Speaking from Experience

"Take care when wandering the woods," my mother would warn. "Look closely and you may find what first appeared as a fallen branch is actually one of Enalia's Great Roots!"

"Yes, mother," I would respond, intently, reassuring her I would, of course, watch where I stepped.

But even when I did happen upon a larger-than-average tree root like a burly arm lying on the forest floor, it seemed to care little whether I walked around it, climbed over it or brought my full weight down upon it.

Though my mother's stories of wonder and woe spark the imagination, I've often found them to be as fantastical as her tales of fairies appearing in The Misty Woods.

It wasn't until years later I realized my mother's warnings should not have been taken lightly; when I found myself hopelessly lost in a forest, well off the beaten path.

My typical journey into town only ever involved a short trek through nearby Brambleberry Wood. In the past, I'd always elected to make the trip in the afternoon. Few are brave enough to venture there after dark.

My chores kept me busy that day, so I left later than usual. Regardless, it began as any normal, peaceful walk would. But, after a few minutes, something caught my eye.

Protruding from the forest canopy was a root structure so large I imagined myself walking its spiral like a bridge to the sky. Feeling its mysterious allure, I carelessly left the path for a closer inspection. This must be it, I thought.

I could lay my hands on a root and feel its magic. But, after a couple steps, a cold shiver ran down my spine. Something changed. I turned and my heart sank. The road was gone!

Without thinking, I called out: "Is anyone there?" I turned back to look up at the root again, but it, too, had vanished. At that point I didn't know what to do. My idle curiosity had isolated me. Cursed me, even. Dread and uncertainty began to invade my mind. I've never felt so alone.

I wandered for what felt like hours, trying desperately to retrace my steps; foliage closing in around me as night fell. My legs ached from my endless, futile searching.

Exhausted from panicked wandering, I lay down on the ground and shut my eyes. The fear of what forest danger lurked was quickly drowned by sleep.

Only then did I awaken, safe in my bed, saved from my involuntary solitude. Had it all been a dream?

All I remember now is waking up at home. Along with a nagging sensation I'd been cast out; almost as if the forest contemplated consuming me, but decided against it.

I think about that day often, and how my own encounter lends credence to my mother's warnings about the dangers lurking just outside your door.

And I suspect she, too, spoke from experience...