The Music Box: Chapter Fifty-Four

Isabelle felt her soft footfall lightly crunch on fallen twigs and drying pine needles, smelling the cool air of the approaching evening. She would need to be back to the shelter she had made herself fairly soon, the electric smell of an approaching storm was tickling her nose. To her left and right the forest appeared an impenetrable tangle, growing in a calculated disorder intended to discourage wayward wandering. The path along which she travelled would not have appeared to almost anybody else to be that, but Isabelle had been here long enough to recognise the telltale, if slight, signs that others had been this way. Small animals mostly, but occasionally a larger creature; man-sized but not walking on two legs as she was now.

She understood that she was looking for something, but wasn’t sure what that might be. She wasn’t retracing her steps, of that she seemed certain, yet the feeling that she would know what it was when she found it was strong.

Isabelle felt an unnerving sense of being watched. She carefully looked around as she went, trying to appear nonchalant, but nothing caught her eye that betrayed the presence of anyone but herself. She was unable to shake the feeling, but was determined not to let the rising fear take hold. She had lived here before, she reminded herself, was familiar with its risks and dramas, and had met and faced them all.

Reaching a huge grey tree, its gnarled branches twisting to the sky like witch’s fingers, thick, coarse bark cracked like a the mud in a dry creek bed, Isabelle stopped. There appeared to be a fork in the path, the choice of which way to follow weighing surprisingly heavily on her, as though a momentous moment was resting on such a seemingly simple decision.

Once she chose one there was no going back. That much she knew. Unsure of what it was for which she was searching – but increasingly certain that it would be found, for better or for worse – Isabelle took a deep breath and looked up at the tree for any sign it might be trying to send. After a long moment, its uppermost branches began to stir, although there was very little breeze in the cooling air. The stirring grew into a twisting, tangling dance, the uppermost branches waving and turning with enchanting grace.

The few tenacious leaves that hung on to the occasional branch held on for dear life, although one that must have been surprised by the sudden activity, caught napping, fell from its previously stable perch. It began a slow flutter towards the forest floor, tracing a diminishing parabola as it fell. Instinctively, Isabelle put out her hand as it neared. The leaf settled neatly into her small cupped hand, a brittle aged leaf alighting like the ghost trace of an ancient butterfly.

Closing her fingers gently over the top of the leaf, Isabelle felt it tickle her palm. She opened her hand again and jumped as the leaf unfurled – it really was a butterfly! But not like any she had ever seen before – a grey-green colour when it had first landed on her palm, it was now a deep blue, the inky near-purple of twilight after a particularly warm summer’s day. It hovered in front of her, darting in small, dashing sweeps in a vaguely circular arc, then took off past the tree, darting to its left. Isabelle hesitated, but seeing the butterfly loop back towards her and head back down the path again – now a crimson flash in the shadowy late afternoon, she followed.

Isabelle had made up her mind to head the other way, but felt compelled to follow, taking it as a sign – of what, she had no idea, but it was too late to go back now.

She followed into a part of the forest she could not recall ever having seen. She had made it her own during her stay, explored what she had thought at the time was every twist and turn, every nook and cranny, so was surprised to be so disoriented.

It was growing cooler as she went on – the sun had dipped over the horizon some time ago and the brush here was quite thick and damp. Every now and then she lost sight of her guide, but just as soon as she was certain it had gone too far to keep up with, she caught another glimpse. Now that it was quite dark it seemed to have a glow of its own, a gently pulsating yellow light flickering with each beating of the wings.

She followed it until it reached a bend in the path that opened out onto a river. Wide and swift-flowing, there was a silvery-sheen on the surface of the water where the break in the forest canopy allowed the full moon to shine. Isabelle watched as the butterfly travelled halfway across the river, soared vertically, then exploded into a million tiny stars that scattered over the water in a blaze of light and colour, then vanished.

Without a second thought Isabelle drew a deep breath and plunged into the river.