Walk in the Wood

An old woman, a wolf and a troll walked through the woods. The woman leaned on a stick, her back bent, her shawl around her shoulders. The wolf was lean, and mangy. He walked with his head low, turning to sounds in the trees, but he didn’t have the energy to dart after them. The troll was bigger than both of them together. Dried mud was cracked between his hairy toes. He trudged along, slumped so far that his knuckles drag the ground. He stunk, that particular combination of troll and dank mud and carrion, but the wolf and the witch had gotten used to it. They haven’t bathed in a while either, for that matter.

The wolf paused, sniffing the air. The other two stop. “Someone’s coming,” he said.

The old woman sighed. “Which one?”

The troll stretched up to his full height and peered ahead. “A girl.”

The wolf turned and crept into woods and is lost to sight in a moment. The other two hesitate. “Just one?” The witch asked.

The troll looked again. “Yeah. She has a basket.”

“Ah. That’s you, then.” The old woman turned and tottered after the wolf. The troll turned with a sigh and sat on the road.

A little girl with golden curls, carrying a basket, skipped into view. She stopped at the sight of the troll blocking half the path with his bulk.

“Hello, Mr. – Um–“ She hesitated, then forged ahead. “I’m on my way to my grandmother’s house!”

“Good for you,” he said.

“I was supposed to take the other path, but this one is quicker.” She glanced around, shifting from foot to foot.

“Fee Fi Fo Fum,” the troll replied.

She didn’t notice. “Look.” Her tone changed from bright to serious. “Have you seen a wolf? I’ve been walking all day. This is ridiculous.”

“Nope.”

“None at all? Usually by now –“

“I killed them all,” the troll interrupted.

“There always – what?”

“I killed them all. Hunted them down, and cut their heads off. Fee Fi Fo Fum,” he mumbled for good measure.

“That’s not how it’s supposed to go!” she grumbled.“What do I do now?”

“You were going to kill it anyway. What difference does it make to you?” he asked.

“You don’t understand! That’s not fair.” She turned and flounced back the way she came.

The troll waited, then stood and peered down the path, sniffed the air, and finally motioned to the woods. The old woman and wolf came back out, the wolf stretching because he had got in a quick nap.

“I hate that one,” the wolf said.

“I understand,” said the old woman, reaching out to the wolf. He leaned in to some ear scritches, and they resumed their slow journey.

They took a break by a stream, and the witch passed around some bread and cheese. The troll grimaced but reached for it anyway.

“It’s all right, dearie,” she said. “It’s from bonemeal. I had some for my roses.”

The troll brightened. “Oh, that was real sweet. Thank you.”

They almost got caught out when Jack approached.They hesitated because they all hated Jack, but finally decided the wolf was safest. They knew by now that if they tried to avoid the encounter all together, something worse would happen. Better the devil you know, it turned out. The wolf sent him off with a misdirection to a giant’s castle, and they continued their search.

“What about this one?” the wolf asked. They stood before a charming little house, with a white fence and white daisies.

“It’s definitely a cottage,” the witch said.“I cannot be near a cottage. It would be like Grand Central Station here.”

They followed a scant path to a deep cave.“This might work,” the woman said doubtfully.

“Nah. I can’t,” the troll grumbled. “There’s a whole troll ice cave thing. We’d probably end up with Odysseus.”

“You’re a troll, not a giant!” the wolf protested.

“You know as well as I do that don’t matter.”

They passed a glen, and skirted around a distant castle. The witch especially tried to not even make eye contact with the hut. They briefly considered a sturdy cabin, but the wolf took off like a shot at the sound of distant wood chopping.

Eventually the three tired travelers stood gazing at a round dwelling with a conical roof, covered in cloth.

“What is that?” the troll asked.

“A yurt, I think,” the witch said doubtfully.

“Does anyone have anything with a yurt?” the wolf asked.

“I got the Baba Yaga thing, but if we keep it nice this is certainly not a hut,” the old woman said.

“The camel in the tent, but this isn’t really a tent, is it?” The troll asked. They decided no, a yurt wasn’t a tent and it shouldn’t lure camels. They waited while the wolf carefully sniffed his way around and into the yurt. “No porridge on the stove or bread on the hearth,” he reported.“No babies. No clothes laid out. No talking birds. This might work.”

It was bigger than it looked, and even the troll was comfortable. They settled in cautiously, but the larder was full, and they were far from any paths or streams that little boys or younger princes might follow.

It had a little garden, a bit overgrown but in good shape. The witch looked for and dug up all the ramps and dumped them into the woods and the troll uprooted the brambles close to the yurt. An apple tree in the corner of the garden seemed to glow with jewel-like fruit. They considered chopping it down, but the troll just knocked down the garden wall near the tree, so anyone could just walk up and take one if they fancied, with no nonsense about sneaking in to steal one. After a few weeks the apples settled down to the normal, spot-flecked kind, pretty good for pie, so that was a relief.

They did panic when a pair of apple-cheeked children showed up at the door, sadly lost in the woods.

“You’ve done well, and mastered every challenge so far!” the witch said desperately. “Um, I’m the fairy in disguise sent to guide you.Take this talisman –“ she gestured frantically behind her, and the troll grabbed a wooden spoon from the table and put it in her hand. “- and travel three days toward the sunset. Strike the boulder three times, and your next guide will appear. Oh, and don’t try to find us again, or bad things will happen.”

“Thank you, fairy godmother!” the little girl gushed, and they were on their way.

They all slumped in relief when the wolf could tell they were gone. “My lord. Why did that work?” asked the troll.

“We don’t know if it did, yet,” cautioned the old woman. “Keep an eye out.”

Some months later on a bright summer morning, as the troll was weeding the garden and the woman was cleaning a rabbit the wolf had brought her, she stopped and looked up. “It’s been a year,” she said.

The troll stopped. “What?”

“A year. And two days.” The wolf sat up. “That’s right. Did we do it?”

“We got our happily?” The troll said in wonder.

“Our happily ever after,” The witch smiled, looking younger than she had in a long time. “We did it, dearies!”

And they did indeed live happily ever after.