An Errant Child And Woodland Gossip

20251218

Written for Luna Asli Kolcu’s “Myths of Winter - Week 3” event.

Everyone respected how Noel’s family were clinging to hope that their child might be found. But the rest of the village had mentally buried him. After all, three days had passed, and while in warm weather a child might survive the woods that long if they were careful and sensible (though, in that case, why would they have gone into the woods?), in the depths of winter, with snow covering the ground and beasts at their hungriest, the poor, foolish child would be frozen and picked clean by now.
Very sad. Other families took pains to lecture their children on how this was what happened to you, if you didn’t heed all the warnings.
And then, on the dawn of the fourth day, Noel knocked on his family’s door. Just as hale as when he left. Dutifully penitent, yet utterly uncowed. If you hadn’t been witness to the frantic searching you might assume he’d simply indulged in a muddy play session.
Naturally his parents were delighted and relieved. But even they recognised that something was amiss. That any child who had survived the woods, or even outside the village, through three winter nights would be worn down and in desperate condition. Famished, and near frozen, and likely ill or injured or both.
So Noel was given a clean set of clothes and a good breakfast, then taken to the Wizem.
She inspected him closely for signs of a skin-snatcher, but neither she nor his parents found the tell-tale line of dark stitches.
His gums didn’t look green, and when pricked bled cleanly, so he wasn’t carrying gnawer eggs.
His pupils were normal and reacted to light, so a rider hadn’t slipped in.
In fact, he didn’t seem to have fallen victim to any of the forest’s denizens. Which troubled the Wizem deeply, for she couldn’t see how it was possible; and that meant there were forces involved she did not know of and couldn’t guard the village against.
So she questioned the child directly. What had happened, after he wandered into the forest?
Noel shrugged and said he hadn’t gotten very far - just enough to be certain that no other child would dare come take his flag, letting him win the game by default. But once he’d found a good spot and planted the flag he couldn’t find his way back. No matter how carefully he followed the trail of footprints he’d left, he found himself back at that spot.
Ah, yes. The Wizem sucked at her tooth and nodded gravely. A common trick of the forest.
When it started getting dark Noel was frightened, and decided rather than risk getting further lost he’d better stay where he was, in the hope his family would be able to follow the steps and find him - and that then they’d all be able to get out again.
Everyone praised him for this, though the Wizem warned him that his family would likely have found that following his footprints into the forest simply led them back out again. As it was, fresh snow had covered them entirely.
“Well,” Noel said, “it didn’t matter. Because after the sun set a door opened in one of the big trees, and a figure wrapped in bark invited me in to warm up.”
“You accepted?” The Wizem sucked her teeth again.
“It was cold! And dark, and scary, and they seemed nice. And they were. They gave me tea made with some dry berries which warmed me right up, and herby pottage. And they told me all sorts of gossip to pass the time.”
Gossip? What about?
“All sorts.” Noel’s pose - slumped on the bench, legs idly swinging, fingers picking at a loose patch on his trews - was entirely childlike. But his smile wasn’t. It was sharp, and cold, and sly. It didn’t belong on such a young, innocent face. “You would’ve had a baby, but you drank a tea to make it go away. Didn’t wanna get in trouble, what with the da being married to your best friend.”
The Wizem froze, her expression of wary concern drowned in horror.
“And that’s why you ‘prenticed under the old Wizem.” Noel continued, his voice nonchalant and disinterested. Ignoring how his parents were gawping. “To thank her. And to learn how to make that tea. Which’s better than Nancy - she didn’t dare talk to anyone about it, just waited til the baby was born and drowned it. Its soul haunts the riverbank, just past the millpond.”
The Wizem took a deep breath. “Child-”
“And Rob, he said his wife got snatched by a beast at the edge of the forest, but he hit her in the head with a rock and left her there. And-”
“Enough!” The Wizem leant forward with a fearsome frown. “Child, this creature has filled your head with sickly lies in hopes of filling your soul with wickedness. You should forget all the nonsense it said.”
Noel gave her the kind of sideways glance which only a small child facing a righteous adult can conjure. But said nothing.
“Let us arrange a blessing, and hope that drives away the influence. And you-” the Wizem turned to Noel’s parents, who were anxious and apologetic, “-must keep a close eye on him. And make sure he doesn’t spread any of these lies, lest wickedness take root.”
They both nodded and murmured earnest reassurance.
Noel kicked his heels against the floor and smiled to himself. His lips still tasted of sweet berries. And the smile they formed did not belong on a child’s face.

Prompt was “A child returns to a village after being lost in the winter woods for three days. They’re fine. Healthy. Happy, even. But they know things now. Things about the villagers. Things no child should know.”