okay? It’s just water, but it might sting a little. Can you do that for me?” I felt bad, because it was probably going to sting more than just a little.

“Uh-huh.” Her lips smooshed together like she was determined not to show any cracks, but as I sprayed the water into her open cut, her chin wobbled and the corners of her mouth pulled down as her shoulders bounced with rapid little breaths.

I washed away the blood and the cotton of my shirt pulled away. Most of the debris pooled in my palm as she lifted her wrist from my grasp. With as much care as I could manage, I gently dabbed her arm dry, noting that the cut wasn’t huge. Maybe it wouldn’t scar if her mom put some salve on it. And a Band-Aid. And she really probably did need a cookie. Kids liked that kind of thing, right?

“Can I go home now?” she asked, fighting a tremble in her voice.

“That’s what I promised. You want me to walk you home?” Why was she out here in the woods all alone? She was way too little.

“No, that’s okay.” She shook her head, eyes wide like she really didn’t want me tagging along. “Thank you for taking care of me,” she said and then turned and skipped away, picking her way along the path.

I watched her go until the trees swallowed her, and then I counted to ten. I stole after her as quietly as I could and caughtup before long. I kept just enough distance that she’d never know I was there, but I couldn’t let her walk through the woods alone, not when she was hurt. Not when she was so, so little.

We walked like that for almost half an hour before the trees fell away, opening up to the yard of an old, rundown farmhouse. It looked deserted so I stepped to the edge of the tree line, ready to follow her and bring her back home with me. Which, again, was dumb because I was just a kid, too. But even then, I knew it was wrong for Winnie to be traipsing around in the woods alone.

The screen door banged shut and angry voices drifted across the yard to me before the main door closed, cutting off anything further.

At least she was home safe.

---