The Passing Bell Tolls for Thee

16 Into the Woods

April parked the buggy near King's Oak a few days before Yule. The day was overcast and chilly, so she tucked her plaid scarf around her neck and zipped up her new, puffy, red jacket before getting out of the buggy.

"Let's go, Smokey. Get some mistletoe for the holidays. It's a tradition at Oakton, you see, so we'll gather some." She looked around at the trees, bare limbs darker grey against gray skies. "Some in the King's Oak, but it's too high up. Where's that pruner?"

She took a long pruning pole from the buggy and walked past the oak. She stopped to look over the magnificent old tree, and put her hand on the thick, rough bark. She wasn't wearing gloves.

"I could swear this tree feels warm. You know, like it's got a heartbeat." She laughed. "First, I'm talking to my dog, then I think a tree has a heart." She said, "It's like the sap is rising, but that's spring."

She looked up in the branches, then looked around as a twig snapped nearby. Smokey growled.

"What is it, Smokey?" She peered through the trees but saw nothing in the shadows under the trees. A twig snapped again, and Smokey's ears flattened. She grabbed his collar. "Quiet." She led the dog back to the buggy and put his leash on. Smokey's ears perked and his head turned as though following something through the woods.

"What is it, Smokey? An animal?" She thought she saw branches moving, an animal brushing past the bushes. "Hunh. Looks like a deer. A stag with antlers, maybe."

She hefted the pruning pole in her hands and wondered if the stag might attack. Stags could be aggressive in mating season. Could she fend it off with the pole? Smokey was quiet. If it was anything other than a shadow, it was gone.

She walked down the path between bare trees with Smokey beside her, until she found mistletoe growing on another tree. She chopped some off with the pole and put it in a bag. She walked to another tree and got more. Soon the bag was full.

"That's enough mistletoe, Smokey." She checked the sun, sinking below the horizon. "It's getting dark; let's go home." Smokey wagged his tail. She turned to go back to the King's oak but saw some holly with bright red berries. Owls hooted as they woke up for their night patrol, then hooted again.

"Holly. So right for the holidays." She chopped some off and added it to her stash.

"Home," she said. She walked around the holly bush and past a small, thorny tree. Her toe caught in something large and hard, and she tripped, falling flat on her face. She got the wind knocked out of her.

"Whooooooooar?" went an owl from a nearby tree. A second owl answered "Whooo".

"Owww!" She lay still for a minute, catching her breath. Her toe throbbed. "A stone!" She checked herself. She'd had the wind knocked out of her and stubbed her toe. The thorns of the tree had torn her new jacket, to her irritation. She hadn't hurt herself with the pruning hook. Smokey cool nose sniffed her to see if she was alright.

She pushed herself up on her elbows. "Good boy. I'm ok, maybe a bruise or two." She wiped her hands on her jeans, snagging a finger in a tear in one knee. She got up and searched for the stone she tripped over. Shadows were dark under the trees, and she pulled out her cell phone and used the flashlight.

She shined the light on the stone, and saw it was not a stone, but a curved piece of metal. She bent to look at it and ran her fingers over it and felt engraving. The owls hooted again.

"It's a bell, Smokey! I wonder what it's doing out here?" She pulled the bell out of the shadows to examine it. The bell was dark, with engraved branches above and below the waist. Something glittered on the waist. She shined her cell phone light on it. "Ooohhhh," she said, tracing her fingers over the golden stag engraved on the bell.

The stag had immense antlers and the small face wore an angry expression, as though the animal was preparing to fight, pawing and stabbing its opponents. "Whoa. You look just plain mean." She stroked her fingers over the stag. "I hope I don't meet you in the woods." She laughed.

She rolled the bell out a little further, careful of the thorns, and the clapper clanged faintly. An owl quieted in mid hoot, and the other did not answer. Smokey's ears picked up and he growled.

"Relax, Smokey, it's just a bell." She picked up the bell, which was not too large but was fairly heavy. It clanged again, not an unpleasant sound, but one that lingered oddly, and seemed to echo from far, far away. Smokey barked. She lugged the bell back to the clearing. As she set it on the floor of the buggy, the bell rang softly for the third time. The woods were silent as the soft night noises of small animals stopped.

A cold wind began to blow, and Smokey barked. The King's Oak branches swayed in the wind, but April saw no other trees moved by the wind. She shivered and pulled the collar of her jacket around her neck. Smokey continued to bark, then growled. The forest was silent but for the dog barking and the wind rustling branches.

"Smokey? Quiet, boy. Let's go home." Smokey hopped in the buggy beside her. She started the buggy, turned it around, and took one last look around the clearing. The woods were silent, dark, and cold in Oakton Forest. She drove to Oakton.