The Forest of Wind (Book Four of The Whispered Tales) - on hold

The kiss

George tried his best to stay away from the forest. During the day, he was working in his grandmother's barn, fixing the wood that broke over the winter. Then, he was leading the cattle to graze on the plain at the edge of the village. As far away from the forest as possible. In the evening, he would meet his friends and walk through the village, stopping at a gate to talk to a girl, or just talking with the lads about the fieldwork or the cattle. But his friends noticed George was no longer laughing as before. The walks were no longer to his liking. He didn't like the challenges of the past, such as jumping over the fire or climbing the tallest tree.

"What's wrong with you, mate?" Stefan, his friend, asked him one day. "You don't laugh anymore... You don't like anything anymore ... It's like it's not you anymore."

"I'm fine ..." George replied, forcing himself to speak. "I'm just tired, that's all."

Stefan turned silent for a while.

"Maria asked about you," he finally said. "She's worried."

"What did you tell her?" George asked, feeling a heaviness in his chest.

"That you were busy ... That you were tired after you got lost in the woods ..."

George swallowed hard. "Tell her not to worry anymore."

"You know what, I don't understand you," Stefan continued. "Anyone would be the luckiest lad in the village to have a girl like her interested in him. She is as good as warm bread, hard-working and, above all, the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Isn't she dear to you? "he wondered.

George felt his body hot all of a sudden.

"You know what? Why don't you woo her if she's so perfect, huh?" he shouted. "Go on! Woo her! I don't care," he shouted, walking away from him, his fists clenched.

He didn't need to hear his friend's pathetic excuses, anyway.

That night, George couldn't find sleep in his bed with the straw mattress, in the attic. Nights were the hardest. At night, all the memories of what happened in the forest invaded him as if they were real. He had tried his best to tell himself that everything had been a dream. Maybe it was too hot that day, and he had fainted from the heat. But as the darkness fell, that sweet voice called to him, ever more alluring as if it were coming within him. And the lights in the forest flickered, brighter than the stars. George tried to chase the voice away, thinking of Maria. He touched his lips with his fingertips, trying to remember her every kiss. Then he pressed his lips, hoping that her kiss would stay on his lips forever. But her kiss dissipated with each night that passed.

Sometimes, when there was complete silence, he could hear the faery's song. And her song reached the depths of his soul, troubling him and sending away his peace. And the torment began again. George would fall asleep late at night, his eyes on the lights dancing above the forest. And the next day, he would wake up more tired than when he went to sleep.The next day, George met Maria at the fountain in the middle of the village. She had come to bring water with the yoke, and the girl had filled both the wooden buckets. The sun was reflecting in the fresh water, shedding light on her face and hair. Her sad eyes were dark-blue now, but the sadness made them even more sparkling.