The glade beyond the exit swayed in a tranquil wind. In the centre was Asatru, the great white stag. He engulfed the space, at least three times the boy’s height, not including the antlers.

 

Did the trees move out of the way? It was a valid question. There was no path in. Not one wide enough to accommodate Asatru.

 

Ignoring the flutter in his chest, the boy edged closer.

 

It was so beautiful. The fur almost glowed, each individual hair coated in light.

 

The stag breathed easily through its nose, blinked purposefully and ever-so-gently, lowered its head down to the boy’s height.

 

The breath felt like a spring breeze on his skin. Stretching out his fingers, the boy waited. The enormous head of the stag nodded.

 

Unaware he was holding his breath, the boy exhaled as his fingers slid over the soft fur. He run his hands along the stag’s neck, only stopping as he found himself staring into the beast’s oval eye, as blue as any sky.

 

'Thank you,’ he whispered, swallowing down the lump in his throat. ‘Without you, I would…’

 

The stag blinked again and with a tip of its head nuzzled the boy’s cheek with the side of its warm nose.

 

‘Asatru The Great,’ sang a voice, from behind.

 

The boy jumped and Asatru made a backstep. Tinglenook scurried out of the organic hut, his roots knotting as he dashed toward them.

 

‘Please forgive me, I have heard such tales of your life. You are a part of the very blood of Avalonia. Your full title seemed appropriate.’ Tinglenook came to a halt beside the boy, his eyes fixed on the great beast.  

 

Asatru bowed his head.

 

‘Indeed. I understand,’ Tinglenook said, with a cheerful voice.

 

‘Understand what?’ asked the boy.

 

The sapling grinned and returned his attention to Asatru. He was focused entirely on the stag, the leaves on his crown flapping wildly as he nodded.

 

‘I see, I see,’ he said, before looking to the boy. ‘It seems you cannot hear Asatru.’

​

‘Hear him?’

 

‘Yes, well, maybe hear is the wrong word. It’s more like sensing I suppose.’

 

The boy returned to the face of the stag. Its mouth wasn’t moving. There certainly wasn’t any voice.

 

‘Asatru says that this is temporary, eventually he will be able to talk with you directly.’

 

‘So, you can speak with him?’

 

‘Of course. It’s far stranger that you cannot.’

 

High above his head the stag flicked its ears and shook its head.

 

‘Asatru says you look well.’

 

‘I feel ok.’ An understatement. Since drinking from the beaker, he’d exponentially improved.

 

The boy plonked down onto a log surrounded by pretty yellow flowers. The citric scent stung his sinuses; in a pleasant way.

 

‘I’m afraid his memory has not returned.’ Tinglenook glanced over to him.

 

‘I remember nothing.’ The boy squirmed on his makeshift bench. ‘I have a sense of recognition, of things, of words, but nothing else.’

 

‘What of the lady? Did she seem in any way familiar?’ asked Tinglenook - on Asatru’s behalf.

 

‘Yes,’ the boy exclaimed. ‘Both of them.’

 

Asatru cocked his head.

 

‘He saw two incarnations.’ Tinglenook told the stag.

 

‘The elder woman and the young woman,’ the boy explained.

 

A tiny bird with bright-blue plumage and flecks of stark red on its beak, landed on Asatru’s antlers.

 

‘Who are they?’ he asked.

 

The tiny tree looked to Asatru. ‘This is a special place. It is new, a virgin land in its first throws of creation. It is a place where the reality is yet to solidify.’

 

The bird, seeming to believe it was in the boughs of one of the surrounding trees, tapped its beak on Asatru’s branches, then flittered onto his broad back. 

 

‘The Lady of the Glade is the very essence of renewal, all things to all beings,’ the translating sapling told him.

 

The bird moved out of view and the boy, distracted, stood up to peer at the feathered creature as it pecked at the fur.

 

‘You see and experience the Lady of the Glade in the form that will help you the most. The woman and the young lady are important to you. Asatru hoped this place would spark a memory, alas, instead…’ Tinglenook broke off.

 

The aborted sentence sliced through the boy’s mild interest in the bird. ‘Instead, what?’

 

The sapling focused on the enormous creature, half-hidden in its shadow. His arm-branches jerked up and down. Possibly a shrug? ‘We must find another way to return your memory,’ he told him.

 

The great white stag flicked its tail.

 

Tinglenook continued. ‘There’s a way to restore your past, but it’s not here.’

 

The mood broke as a disembodied growl echoed around the glade. Startled, the petite bird took flight.

 

‘Sounds like we should get you that food I promised,’ said Tinglenook, laughing half-heartedly. He patted his trunk where a belly might be.

 

The boy’s eyes widened as the stag bowed its head before him. The boy got to his feet. His skin was prickly and cool, as though absorbing the light of Asatru. Returning to full height the stag tipped its antlers to Tinglenook.

 

‘Of course, of course,’ Tinglenook said. ‘I shall see to it immediately. Our Lady wishes to speak with you, Asatru.’

 

The stag stared down at the boy.

 

‘Asatru says you shall leave at the first kiss of the sun-disc.’

 

‘Leaving? Where are we going?’

 

Something grazed his hand and coiled around his fingers. The boy froze as he imagined some strange creature entwining around his hand. He pointed his eyes down, too afraid to move. It was one of Tinglenook’s wooden hands gripping two of his fingers.

 

‘First Asatru must speak with our Lady.’

 

A frown weighted the boy’s face.

 

‘And you must eat, drink and refresh.’

 

The rumble in his belly echoed its agreement.

 

Tinglenook stroked the boy’s arm and said to Asatru, ‘I promise, I promise.’

 

The boy glanced hopefully at the tiny tree.

 

‘He says we must go easy on the toadberry juice – it has quite a kick.’ He couldn’t quite tell, but it looked like the little tree winked at him.

 

The stag brushed the ground with a hoof and blinked twice. The boy smiled, the sense of calm and safety once again returned.

 

Tinglenook tugged a little on his fingers. The boy loosened his arm and allowed himself to be led back into the cool of the cabin. The floating table greeted his hungry eyes. Smothered in nuts and berries, even more numerous and elaborate than before, he dove in. Sticky, sweet juices drizzled his chin and his tastebuds erupted into a triumphant return to life; so many textures and tastes.

 

‘Here,’ said Tinglenook, as he placed a wooden beaker next to him. ‘One cup will do no harm.’ He scrunched up his wooden face.

 

The sweet, honey-like juice slid deliciously down his throat. Unlike the liquid he’d tasted earlier, this drink sat warm in his belly and with each glug the beaker actually emptied.

 

‘Don’t tell Asatru,’ Tinglenook whispered, as he placed a fresh, full beaker on the table. 

 

The boy polished off his first helping, then set to work on the next.

 

A sheepish smile crept across his lips. Tinglenook poured some of the liquid onto the ground. The sapling grinned, stepped onto the soggy patch and sighed. His roots sunk into the earth and the shallow puddle began to disappear.

 

The boy chortled as Tinglenook’s face went floppy.

 

‘Ahhh,’ said Tinglenook, ‘There’s nothing quite like a nice drop of toadberry juice to end the day.’

 

A few seconds later the pair were rolling on the ground in hysterical laughter. And there they stayed, until the boy's ribs ached with pleasure and the sapling’s branches quivered with joy.