Sneaking into the woods

Gawain had been looking forward to tonight ever since they concocted their plan. He’d came up with the idea, though it wasn’t original by any means: every equinox, each solstice, year after year, there were people who donned fae-like disguises and stole into the woods in the hopes of encountering those they were masquerading as.

“Do you think we’ll meet any faeries tonight?” Gawain asked, bouncing in his seat. He’d scarfed down his food, eyes perpetually flitting to the growing darkness past the window, and now nursed a cup of tea that threatened to spill.

His partners in crime – Nimue and Galahad – had come up to his chamber under the pretense of spending the night. They all told their parents they’d play board games and eat roasted chestnuts by the fire as they had other autumn equinoxes before, watching the merry procession of Priests pass by the lake down the hill, making their way towards the forest. Not even they venture too far in.

“Depends,” Nimue said. “I told you. It’s not unheard of, but it is rare.”

“And it’s for the best,” Galahad piped in firmly.

Nimue fixed him over the rim of her cup. Tendrils of steam framed her smirking face. “It’s that what you think when you go hiking to the heart of Avalon to pray to the Goddess?”

He met her gaze headlong. “You know it’s not the same. If I met the Lady of the Lake, I’d expect her to be kind, but not just any faerie. We have stories to warn us of that.”

All this gloom and uncertainty and anxiety – surely, the fae were a bunch of varying demeanours, from the fickle and mischievous to the sage and helpful. People were tricked; people were aided; people befriended and angered the fair folk and, in those cases where magical bloodlines sprung up, loved them. All these accounts, be them true or not, intrigued Gawain.

He said, “But we have stories of their kindness, too!”

“It’s...a coin toss,” Galahad conceded.

“And even then, can you be sure which side the coin falls on, until it’s too late?” Nimue’s eyes gleamed. Her expression bore none of the caution that Galahad’s did.

“It’s going to be alright,” Gawain said, mostly addressing him. “We’re going to be very nice and polite to any fae we meet. They like that, so they must like us too then.”

Gally studied his face – his unfaltering, encouraging smile, made all the more wider by his mounting enthusiasm – and finally smiled himself.

“And what if we do meet a mean fae?” he asked, but his tone was light.

“Then”–Gawain’s gaze darted to the sturdy leather boots by the door–“we run. Really fast.”

There came a knock at the door: quick, chipper and percussive. Gawain bounded to open it, delighted to find his parents waiting outside. Finally!

His father called out, swinging his arm: “Ready to go out into the woods, you three little rascals?”

“Of course not,” Nimue replied from the table, very earnest and very calm. “That would be incredibly foolish and reckless of us.”

“Well, I guess we’re all going to be incredibly foolish and reckless tonight,” his father rejoined.

"Are you joining us?" Galahad asked. He glanced at Gawain. "I thought we were sneaking out."

"We are," Gawain said. "With my parents."

Sure, that wasn't the intended plan, not from the start. They'd agreed they wouldn't be telling their parents, for various reasons. Gally's would have been nigh impossible to talk into allowing him on their nighttime adventure, though Merlin and his would have been amenable to it. Regardless, there was a thrill to the secrecy and sneaking about, of doing something they weren't supposed to do. A giddy rush, so much so that he couldn’t help but tell hjs parents all about it. They had countless tales of mischief that Gawain had raptly listened to. His stealthy enterprise echoed theirs. He couldn’t wait to have his own daring-do stories to share with them – that they could be proud of! So he blurted out everything, and his parents were eager to join.

Galahad didn’t look quite as excited, though. His shoulders drew taut round his neck. "Did you tell my parents?"

"Lance’s a good friend,” father said, “but not a good sport. So, no."

Galahad relaxed.

"That's why we need to be very sneaky," mother said, speaking in a hushed, conspiratorial tone. She held up one finger to her lips. Both Gawain and Nimue mirrored the gesture, exchanging glances and biting back smiles. “Alright, is everyone ready?”

They slipped on their boots, warm and thick-soled, then grabbed their cloaks and masks. The former they’d adorned with fallen leaves, a patchwork of blood-red, rusted-brown and fresh-green; they’d sown acorns and cones as shoulder pads. The masks they’d painted in the same autumn shades to match their cloaks and crowned with twigs, and felt fashioned in the shape of animal ears. His parents too had their own pair of masks, made the other night with Gawain’s aid.

Gawain’s mask was more green than brown or red. A verdant, summer green he found himself most drawn to when Nimue arrived with the paints. The boughs that sprung up from the frame were heavy with leaves and the ears peeking between them were small, rounded and fuzzy, much alike those of a bear cub. Underneath his cloak, he’d put on a lovely jerkin, cozy but elegant. If he were to meet a fae, he wanted to look his best.

They set off, making a show of slinking along less-trodden corridors and glancing round corners before rushing forward on tip-toes. They passed guards, but they barely batted an eye. Masked and cloaked as they were, it was far from a strange sight on equinox night. Many people dressed up like this – the fair itself brandished booths overflowing with various fae-like disguises – to parade about town, dance and drink and spook poor passer-byes who can’t so readily differentiate between the human and the magical when shadow and light play tricks on the eye.

Soon, they were out into the cool night, underneath a cloudless sky. Gawain craned his neck far back to catch the whole expense of twinkling stars, hundreds – thousands! - of little gems everywhere the eye could see, gauze-like strips of deep purple twining around them. There were planets, too, though he’d only seen those with Nimue, using the telescope in Merlin’s tower. He wondered if faeries could fly so high as to reach them.

As they made their way across the castle grounds, down the hill and towards the woods, there was but a subtle breeze rustling the trees and blowing at their capes. All in all, a wondrous night for an escapade.

Gawain had to keep watching his step. His impatient feet would lead him ahead of everyone else and he’d then have to run back to fall into step with them before repeating the process, again and again. Everyone moved so slow! He could see the treeline, beckoning, taunting, calling to him. He’d often found himself gazing longingly in its direction over the last week, counting down the days to the equinox. The fair in town and the feast in the Great Hall were great entertainment, but he kept thinking of the celebrations the fair folk would have. He’d read stories of the Deer King’s feast, held many years ago when his Hall’s doors opened to each and every who managed to find the place. Lord Merlin had traced their steps, long after it had fallen to decay, remaining but a ruin of the splendor it once was.

Gawain wished he could see it with his eyes.

Shadowy figures awaited them at the edge of the woods. Not faeries, but two dragons talking among themselves.

Ariawen and Callum greeted them, all dressed up in their masks and cloaks and necklaces of cones and acorns. There was a similar moment of confusion as there was for Nimue and Gally back in Gawain’s chamber upon his parents’ arrival. They were both fine with the additions – if anything, it seemed to him that Callum was quite relieved to have adults among their group. He’d been the most reluctant of them all on the plan even as Gawain reassured him that they’d be safe, especially having him by their side, with his sharp claws and fire breath.

Finally, they could set off into the woods.

The shadows were deeper and cooler between the trees, moonlight slipping only through slits, thin and silvery. His parents lighted torches and Nimue summoned a flame to the palm of her hand to guide the way. They kept to the well-trodden paths for the most part – they wanted to find fae, not get lost – and when they went off them, minded their step. Well, the others did, at the very least. Gawain found himself quickly lost in the mysterious scenery, scouring the darkness for any sign of a magical creature. Mistaking misshapen trunks and twisted boughs for strange figures, and the rustle of scurrying critters for otherworldly whispers. It was merely the fancy of his over-eager brain, seeking desperately for what he wished to find.

The most interesting thing he spotted was an owl. It was enough to exercise his imagination.

“Imagine,” he said to Gally, “that the owl was actually a fae, transformed! Watching us, stalking us.” He paused, boots crunching on the carpet of leaves. “Maybe it’d want humans to follow it to some magical place.”

A small, amused hum came from beneath the mask. “Sounds like the sort of story you’d love to write.”

“Indeed!”

They walked and walked, but nothing quite as exciting as the owl sighting happened. At some point, Gawain and Nimue had fallen at the back of the group, where they followed along to a chorus of dry leaves crushed underfoot.

She looped her arm around Gawain and leaned in close to whisper, “Your parents have been running us in circles.”

“What?”

“We’re not that far into the forest, just circling about,” she continued, sounding pleased with herself for having figured it out. “They're clever; and clearly afraid of what resides deeper in the woods.” She turned her face – and unreadable mask of green moss – to stare off into the deep, impenetrable darkness between the trees. If he had to guess, she had a longing spark in her eyes. He’d caught it there before, when she was looking out the window.

“But we’re not afraid of the fae, are we?”

“I’m not,” Nimue said. Amusement tinged her words, like he'd said something funny. “But you, are you still not? Now that we are into the night, into the forest, surrendered by creatures who can navigate far better than us with our human ears and human eyes? With senses not fit for this time, unlike the wolves that prowl in search of food? Are you not scared?”

Gawain wasn’t afraid, not as long as the fae were nice. He’d be mighty disappointed if he encountered a mean one. And even then, it’s not as if he was alone.

“No!” Gawain brightly replied. “I have you all by my side.”

“What a touching sentiment.”

The cool breeze carried a murmur of voices. Both snapped their heads in the direction of the sound. Gawain’s pulse quickened; his resolved steeled. With renewed enthusiasm, he bolted for the foliage, tugging Nimue along.

Behind, his mother called him back over. But Gawain couldn’t miss his one chance.

He and Nimue burst forth from the shrubbery, boots skittering on broken twigs, and came face to face with a group of–

–surprisingly mundane looking faeries.

“No luck yet,” Nimue said, stating the disappointing obvious.

The masked, robed figures spooked. They yelped and stumbled back, and one got so far as to dash away before another stopped them and reassured them, “They’re just children.”

And they were just a gaggle of Weaver’s apprentices, by the look of their clothes and brooches.

“Gawain,” his father broke through the bushes, “are you alright–Ah. We’re not the only ones in search of fae, are we?”

The group fretted and dithered to give an answer, many a whispering and elbowing taking place amongst them until they confessed and relented to his father’s offer to escort them out of the woods.

“It’s best we all retire for the night,” his mother said as they guided them all, “with a warm tea and good spook story to tell later, hmm?”

Her tone was encouraging, but Gawain couldn’t help the pit of disappointment carving itself in his chest. He fiddled with the edge of his cloak, pulling and swishing it around himself, shoulders rising and falling with heavy sighs every now and then.

“Disappointing night?” Nimue asked, knowingly.

“Yes! I shouldn’t have got my hopes so high, but the woods always look so mysterious on nights like these. Well, more than they usually do. I thought...I don’t know what I thought,” he finished, slumping forward, leaning his weigh on Nimue with yet another sigh to punctuate his words.

She halted, then turned him around to face her. She was still wearing her mask, patched with bits of moss and pressed flowers. She’d painted the area around her eyes black so that their green would stand out – and stand out they did, glinting like gems in the flame summoned from her palm.

“Gawain,” she said, “Am I fae enough for you?”

He chortled. “You are! Though,” a teasing smile pulled at his lips, “your father’s even more fae.”

“Yet my father won’t party with you in the forest, like you wanted to.” She twined her fingers with his, raised her arm and twirled him underneath. Gawain giggled.

“Watch this.”

With a sweeping gesture, she sent all the fallen leaves in a whirlwind – dancing and spinning around them.

Tonight wasn’t such a disappointment, after all.