He Wanted to Leave

The opening in the ancient tree swallowed them whole.

Darkness.

Not the darkness of night.

The darkness of closed eyes.

The rough bark pressed against their shoulders as they squeezed through the impossibly wide trunk.

Roots twisted beneath their feet.

The air smelled of damp earth.

Then—

Morning.

They stumbled from the opposite side of the tree into bright sunlight.

Clint caught himself against the trunk.

"...What..."

He looked back.

The opening was gone.

Only weathered bark greeted him.

Tess brushed cobwebs from her sleeve.

"So much for walking through trees."

She closed the book.

Held it tighter beneath her arm.

Ahead of them the Blue Tree Forest ended.

Its blue canopy stopped abruptly at the crest of a gentle hill.

Beyond it stood the Weeping Willow.

Its long silver branches hung motionless in the morning air.

Tears slid continuously from every leaf.

Collecting in the dark earth below.

Waiting beneath its endless curtain of branches stood Simon.

One hand rested atop his hickory walking stick.

The other tucked casually behind his back.

He smiled the moment he saw them.

"There you are."

Neither Tess nor Clint answered immediately.

They climbed the slope in silence, brushing dirt from their clothes.

Bits of bark clung stubbornly to Clint's jacket.

Tess absentmindedly picked dried leaves from her hair without ever loosening her grip on the book.

Simon waited patiently.

As though he'd known the exact moment they would arrive.

When they reached him, he gave a courteous nod.

"Congratulations."

Clint blinked.

"...Congratulations?"

"You've done remarkably well."

His smile widened.

"I knew you could."

A tiny wink.

Gone almost before it happened.

Clint looked toward the forest behind him.

"I..."

He let out a long breath.

"...I don't even know what to say."

Simon tilted his head.

"Then perhaps tell me..."

He tapped the ground once with his walking stick.

"...have you learned anything?"

Clint didn't hesitate.

"I learned..."

He looked toward the road beyond the hill.

"...I want out of this place."

Simon nodded thoughtfully.

"A commendable aspiration."

His eyes shifted to Tess.

"And you?"

She said nothing.

Her fingers only tightened around the worn leather cover of Enchanting Tales of an Otherwise Ordinary Day.

Simon noticed.

Of course he noticed.

His smile became almost imperceptibly warmer.

"Ah."

His eyes settled upon the book.

"It appears you've made a friend."

Tess instinctively took half a step backward.

Simon extended an open hand.

"May I?"

"No."

The answer came immediately.

Simon slowly lowered his hand.

"As I suspected."

He looked at the book almost fondly.

"It has a way of choosing people."

Tess's grip tightened further.

"What does it do?"

Simon chuckled.

"A better question..."

He leaned lightly upon his walking stick.

"...is what will it do for you?"

Silence.

"It can be quite generous."

His eyes met hers.

"For a price."

"What price?"

He looked toward the Weeping Willow.

Then back to Tess.

"Blood."

Nothing more.

The word lingered.

Neither elaborated.

Nor explained.

Clint shifted uneasily.

"I don't like the sound of that."

"You needn't."

Simon smiled.

"I have gifts instead."

From behind his back he produced two knives.

One rested easily across his palm.

Its polished black handle fit a full hand.

Its blade broad.

Elegant.

Practical.

The second was noticeably smaller.

Its white handle carved from smooth bone.

Its narrow blade gleamed almost delicately in the morning light.

Simon presented them equally.

"No gift should arrive without purpose."

His smile never wavered.

"One of these..."

He had barely begun.

Tess moved.

She snatched the larger knife from Simon's hand.

Clint turned.

Confused.

"Tess—"

The blade buried itself deep in his chest.

His eyes widened.

He staggered backward.

She stepped with him.

Pulled the knife free.

Before he could breathe...

Before he could speak…

She seized the smaller knife.

One swift motion.

The narrow blade swept across his throat.

Clint collapsed wordlessly onto the grass.

The white-handled knife slipped from her fingers and landed beside him.

Blood spread silently beneath him.

The only sound was the steady weeping of the Willow.

Simon raised one eyebrow.

Tess stared down at Clint.

Then calmly wiped the larger blade against his jacket.

"What?"

She looked back at Simon.

"He said he wanted out."

She glanced toward the knives.

"I wanted to make sure I picked the right one."

A shrug.

"Besides..."

Her fingers curled possessively around the book.

"...you said the cost was blood."

Simon regarded her for a long moment.

Then...

He smiled.

"Such precision of thought."

A brief pause.

"...How novel."

The compliment hung in the air with unsettling sincerity.

Simon bent and retrieved the smaller knife from beside Clint's body.

He examined the blade.

Satisfied.

He slid it back into its sheath.

"Entirely satisfactory."

He gestured toward a narrow path winding down the opposite side of the hill.

"You are free to go."

Tess looked at the path.

"Your friend's motorcar awaits at the bottom."

He nodded toward the distant road.

"The keys remain inside."

She didn't thank him.

She tucked the black-handled knife into her belt, adjusted the book beneath her arm...

...and walked away.

She never looked back.

Simon watched until she disappeared beyond the hill.

Silence reclaimed the clearing.

The Weeping Willow continued to weep.

Its tears fell steadily into the blood-soaked earth around Clint's body.

Simon remained motionless.

Patient.

Waiting.

His eyes drifted toward the edge of the Blue Tree Forest.

He waited a little longer.

A faint crease crossed his brow.

"...No, Limbo."

Almost disappointment.

Almost.

He sighed.

"I suppose I'll have to feed you tonight."

He stepped toward Clint.

Behind him, the Willow mourned without end.

Beyond the hill, the Leviathan swept through the Field of Golden Flowers like a great unseen rhinoceros, bending the blossoms in a single graceful wave.

Deep within the Blue Tree Forest...

...something laughed.

Simon hummed a few absent-minded bars of an old tune.

He smiled to himself.

"How childish."

The humming ceased.

The Willow continued its endless vigil.

The Golden Flowers danced in the wind.

The Blue Tree Forest rustled softly to itself.

Just as Simon liked it.