'Oh, Mummy, a forest! A forest of our very own!'

An overexcited ten-year-old girl bounded to the edge of the woodland, chattering animatedly, her bright dress dancing in the light summer breeze. It wasn't really a forest, of course, but to her it appeared that way: an expanse of trees, rather dark and mysterious and smelling of foliage and mist.

'Come back here, Melissa,' her mother called from the doorway of the little cottage. 'You can explore later. We're unpacking now.'

Melissa grumpily folded her arms. 'I don't want to do unpacking,' she sulked.

Her mother sighed. Melissa had been like this permanently since they had begun the process of moving into their new home – she was fascinated by the cottage and by the beautiful countryside in which it stood, but she didn't like the time it was taking to sort everything out. 'All right, go and have a run in the woods. But be careful, and come back when I call.'

At this Melissa brightened visibly. Without even thanking her mother she dashed into the woods, skipping over the nettles at the border; her feet danced over the leaves and twigs that covered the ground; she smiled as she ran, and at last came to a clearing, where she stopped for a moment to catch her breath.

Dappled sunlight tumbled through the canopy overhead, creating rays that lit up leaves and roots. It was a truly beautiful forest, to Melissa at least: verdant and vast, with an aura of mystery that would bring her back again and again.

It was then that she noticed the fallen tree.

From where she was standing it was a huge circle, a ring formed from the roots that had been torn from the ground. The remarkable thing about it was just how enormous it was. The roots were very thick and spread out perhaps fourteen or fifteen feet. A hole had been created in the ground where the tree had been, but it had since been filled up with soil and branches.

Cautiously Melissa went over to the roots and walked round them. There she found the rest of the tree: a huge plant, stretching out into the depths of the woods further than she could see. The trunk was wider than she was tall. It was a sorry sight – such a magnificent tree, felled in its prime, now lying sad and mouldering on the forest floor. Colourful fungi snaked across the wood; lichens had taken hold on the thinner branches.

It was, however, remarkable, Melissa found, that the main trunk itself – that huge, seven-feet-wide trunk – was untouched by any other plant. It had survived the mushrooms, the mosses, the lichens; it remained clear and smooth as if it was still alive, still growing.

She placed one hand on the trunk and began to follow it into the woods, silent in respect for the tree's fate; and suddenly she felt something different beneath her hand. Something smoother than the bark. Something that felt like... glass?

Quickly she stopped, turned, looked at where her hand was resting.

It was indeed glass.

There was a window in the trunk!

It had misted over slightly and was cracked in the corner, but it was definitely a window. Beyond it Melissa could make out red curtains; beyond the curtains – some sort of room.

A tree-house! she thought with a jolt of excitement. An adept explorer, she hauled herself up onto the top of the trunk; and she got a shock, for protruding from the other side of the trunk was a whole house, built from wood between the branches and extending into the trunk with the room she had seen.

Rain and decomposers had attacked at this wooden tree-house, making it mouldy and discoloured; it had evidently been on the floor for a long while.

Carefully she clambered onto the sideways house, and came by the door next to the tree's trunk. To her astonishment there was a name upon it: The Angry Pixie.

Pixie? she thought, her mind whirling. Are there pixies in these woods?

Feeling a little silly, she knocked on the horizontal door; but, as she had expected, there was no answer. The door gave a sad little creak but managed to stay on its hinges. Slightly disappointed, she stood on the trunk and, her legs wobbling slightly, walked along it, taking care to keep her balance. Lightly she ran on until she came to what looked like another house built into the tree; the door of this house was a pastel blue and the name upon it Silky.

She found herself wondering who or what Silky was. A pixie like the Angry Pixie, perhaps? No – it sounded like a fairy name, if she was remaining in the realms of fantasy. She could imagine a pretty fairy with golden hair tumbling over a slim figure and gossamer wings, like the ones she had read about in story-books. But her imagination was running wild again. There must be some boring, normal explanation behind all this. Her mother was always telling her not to think such silly things.

She was about to carry on up the trunk – or along it, now that it was fallen – but then she heard her mother calling to her.

'Melissa, where are you? Come and help your father with your toys.'

Melissa groaned. She was in the middle of an adventure – some mystery that she felt she needed to solve. Now that her family owned the woods she knew that she was the only one who could solve this puzzle; and how she wanted to!

But she didn't want to disobey her mother, and so she jumped down from the trunk, snagging her skirt slightly on a bramble that was tentatively climbing up the wood. Then she hurried back towards the house.

Just then a breeze ruffled the branches above her, quickly spreading further down, to the leaves of the canopy and finally to the forest floor; and suddenly Melissa thought that she could make out words – a voice! – in the wind.

Melissa...

Was she imagining things again?

Help us...

She caught her breath and looked around her. 'Hello?' she called at last, her voice trembling.

No reply. She turned on the spot, looking for a source for the voice; but there was nothing. The wind dropped; the Sun came out from behind a cloud; the forest was once again silent.

Melissa shrugged and continued, resolving to return as soon as she could.