Gareth Ransome

I remember back, before once upon a time, a time before stories:

There was a young girl, as beautiful as the moon as a cloudless night. So beautiful that the sun looked forward to seeing her every morning and the stars every evening. Her name was Blossom and she lived with her father who doted on her every whim and loved her like she was the only woman in his life for he had no wife -she had died in childbirth.

Together they lived on the outskirts of a small village by the edge of a deep, dark forest. There were parts of the forest where it was as black as night and where the trees were so close together you would suffocate. There was a path that led right through the forest, but if you strayed from it you would not be seen again.

Now in the middle of the forest, in a small clearing, there lived Blossoms grandmother who also doted on her grandchild -though she was no longer such a child- so much so that she knitted Blossom a beautiful cloak with a hood that was as white as winter, so when the snows came Blossom could play hiding games with the boys and she could not be found unless she wanted to be found.

Blossom visited her whenever she could, but her grandmother was becoming very old and ill, and sometimes it would be days before Blossom would see her.

On this particular day, a whole week had gone by and Blossom had missed her so. Her father finally agreed to let Blossom go and visit, for it was cold as ice out there - colder - and the snow was thick on the ground, and the father loved Blossom so much he did not want to see her chilled.

But he eventually gave in, not wanting to deny her anything, and he gave her some honey and jam to take to her grandmother.

"Stay on the path, don't stop for anyone and don't talk to anyone either." He said.

Off Blossom went in her white cape, hood over her head, not feeling the cold, trudging through the snow, and it wasn't long before she forgot the wise words of her father.

Even though the forest floor was a carpet of white, there were still flowers pushing their heads through the snow, trying desperately to reach the sun. Blossom thought that they looked so pretty that she knelt down to pick them.

As she did so she caught the eyes of a wolf who had followed her since she had left the hut. He had wanted to eat her up as soon as he caught sight of her, but knew that her screams would have alerted the village. Besides, he knew that there were other appetites that were to be sated first, and she was so beautiful - some things had to be savoured.

"Good morning to you, dear, dear Blossom. How are you today, on this fine, but cold morn?"

Now Blossom feared nothing and no one, knew not of the wolfs lechery or hidden desires -had she done, she would surely run home as fast as she could. No, she had forgotten the sage words that her father had told her, and replied:

"Do I know you, Mr Wolf? For you certainly seem to know me, and my memory ‘members you not!"

"We have never been formally introduced, but I have often watched you from afar, admiring your beauty. Pray tell me, dear Blossom, what are you doing so far from your village on this cold day. Your father will be missing you. He pines after you so." And with that he smiled his lecherous smile baring his yellow teeth and fetid breath.

"I am on my way to visit my poor grandmother, who is very ill. I have not seen her for so long that I fear I have forgotten what she looks like." Blossom said, still unafraid.

"Yes, yes. Poor dear. I have heard that she is ill. I should visit her too and pay her my respects too." The wolf replied.

"And how, pray tell, do you know of my grandmother and her illness?" Blossom asked, tentatively.

"I know of your grandmother and have known of her since before you were born, dear Blossom." The wolf confidently stated, and then, almost thoughtfully, added,

"Why do we not visit her together? I know of a shortcut through the forest that will take us there in half the time."

Blossom was quite shocked by this and remembered what her father had said and said,

"No! Do you not know that it is dangerous to stray from the path?"

"I have not heard such rubbish in all of my life, and I am nearly twice your age!" He boasted. "I have always wandered through the forest as I see fit, and have never come to any harm. Though if you insist on entertaining such a belief I propose a wager to show you the error of your ways."

"A wager?" Blossom was intrigued by this and her eyes sparkled with delight at such a proposition.

"Yes, I wager whatever is in that basket that I will get to your grandmothers house before you."

"And if I am first and beat you, what do I win?" Blossom asked?

"Your hearts desire, no less." Replied the wolf.

"Very well. I accept." Said Blossom. And with that the wolf ran away with a shout of glee, into the woods as fast as his four legs could take him -he knew that the race was easily run.

Of course the wolf reached the grandmother first, as he knew he would. But when he knocked on her door he wore two feet not four. He knocked three times -Knock knock knock.

"Who is it?" Asked the grandmother, all frail voice and tainted by infirmity.

"It is I," said the wolf in a near perfect mimicry of Blossoms voice, "Your granddaughter, come to bring you honey and jam."

"Lift up the latch and come walk in." The grandmother said, and the wolf walked in, still standing upright.

"Oh, it's you." Remarked the grandmother. "I thought it was Blossom. Step closer, child, so I can see you." And the wolf did so, suppressing his hungry grin. "Come, child, and give me a kiss." To which the wolf said,

"Gladly!" And leapt upon the grandmother, devouring her in one -apart from the shock of her hair for his kind can not stomach hair.

Blossom was still on the path. She knew that she could not hope to beat the wolf, yet she ran on still -occasionally stopping to pick some flowers that were sheltered from the snow.

Less than a mile from her grandmothers cottage she came across a huntsman.

"Have you seen a wolf on your travels, miss?" The huntsman asked. "He's a particularly wily and cunning one, dangerous too. He's been seen around these parts for years, but no one has ever been able to catch him. Have you seen him, miss?"

"No, I haven't." Lied Blossom for she did not believe that such a creature could be dangerous and did not want the wolf to die because of her. She bade the huntsman goodbye and ran on to the cottage.

The huntsman though it strange that such a girl would be so far from the village on such a cold day, and running in such a way, that he decided to follow her. He always kept her within earshot, though he was always out of her sight.

Blossom finally made it to her grandmothers cottage and knocked three times on the door. Knock knock knock.

"Who is it?" Asked the wolf, now mimicking the grandmothers voice, wearing her shawl and bonnet and tucked up snuggly in bed, waiting, waiting.

"It is I, your granddaughter with some honey and jam." Blossom said, innocent of what had happened.

"Lift up the latch and walk right in." Said the wolf. So great was the mimicry of the wolf that Blossom had not the faintest idea that her grandmother was no more.

It was so dark in the cottage, the only light coming from the slow crackle of the dying fire. Blossom walked in, not sensing there was anything wrong.

"Put the basked on the chair and walk over to the fire so I can see you, my dear." Said the wolf, his stomach growling in anticipation.

Blossom did as she was told and placed the basket on the chair, and walked over to the fire, and started warming her hands.

"What will you have me do now, gran?"

"Undress and get into bed with me, my dear." Said the wolf, careful to hide his desires.

"What shall I do with my dress?" Asked Blossom.

"Throw it into the fire, we shan't be needing it anymore." And Blossom did so. For each garment -petticoat, bodice and stockings- she asked the same question, and always the wolf gave the same answer.

"Throw it in the fire, we shan't be needing it anymore."

‘Till at last she was only dressed in her white cloak which caught the light of the fire and sparkled.

"Shall I throw this into the fire also?" She asked.

"No." Said the wolf, rubbing his hands under the bedclothes. "Keep it on and come to bed, my child."

And Blossom did as she was told for she loved her grandmother so much and knew not what was about to happen. The first thing she noticed:

"Gran! How hairy and big your arms are!"

"All the better to hold you with my dear." Replied the wolf. And as Blossom caught the glint in the wolfs eye -the second thing she noticed:

"Gran! How big and green your eyes are!"

"All the better to gaze at your beauty, my dear." And the wolf grinned his lecherous grin, and licked his lips, showing off his yellow teeth and fetid breath. And almost in a gasp, the third thing Blossom noticed:

"Lord! How large your mouth is!"

"All the better to kiss you with!" And he launched himself on her, ripping her cloak open. Blossom screamed for the first time in her life.

The huntsman heard this scream and burst through the door, and threw the wolf to the wall far away from Blossom. But the damage had been done.

Blossom ran out of the cottage into the snow and tried to wash herself clean. Her cloak of purest white was no longer. It was now stained with red, and soon the snow around where she lay was as crimson as her hood. The huntsman found her in the snow and handed her his coat, though he could no longer look her in the eye.

"He escaped. When I cut this off of him, it was a paw. The paw of a wolf. You were there. He was a wolf and I cut this off of him. Tell me why, then. Tell me because I swear I do not understand why I am holding this!" And he threw a hand into Blossoms lap, a human hand, a bloody stump where it had once been attatched to an arm -further it was a hand that she recognised.

Scared for her sanity she threw off the huntsman and ran as if the very devil was on her tail. She had to know, she could not believe what her eyes were telling her, what she was holding in her hand. The huntsman did not know the path as well as she, but he followed the bloody trail that the wolf left behind him.

Blossom rushed home as quickly as she could, almost hysterical with fear for herself and for her father. When she got to the hut where the both lived, she saw the window to the door smashed and the door was off the latch. She bolted through the door screaming for her father, not noticing the trail of blood that led through the door from the forest beyond.

She ran into her fathers room and screamed at the sight that met her terrified eyes. The room had been turned upside down. The bed smashed, all the drawers had been ripped out and the clothes ripped into shreds on the floor. There were streams and splashes of blood everywhere. And there in the corner, lying like a broken heap on the floor was her father clutching the bloody stump of his arm, where his hand used to be.

In days past, where there was just The Village and nowhere else mattered, there lived a boy who was on the brink of manhood -his name was Aflet, which meant "fleet of foot" in the native tongue. He had the look of a man in ever way save the depth of his eyes, which betrayed his age. One look in his eyes and it would be plain that he was but a child still -and the downy stubble on his chin, his long sleek golden hair could do nothing to dissuade that.

Aflet lived with his father and two brothers on the outskirts of the village overlooking the forest, which surrounded the village save for a wide road which was the only way in or out of it.

All the villagers knew that Aflet was coming of age and in five days there would be a huge celebration, and preparations were being made. The villagers all knew each other and their own business -it was a tight knit community, even before the word was even in use. The village pulled together as one. But Aflet kept, by the large, took his own council -no one asked his opinion and he asked no one for theirs -and in amongst all the celebrations for his coming of age he was the only one who was not enjoying the festivities. He saw no reason for the party -for him growing up meant the death of childhood and a farewell to the days of innocence and happiness. Adults had lost the spark behind their eyes and all the parties and enthusiasm seemed like a sham to him, nothing but play acting. Aflet didn't want to grow up -he wanted to stay a child.

So on this first day of celebration he found himself walking away from the village centre and headed into the forest on the east side of the village. Now, children were not allowed to wander into the east side of the forest as these were the times when the Faire Folke lived (This was before all the Faire Doors were sealed and the Faire Folke departed the land) and many imps and sprites had much use for the innocence and magic that lay inherent in a childs eye and soul. But Aflet cared little for that -he didn't believe in the Faire Folke and thought them to be a tool to frighten children into obeying adults.

Finding himself a log to sit on in a secluded part of the forest Aflet whittled on a chunk of wood that he found, with his small pocket knife. So intent on his whittling was he that the girl approached him, sat down next to him without him moving so much as a muscle.

"I thought that all villagers had keen hearing and honed senses," The girl said, her tone slightly mocking, "but here I am sitting right next to you and you never even heard me approach." Aflet barely looked up as she said all this. He was not yet a man and cared not for the girls of his village. He certainly didn't see them as potential mates nor did he feel any stirrings towards them. So her slinking, shining hair -golden in the glow of the morning sun- barely registered with him, not did the floating blue of her eyes -deep in Fairey passion- stir anything in him. Nor her cherry lips and inviting breasts that promised more than he could ever imagine -he was oblivious to all of this, so intent was he on his whittling.

"I heard you but chose to ignore you. I knew you would not hurt me -could not hurt me, that is. If you had tried then you would have found out why they call me Aflet." At this he looked up at the girl before carrying on with his whittling.

"Ah - I see. So you think that you're fleet of foot, do you? Could you, say, outrun a deer?"

"No," He replied, "but I can carve one." And he held up the most exquisite carving of a stag, standing proud with regal antlers. The girl commended him on his carving and asked if she could hold it. "If you wish." Aflet replied and handed it to her. When she took it their fingers touched for the briefest of seconds, but it seemed like an eternity to him. Something changed in him, and he spoke as if seeing her for the first time. "Who are you?"

"I am one that knows what flutters in the human heart, and rides the waves of passion of the tide that forever turns." She said, all the time caressing the carving of the deer with slow lavacious strokes, never taking her eyes from his. "My name is Nimè and I am one of the Fairey"

"I don't believe in the Faire Folke." Aflet said, feeling a stirring deep within himself -he had never faced emotions like this before and didn't know what to say or do.

"Ah, but it's enough that we believe in you, dear Aflet. Tell me," She paused, taking a slow breath -Aflet hung on every second, "Do you like deer? You have crafted such an exquisite likeness that belies a passion that is rarely seen in mortals."

"I love deer -I sometimes wish that I could run with them through the forests, that one day I will run so fast I will turn into one."

"That may happen," Nimè replied, "But you must want it with all your very being. You must give of yourself freely and totally for that to happen. And I am not sure that you really want that for yourself."

"Are you saying that I could do that? That if I ran fast enough I could become a deer and leave my adulthood behind?"

"You have no adulthood to leave behind, young Aflet." Nimè handed the deer back to Aflet and put her hand on his. "You are on the cusp of becoming a man and have nothing to lose, except your childhood -you know this to be true. You know that the adults lie to you, they want you to become like them -dead inside- whilst I want to free you, for you to become like me; alive and one with the wind. I can grant you what your heart desires and all that is asked of you is that you want it more than anything. Do not answer me now, you must think on it. Think long and hard because once lost, you will never become a human again -you will become like me for all eternity. You must think on it and come back here on the night that you become a man."

"But there is a party which is being arranged for me." Aflet protested weakly.

"A party that you do not even want to attend -is that not right, Aflet." Aflet shook his head. "If you still wish to run with the deer and be with me then you will meet me here at sunset five days from now."

"But I want to run with you now." Aflet said, his words leaving his lips before he had even realised what he had said.

"Aflet - learn patience. You must be patient if you want to be a man." Nimè said this in a mocking tone but Aflet was oblivious to this. "Everything has to be right for this to happen -your birth-signs must be in conjunction, and they will be that night. Meet me here when the moon is full on the night of your celebration -then we will be together. But in the meantime, wear this, my true one. This will be a token of our love, and all the time you are wearing this I will not be far away." Aflet felt Nimè stand up and put a gold necklace over his head before she walked away from him. He was alone once again and could only wonder how he was going to fill the next five days.

The time went so slow for Aflet. Five tortuous days crawled past minute by arthritic minute. With every waking hour his thoughts were with Nimè, and by night he dreamt of her - running with her through the forests, naked like the wild. Every time he missed her he would finger his necklace and count down the seconds until they could be together.

He became even less sociable and wanted nothing to do with the other villagers, spending more time in the forest where he had met Nimè in the hope that he would see her again -but this never happened.

None of this went unnoticed by Aflets parents, nor the other villagers. They had noticed the change in Aflet and seen the new necklace that he now wore and fondled frequently - and on the last day of the festival week they finally confronted him -they knew the signs. Aflet was bewitched, and once confronted he denied nothing -it was well known that he did not want to be initiated into manhood but it did come as a surprise that he had surrendered so willingly to Nimès charms.

There was talk to postpone the celebrations until after Aflet had been initiated and until that time he was to be kept under constant watch. The initiation had to take place -the celebration could wait. When it was finally agreed upon Aflet was led back to his home to be kept under strict guard for his own protection until after the initiation -only then would he be safe from the Faire magick.

By some quirk of fate Aflets bedroom took its view over the east side of the forest -he knew that he only had to make a dash for it and he would be with his beloved- however, he was watched closely by his father and older brother. His younger brother, on the other hand, did not understand what was being done, and believed that Aflet was being punished for something; and it was to this that Aflet played to. He would secretly call to his brother Boltur through his bedroom wall. Boltur had a room next door and Aflet talked to him through the wall, and after much gentle persuasion Boltur agreed to help Aflet to escape -not realising the consequences of his actions. Boltur was able to distract his father long enough to allow Aflet to climb out of his bedroom window and run to the forest to be with his Nimè.

Sure enough, she was there waiting for him. On his approach she opened her arms and herself to him, and they became one in animal heat and love.

It was at this time that Aflets father and brother realised that he was no longer under guard, and with horror they knew where he would surely be and prayed as they ran that they would be in time to save him.

When they finally caught up with Aflet they found him naked, embracing a fallow doe as if they were lovers -for in truth they were. The doe immediately bolted, glancing back at Aflet as she ran -an understanding passed between them, and he turned to his kin and faced them. The Aflet whom they had grown up with was gone - the man that stood up in front of them was no longer mortal. There was an otherness in his eyes that spoke of foreign lands and magicks that they would never know.

"You are too late." He said, his voice now deep and booming.

"Come back to us." His father said to him, his arm outstretched.

"There is still time for initiation - we can undo what has been done to you." His brother implored.

"I do not want initiation, oh my brother. I have never wanted initiation. Nimè has given me my hearts desire -to run with her, to be one with her."

"Come back with us, brother -please." His brother begged now, fear trembling in his voice.

"No - I stayed here to fare you well - to say good bye to my mortality. Do not try and follow me - this is what I want. This is what I have always wanted." And with that Aflet turned and ran. He ran as he had never done before -he could see Nimè as clear as the morning dew even though she was far in the distance, waiting for him. His eyes were so much more powerful now, his hearing acute and his sense of smell keener than ever. As he ran he could feel his body start to shift and change. Soon he was running on four legs, a full set of antlers growing like a crown.

His brother and father could only watch as the transformation was complete. Far in the distance, at the other end of the forest, stood two roe deer - one doe and one magnificent stag. Around the neck of the stag a golden necklace glinted in the evening sunset, and with that the deer ran off.