They say this is where the elves live, you whispered in my ear. I swallowed, because you were stepping off the path and we weren’t supposed to, but the forest had always known you like a friend, so as you led me deeper into the woods, I wasn’t afraid.
I wanted to ask you what we were doing, wanted to know answers, wanted to understand, but you were too fast-paced on your slender legs for me to slow you down with questions, and I trusted you anyway, so I kept quiet.
You didn’t know where you were going, but it was as though you’d been there before, by the way you didn’t hesitate as you walked over plants and roots and dead leaves in bare feet with a look of determination on your face.
I ran to catch up with you. You were always the faster one, the one who didn’t need me like I needed you, but you let me follow you anyway, looking back over your shoulder every few minutes to make sure you hadn’t left me behind, like you cared that I was still there even though I was years younger and only slowed you down.
You saw them before I did, popping up everywhere around us, laughing from the branches of the trees, poking out of the fresh green moss, leaning lazily against the mushrooms from last night’s rain. I stared in awe, my mouth hanging open, watching a world open up in front of me with pointy-eared creatures that walked and talked and laughed and breathed just like we did, a world that no one believed existed. I myself could barely believe they were there.
Then I looked up at you, with your muddy knees and tangled hair, standing on a rock and watching it all knowingly, like you’d believed all along. You looked brave, independent, free from the world we’d left when we entered the woods, and just the sight of you awed me just as much as the elves.
But then you stepped down from your spot on the rocks and looked right at me and gave me a smile and took my hand, and I smiled back because I knew that if I couldn’t have followed you here today, you wouldn’t have come.
And that meant more to me than any elves.
I wanted to ask you what we were doing, wanted to know answers, wanted to understand, but you were too fast-paced on your slender legs for me to slow you down with questions, and I trusted you anyway, so I kept quiet.
You didn’t know where you were going, but it was as though you’d been there before, by the way you didn’t hesitate as you walked over plants and roots and dead leaves in bare feet with a look of determination on your face.
I ran to catch up with you. You were always the faster one, the one who didn’t need me like I needed you, but you let me follow you anyway, looking back over your shoulder every few minutes to make sure you hadn’t left me behind, like you cared that I was still there even though I was years younger and only slowed you down.
You saw them before I did, popping up everywhere around us, laughing from the branches of the trees, poking out of the fresh green moss, leaning lazily against the mushrooms from last night’s rain. I stared in awe, my mouth hanging open, watching a world open up in front of me with pointy-eared creatures that walked and talked and laughed and breathed just like we did, a world that no one believed existed. I myself could barely believe they were there.
Then I looked up at you, with your muddy knees and tangled hair, standing on a rock and watching it all knowingly, like you’d believed all along. You looked brave, independent, free from the world we’d left when we entered the woods, and just the sight of you awed me just as much as the elves.
But then you stepped down from your spot on the rocks and looked right at me and gave me a smile and took my hand, and I smiled back because I knew that if I couldn’t have followed you here today, you wouldn’t have come.
And that meant more to me than any elves.
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