Seriously?

SERIOUSLY?

”’Go in the woods,’ they said. ‘It’ll be fine,’ they said. ‘Everybody loves the woods’ they said. ‘The woods are safe’ they said. “ ‘GG will be so happy to see you’ they said.”

I shook my head at the absurdity of my situation.

“I’m sure GG would love to see me, and I’d love to see her as well, IF I DIDN’T DIE OF EXPOSURE!”

Yes, I was talking to myself, out loud. And yes, I was in the woods.

But I was definitely not happy about the situation. It was pouring down rain. I was soaked through to the bone. And I was pretty sure I was lost—really, really lost. Not I-turned-left-when-I-should-have-turned-right, lost, Amelia Earhart lost.

The path (if it really was a path) was muddy, flooded, water sloshing with every step. My shoes were soaked, and my feet were frozen.

I promised myself that if I managed to get out of this god-forsaken thicket of despair, I was going to have a long and meaningful discussion with my parents about what constitutes an acceptable expectation.

Tramping through mud and water up to my ankles was not an acceptable expectation. Nor was the expectation that I was some sort of personal delivery service for them. “GG would love to see you. And if you’re going that way, could you drop this basket off?”

I was not UPS.

I was soaked, and angry. It had started raining the second I stepped into the forest. I literally took two steps in and it started to bucket. It was almost as if the weather gods had been waiting for me to enter the forest to assault me with wind, rain, and sleet. I was drenched almost immediately. The winds whipped up, driving the cold rain into my face. It was like a weather tsunami.

”It’s easy,” my mom had said. “Just follow the trail,” I grumbled, looking around.

Sure, except THERE WAS NO TRAIL! It had gotten fainter and fainter until it disappeared. Or was washed away in the torrential rain storm I was experiencing! Or was under Lake Forest Path!

“Stupid forest. Stupid weather,” I grumbled, clomping along, splashing through puddles, head down, trying to keep the rain and sleet off my face.

I looked around, trying to figure out exactly where I was.

There were some trees. And some more trees. And oh, look, more trees. How was I supposed to find the house? Just wander around until I bumped into it?

“I HATE THIS!” I screamed at the sky. My reward was a face full of sleet and rain.

I pulled out my cell phone and looked at the screen. Of course I had no bars. I was in the middle of the frickin’ forest! There are no cell towers in the forest. Still I held it up over my head, twirling around in circles—like I could magically grab some bars. Nothing. Just a face full of weather. I brought the phone down and wiped it off, and put it back in my pocket.

A thick fog had risen, creating a sopping wet, gauzey landscape. Even if I did know where I was, it didn’t matter because I COULDN’T SEE A THING THROUGH THE FOG!

I was lost, freezing, and soaking wet. My cloak—which was, of course, wool, and not waterproof—weighed a sopping tonne. The wind picked up and blew the hood off of my head. The only reason I noticed was because the rain was dripping down my face, and the sleet pellets were freezing my hair, making it crispy to the touch. I grabbed my hood and pulled it back up, but instead of giving me protection from the weather, a cold river of rainwater sluiced down my back, making me yip in surprise.

”Stupid hood!” I yelled, stomping my foot.

I trudged forward, splashing through the puddles, mud sucking at my shoes.

I so hate the forest.

What if I didn’t make it to GG’s house? Would anyone come looking for me? Probably not. Why would they? They wouldn’t be able to see any more than I could. I’d have to wait for the weather to clear. UNLESS I DIED OF EXPOSURE before anyone found me.

What if it got dark before I got to GG’s house? I could die out here! The woods weren’t safe at night. There were human dangers—criminals and travellers. But there were also animals—wolves, cougars, bears, even wolverines and badgers. Any one of them would love to eat me up.

I shivered, not from the cold this time, but from the idea that I was going to be some carnivore’s next meal. I hunkered down in my cloak and kept trudging forward.

“Hey, kid! You lost?””

I whirled around. There, walking out of the fog, right behind me were three bears—a great huge bear, a middle sized bear, and a little, small, wee bear. The great huge bear smiled.

I took a step backwards.

He laughed. “We’re not going to eat you.”

I wasn’t so sure. Were bears trustworthy?

The middle sized bear spoke up. “No dear, we’re just out for a stroll.”

I was skeptical. “In this storm?” I asked. I didn’t think the weather was fit for man nor beast, but apparently these three bears had no problem with it. I pushed my streaming hair off of my face.

The little, small, wee bear giggled. “I love the rain! And the fog! Mama and Papa always walk with me—even in the rain—so I don’t get lost.”

”Uh huh,” I said, taking another step backwards.

The great huge bear put up his giant paw, like he was trying to calm a wild horse. “We didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that you look, well, lost. We’ve lived in this forest forever, so we thought maybe we could help you get to wherever you’re going.” He smiled again. I would have felt soothed, except for the three inch incisors that were visible.

”Uh, I’m looking for Arlene Hood’s cottage. I’m pretty sure I’m lost.”

“Oh yes!” said the middle sized bear. “You are lost! Arlene’s cottage is quite a distance from here.”

I felt my shoulders slump. “How far is ‘quite a distance?’” I asked.

“Well,” said the great huge bear, rubbing his chin with his great huge paw. I noticed the razor sharp three inch claws, and gulped. “If you walk towards our house, then turn south on the path, then a quick right, you should be there in about an hour.

“An hour!?” The whole walk-in-the-woods fiasco was supposed to take like twenty minutes, max.

This sucked!

I was well and truly lost. And a little—no a lot—pissed off at the whole thing.

”We’re heading home right now, if you want to follow.”

I said thanks, and followed them through the forest. I figured I was pretty safe—if they wanted to eat me, they would have by done it by now, right? Unless of course they wanted to get me closer to their home, so they wouldn’t have to drag my carcass through the forest. I slowed, allowing a bit more distance between me and the bears.

The little, small, wee bear fell back to walk with me. The description of little, small, wee bear was relative. Compared to his parents, sure, he was pretty small—like a baby bear. But he was almost as tall as me, and also had those big-ass incisors his father hand when he smiled.

”What’s in the basket?” he asked, his nose twitching.

I shrugged. “Stuff. Food.” I looked inside for the first time. “Cookies, cake, bread, honey, butter. Stuff for GG.”

“It smells de-licious!” he said, liking his lips. He turned to look at me. “We have porridge back at our cottage. I’ll trade you some of Momma’s award winning porridge for some honey.” He paused. “Bears love honey.” He smiled, again showing me his teeth.

I cringed, fixating my gaze on his incisors and shook my head. “No can do, buddy. It’s not mine to give away.”

The little, small, wee bear started to cry. “I looooovvvvve honey! I want some honey!” He stomped his rear paw in full tantrum mode.

The great, huge bear, stopped and turned around. “You have honey?”

Oh-oh. “Yes,” I squeaked. “But it’s not mine. It’s for GG—Arlene Hood.”

“Reginald!” snapped the medium sized bear. “Leave the poor girl alone!”

”But, it’s honey!” said the great huge bear, aka Reginald, his eyes glittering. “We haven’t had honey for so long!”

“I want honey! I want it! I want it! I want it!” bleated the little, wee, small bear.

This was getting out of hand. “Uh, thanks for the directions,” I said, moving away from the three bears, and turning to go deeper in the forest, away from them.

The medium size bear called out, “You’re going the wrong way, dear,” and pointed in the opposite direction. I thanked her and headed that way, anxious to get away. I could feel the great huge bear’s eyes on my back and I could still hear the little, wee, small bear wailing about wanting honey NOW!

I trudged on. The weather had not improved. If anything, it had gotten colder. I couldn’t feel my fingers. I was so cold that I was worried that I would drop the basket, so I moved it up to my elbow, and flexed my fingers, trying to get the circulation going so I hopefully wouldn’t get frostbite and have to have them amputated.

“I HATE THE FOREST” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

No reply. But, seriously, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it yelled back, “I HATE YOU TOO.”

Splish, splash, squelch, shlorp, slop.

I kept walking, slowly, because the mud slowed me down—too fast and I would have for sure I lost a boot.

Then I heard it.

”Hi ho! Hi ho! It’s off to work we go!”

Singing. In the forest. In the middle of a storm.

Then I saw them marching out of the fog. Dwarfs. Seven of them. Walking in a line. Singing. Then they saw me. The lead dwarf stopped so suddenly that the others crashed into his back and then each other. They almost fell into the mud. It would have been funny any other time.

We stood there, looking at each other.

”Hello,” said the lead dwarf.

”Hey,” I replied back, wondering what in the holy hell was going on in this forest.

”I am Doc, and these are my compatriots Grumpy, Happy, Sneezy, Bashful, Sleepy, and Dopey.” He pointed to each of his compatriots in turn, each waving at me. “We are off to work in the mine.”

“Cool,” I said.

Doc looked me up and down. “We used to have a lovely woman who lived with us, but she left and married a prince. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in moving into our cottage and looking after us?”

I said nothing.

”You know, cooking, cleaning, laundry. It’s not much, really. Just taking care of seven bachelors. We’ll give you your own room.”

I looked at the band of tiny miners and wondered if I could outrun them. “No, I’m good.”

Doc nodded his head like he understood. “Well, if you change your mind, we live back there in the woods by the stream, the yellow cottage.” He pointed vaguely behind him. Then they marched off, whistling, disappearing as quickly as they had appeared.

I was so going to have a conversation with my mom and dad. Who sends their kid out into a forest full of bears and weirdos? My parents, obviously.

I stumbled through the fog, hopefully in the right direction. I kept my eyes on the ground so that I could see the other path the bears had mentioned. I walked for what felt like forever.

“Hey girlie, whatcha got in the basket?”

Stopping, I scanned the edges of the fog. Nothing. Now I was hearing voices! I shook my head, reefed my boots out of the mud, and continued walking.

Ha ha snort! Ha ha snort Ha ha snort!

It wasn’t the wind! Someone was snort-laughing at me! The nerve!

”I heard that!” I said, loud enough to be overheard over the pounding rain.

Then, bold as you please, three little pigs came walking—no swaggering—out of the fog. They were walking like people, on their hind legs, wearing coats and hats. And the lead pig was chomping on a cigar.

”Yeah, ya heard us. Big deal. You were supposed to hear us.” He rolled the cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other. The three of them sauntered around in front of me, blocking my path. “I asked ya, what’s in the basket.”

Arrogant pig! No way I was going to tell him. That was it. I was over this forest and its freaks. I started him right in his beady porcine eyes. “None of your business,” I said.

“Oh, you’re a feisty one,” he said. His two buddies snort-laughed. “What if we just take it from you? What are you going to do to stop us?”

I’d had it. I was done. I looked down at them. They were, like I said, little pigs. Not boars, not full grown sows. These pigs were the size of piglets.

I narrowed my gaze, “Make pork chops,” I said, not flinching.

All three gasped and took a step back. The cigar fell out of the main pig’s mouth.

I stomped forward a step. “And bacon!” They skittered back a couple more steps.

“You’re a monster!” whispered the main pig. The three of them turned and ran back into the fog. Before he disappeared, the main pig turned and yelled, “I hope a wolf blows down your house!” And they were gone.

“AND SAUSAGES!!” I bellowed after them. Stupid pigs!

I was so angry. At my parents. At the bears. At the dwarfs. At the pigs. At the weather. At the stupid forest. At GG for living in the stupid forest.

I was so fired up that I almost missed it—the path to GG’s house. The one the middle sized bear told me about.

Right then my phone dinged. Bars! I had bars! Things were looking up!

A text from GG.

GG: Where are you? You were supposed to be here hours ago.

Me: On the way.

I dropped a pin, and checked the map. I was on the right path.

Finally!

CRACK!

A huge limb off of one of the trees crashed right in front of me, blocking the path. The wind whipped up, sending pieces of bark and wood splinters into the air, pelting me with shrapnel.

“I HATE THIS FOREST!” I screamed in frustration, stomping my foot, splashing mud everywhere.

I climbed over the bough, and big-footed it down the path to GG’s house.

What else could go wrong? I scanned the sky for a funnel cloud and flying monkeys. The rain had turned to full-on sleet by the time I reached the final bend in the path. And there was GG’s cottage, shrouded in fog.

“Thank you, forest gods!’ I said loudly, looking at the sky. I almost ran along the path towards the front door.

Before I could knock, the door opened. And standing there was not GG. In fact, not even a good likeness of GG. Just someone wearing GG’s clothes.

“Red, my dear! I’m so happy to see you! It’s so nice of you to come visit your poor old grannie today.”

I put my hands on my hips. “You have got to be kidding me!” I looked the figure up and down, contempt clouding my features. “You are not my grandma, and I am not your ‘dear.’” I squinted at the figure in the door. “You are a wolf, and I am in no mood for this today. I am wet and cold, and want my Grandma. You better not have eaten her, or you’re going to have to deal with me.”

I pushed my way into the house, slamming the door behind me.