Chapter 1 – Abandon all hope, ye who enter here
Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.
Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy.
Beneath the inky canopy of the Woods, where moonlight seeped through the foliage like liquid silver, the only sounds were the hushed rustle of leaves underfoot. Amidst this eerie stillness, the silhouettes of two children navigated the labyrinthine paths, their presence weaving through the gnarled trees like phantoms in a forgotten realm. Lost within the heart of the forsaken forest, the siblings moved with a sense of urgency.
The girl, her features contorted in frustration, blazed a trail through the undergrowth, her footfalls heavy and determined. Beside her, the boy struggled to keep pace, his breaths shallow and quick as he cast anxious glances at his surroundings. Despite his apprehension, he had followed his sister, compelled by the reckless idea of running away from home.
"Tonia, just wait up a second!" The boy's voice, high-pitched and laced with desperation, fell on deaf ears as Tonia's strides seemed to quicken. Her bony legs propelled her forward with an almost feverish determination, leaving her brother to scramble to keep up. His voice carried a plea, tinged with an edge of worry. "It's going to get too dark to find our way back!"
With a flash of defiance, Tonia shot a withering look over her shoulder, her fiery gaze clashing with her brother's. Her words dripped with scorn, yet a glimmer of vulnerability betrayed her true feelings. "Go back if you're scared, Jacob! I'm not turning back now!"
Though her words were harsh, a thread of uncertainty lingered beneath the surface. As they moved deeper into the Woods, the world around them grew dimmer, the shadows stretching longer and more ominous. And even as Tonia pressed forward, a small part of her hoped that Jacob would defy her orders, that he would prove her wrong, and that together they could navigate the treacherous path that lay ahead.
Jacob's patience wore thin, irritation etching lines onto his features as he trailed behind his stubborn sister. He was on the cusp of firing back a retort, a mix of frustration and concern burning within him, when a sudden cacophony of axe strikes pierced the air. Both siblings froze, their gazes locking in mutual alarm, instinct compelling them to seek refuge.
With silent urgency, the twins melted into the cover of a towering oak tree, their breaths held in anticipation. Peering through the gaps in the foliage, their eyes fixated on the scene before them—a bearded man with a lantern ablaze like a distant star, locked in a dance with a peculiar, contorted tree. Its grotesque form seemed to exude a viscous, black substance that clung to the air like a sinister secret.
The woodcutter was shrouded in an enigmatic aura, draped in a coat as dark as the shadows that danced around him. His hat concealed his identity, casting a veil of mystery that intrigued and unsettled. Strapped to his back was a jumble of logs, his lips curving into a tune that defied the eerie surroundings—a melody that rang with unexpected cheerfulness, an odd contrast to both his own persona and the haunting forest.
"Of course, because today was just the perfect day to encounter an axe-wielding lunatic!" Antonia's sarcastic whisper carried a quiver of trepidation, her words echoing Jacob's own apprehensions. A hushed motion from him urged her into silence, an anxious finger pressed against his lips. In response, her frustration culminated in a shove, meant to be playful but unexpectedly forceful.
The shove, though unintended in its strength, propelled Jacob backward, his steps faltering and unsteady. A single root lay in ambush, snaring his foot and sending him crashing to the ground. The resulting thud reverberated through the silence like a tolling bell, their hearts racing in tandem with the reverent hush that fell over the scene.
In the span of a heartbeat, their faces were bathed in a searing brilliance, the blinding light cast by the lantern's radiant glow. Beneath the weight of weariness, the woodcutter's eyes found purchase on the unexpected visitors, his gaze a mix of exhaustion and grim realization. "What brings you to these Woods, children?" His voice, rough and seasoned, wove a tapestry of urgency entwined with the thread of resigned inevitability. "Are you unaware that the Beast roams freely here?"
Jacob's voice caught in his throat, the words he sought to utter caught in a snare of fear that tightened with each beat of his heart. His stammered attempts dissolved into fragments, leaving him speechless and vulnerable. In that moment of paralyzing apprehension, Tonia stepped forward, positioning herself as a shield between her brother and the imposing figure before them.
"We mean no harm, sir!" Tonia's voice, though tinged with defiance, carried an undercurrent of uncertainty. She held her ground, her gaze oscillating between Jacob's struggle to rise and the man's scrutiny that seemed to dissect their intentions.
"We're simply lost and trying to find our way home!" Jacob's words tumbled forth, his voice revealing a desperation born from fear and uncertainty. Tonia, who might have argued otherwise under different circumstances, could only offer a silent nod of agreement.
A wry smile flitted across the woodcutter's features, a response that was both sardonic and laden with somber truth. "Well, that presents a bit of a dilemma... The Unknown isn't often forgiving when it comes to those who lose their way."
With measured steps, the man approached them, never relinquishing his grip on the lantern that radiated an ethereal luminescence. His hand extended toward Jacob, a silent offer of assistance that hung in the air like a delicate thread. Tentatively, after a beat of hesitation, Jacob's fingers interlocked with the woodcutter's calloused hand, his palm met with an unexpected chill that sent a shiver racing down his spine.
"Thank you, Mr... Woodsman..." The boy's hushed words lingered in the air, suspended without response, like a question unanswered by the enigmatic figure before them. In the silence that followed, the man's contemplative pause seemed to stretch into eternity, a brief interlude pregnant with unspoken possibilities. The twins exchanged a glance, their shared uncertainty reflected in the depths of their eyes.
"I suppose..." The words, delivered with an undertone of dissatisfaction yet underscored by resolve, broke the silence. "It's too late for you to venture home alone." The announcement bore the weight of an irrevocable decision. "When the sun rises anew, you can continue on your way. But until then, you may seek refuge in my dwelling."
With a gesture that beckoned them to follow, the Woodsman turned and strode into the heart of the forest. Tonia's nudge conveyed the internal struggle waging within her—a precarious balance between skepticism and the necessity of survival. Her voice, a conspiratorial whisper, revealed her uncertainty. "Are we really going to follow this man to his desolate house?"
Jacob merely shrugged and moved to follow the enigmatic figure. His voice held a hint of pragmatism. "It's a fifty-fifty situation, sis. Either we take shelter in his home and face a fifty percent chance of danger, or we remain here and confront the same odds of being ensnared by the Beast."
The illogical logic of his reasoning earned him a quizzical arch of Tonia's eyebrow. "What? That makes absolutely no sense."
An uncertain smile tugged at the corner of Jacob's lips as he took a tentative step forward. "Well, neither does getting lost in the Unknown, does it?"
Within the cocoon of the wooden cabin, the fireplace's dancing flames cast an incandescent glow upon the faces of the two children, their features momentarily transformed by the flickering light. Left within the living room of the Woodsman's abode, they bore witness to his departure, his steps fading into the corridors that concealed the secrets of his dwelling. Antonia's gaze remained steadfast, vigilant for any trace of impending danger that might pierce the veil of safety they'd found.
The wooden sanctuary nestled amidst the heart of the forest was an unexpected haven of warmth and comfort. Jacob's gaze wandered, but his observation carried a distinct purpose divergent from his sister's watchfulness. His attention was ensnared by the intricate design, an unexpected marvel that transcended his limited familiarity with architecture. His eyes traced the lines and angles of the construction, an amalgamation of traditional and modern elements that defied conventional expectations.
"Maybe we should consider making a hasty exit." The timbre of his sister's voice shattered his reverie, pulling him back from the reverie of his thoughts. Jacob responded with a roll of his eyes, a gesture laden with an undercurrent of exasperation. "Good golly, Tonia! Haven't your brilliant ideas gotten us into enough trouble already?" A pointed look from her held a hint of reproach, met with a sigh from him. "We'd be foolhardy to attempt escaping now, especially with the darkness outside."
Tonia's frustration simmered beneath a veil of silence, her retort stymied by the stark reality that loomed before them. Her brother's words, however, only served to escalate her vexation. "Oh, so we're supposed to sit here like sitting ducks and hope that the Woodsman doesn't have nefarious plans for us?"
In the shadow of her ire, a thought danced at the forefront of her mind, an idea that Jacob seemed to read effortlessly. "Don't tell me you're actually considering confronting the Woodsman, sis?"
Her response was a steely resolve that carried her toward the cabin's entrance, footsteps weighted with determination as she moved toward the truth she sought. Jacob watched her retreat with a resigned sigh, fatigue tugging at his limbs and sapping his will to chase after her. With a knowing glance at the door, he whispered to the empty air, "Guess I'll just have to be prepared for another adventure then."
Antonia ventured beyond the cabin's threshold, her determined steps guided by an unwavering intent to validate the seeds of suspicion that had taken root in her mind. The soft susurrus of wood being ground reached her ears, a distant echo that beckoned her toward the source of intrigue. Approaching an unassuming window, she peered inside, her gaze drawn to the heart of the room where the black lantern emitted an uncanny radiance. Kneeling beside a sturdy grinder, the Woodsman's hands moved with practiced precision, arranging the logs he had amassed with a methodical grace.
In a matter of seconds, an eerie transformation overtook the scene. A cascade of obsidian oil began to flow from the grinding mechanism, pooling into small glass vials arranged with meticulous care. The odor that emanated from the oil carried a scent that was at once nauseating and ferrous, an olfactory assault that carried the weight of an unfamiliar familiarity. Curiously, an image from Tonia's past resurfaced—a recollection of the day her grandfather had slaughtered a pig for sustenance, the mingling of odors and emotions now resurrected by the pungent fragrance.
"The oil pours out, dark as the cruel night, reminding me only of my past mistakes..."
Those somber words, uttered as a mournful lament, reverberated in the air, weaving an enigmatic tapestry of sentiment. The weight of that unspoken confession was enough to spur Tonia's retreat from the scene, her unease compelling her to rejoin her brother's side. As she rejoined him, a silent exchange unfolded—the unspoken inquiry in Jacob's gaze met with a shrug that communicated, "I found nothing remarkable." Yet, an unshakable aftereffect lingered, the acrid essence of the oil still clinging to the recesses of her senses.
Minutes later, the Woodsman returned, having shed his coat and hat, his silhouette softened by the gentle flicker of the firelight. The absence of these trappings rendered him considerably less imposing. Despite the thick beard that framed his visage, a closer observation revealed that his age might not be as advanced as his appearance initially suggested. He couldn't have been more than forty, but the weariness that etched dark circles beneath his eyes lent him a semblance of elder wisdom. His tousled brown hair further hinted at the weight of his burdens, yet his grip on the lantern remained unyielding, as if the artifact were an inseparable extension of his very being.
Seated in an aged chair, the Woodsman positioned himself beside the siblings, his movements carrying an air of both weariness and introspection. "Now that I have finished my chores..." His voice trailed off as he seemed to deliberate the next course of action. "Could you start by telling me why you were walking through the woods at night? Didn't your parents warn you about the Beast?" An edge of alarm crept into his eyes, momentarily transporting him to a distant place of contemplation. "Unless... You're not from around here."
His gaze, penetrating and knowing, seemed to imply an awareness beyond what residents of the Unknown would possess. The unspoken knowledge seemed to swirl around him, lending an enigmatic aura to his inquiry. Antonia's words were measured, as if she sought to share just enough without divulging too much. "We are acquainted with the Beast, but we were merely... taking a walk."
"Oh really?"
The sarcasm laced within the Woodsman's response did not evade the siblings' notice. "The rest is none of your business," Tonia retorted with guarded defiance.
A sudden confession spilled forth from Jacob's lips, unbidden. "She had an argument with our mother..."
The girl's exasperated outcry underscored her displeasure at her brother's candor. The glimmer of amusement that danced in the woodcutter's eyes suggested a shared understanding of familial dynamics. "I'm not here to pass judgment, but venturing into the woods at night, for any reason, poses great risk." With a fluid motion, he stood and gestured for them to follow, leading them from the room into the modest kitchen. "It's late. Have you both had a proper meal?"
"We've been wandering since before lunch, so you can imagine," Jacob quipped, punctuating his response with a hushed chuckle. Tonia, arms folded, stood silent and contemplative.
"I believe there's some ham hock and beans I can warm up for your supper." A sense of practical hospitality guided his actions as he dished out portions onto three plates. Settling himself at the table, the Woodsman began to eat in a nonchalant manner, his actions unburdened by self-consciousness. A tentative pause ensued as the children regarded their plates, mirroring his mealtime demeanor before following suit and chewing their food with a newfound resolve.
Though it might not have been a masterpiece, the sustenance served its purpose in keeping hunger at bay. A muted symphony of fork clinks and hushed bites unfolded as dinner continued in a contemplative silence.
Amidst the quietude, Jacob, eager to break the ice, initiated a conversation. "I suppose we forgot to introduce ourselves." The woodcutter's eyes flickered upward briefly, acknowledging the effort. "I'm Jacob, and this mean-spirited girl here is Antonia." His sister's playful response materialized in the form of a tongue poke directed at her brother. The Woodsman nodded, accepting the information, yet refraining from offering his own name.
As the meal concluded, the older man directed the siblings back to the living room. Along the way, a gentle nudge from Jacob seemed to encourage his sister to extend an olive branch to the man who had thus far extended kindness. True to his character, the Woodsman returned bearing two sleeping bags, a gesture of hospitality that resonated with the cautious gratitude they had felt earlier.
Hesitating only slightly, Antonia extended an apology. "I'm sorry for my earlier suspicion, sir. My mother always told me the importance of caution, especially with strangers. But your actions have shown you to be trustworthy."
"Your mother has taught you well, young lady," he affirmed, his voice devoid of censure. "Here are the sleeping bags. Rest now, for you have a full day ahead."
"Thank you, sir. But, if you don't mind, what should we call you? Since we shared our names, it's only fair that you share yours," Tonia queried.
"Call me Wirt," he replied, the name falling from his lips with a trace of hesitation, as if it had been some time since he had introduced himself in such a manner. "Now, get some rest, children. Tomorrow is a new day."
With expressions of gratitude, the siblings bid Wirt goodnight and retreated to their sleeping quarters. In his own solitude, Wirt returned to his room, his fingers tracing the contours of the lantern that held the fire's eternal embrace.
As memories of the past resurfaced, he found himself involuntarily whispering:
"Good night, Greg."
I do not own Over the Garden Wall, or any of the related characters. Over the Garden Wall is owned by Cartoon Network. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story.