The Secret of Her Forest

by Meemie

It's been five years since Brendan returned to Kells. The abbey is booming in population and everyone is looking ahead to the future. However, as time marches on, Aisling refuses to walk with it. She grows more protective of her forest everyday as the villagers expand their territory into her territory. As the war between the abbey and Aisling rages on, her past reveals itself.

9. Chapter 9: Threads of Hope

Chapter 9

Threads of Hope

"We can't go on like this. We have to fight." Another advisor across from me exclaims. My palms grow sweaty and clammy. My husband offers his hand, but I refuse to take it. He'll know that I'm nervous, more nervous than usual. I'm typically so calm, so under control. Yet, tonight, I am like a child awaiting punishment from parents. I fear the worst. A whole army of advisors, executives, and people high up on the hierarchal system all gathered in a single building with a single room that holds a single, huge table and many chairs. Chairs filled with people that are deciding our fate as the Tuatha de Danann.

"They are too powerful. No matter what we try, they always will advance. They are almost on our threshold. We have to start thinking about the best options for our tribe, the best paths to take." One of the three kings of Ireland across the table declares. He is the husband of my sister, Fodla, who also accompanies him in this meeting.

"What options do we have? Our tribe has been connected to the land for generations."

"Well, we either must move to a new land or die along with it. Our enemies are approaching fast, too fast to make any long-term preparations. We must act now or never." I watch with a silent voice as a painting of despair is created before my eyes. Each member in the room is frantically reaching out for a slim thread of hope to survive with. Even though the weight of our burden is too massive to be sustained by such a thread.

My mind eventually tunes out the words spoken by the leaders of our tribe and return to the forest. I imagine of the emerald green leaves and warm breezes that carry the whispers of the wind. I picture the glistening water and I can feel the coolness of it as I submerge my hands in the river. I dream of her running through the forest, seeing the nature through her eyes. Yes, our kind has always considered ourselves connected to nature, but Aisling is different. She doesn't connect with nature, she becomes nature itself. She is beautiful and young and free.

My perfect painting of my child is shattered as the doors to the hut crash open to reveal a messenger, dressed in a cream-colored cloth and decorated with crests. A messenger bag is slung around his shoulder. My husband stands and stares with fear at the messenger who announces the news we have all knew would happen, but have always dreaded the event.

"Your highnesses, the Milesians are here..."