Enchanted Read Free

luminous, gilded green light nearly the color of the moss that grew so thick and soft on the ground. The trees chilled the air with their shade, scented it with their fragrance.
    The forest floor was soft with shed needles and ripe with the tang of sap.
    At their bases, ferns grew thick and green, some thin and sharp as swords, others lacy as fans. Like fairies, she thought in a moment’s fancy, who danced only at night.
    The stream bubbled along, skimming over rocks worn round and smooth, tumbling down a little rise with a sudden rush of white water that looked impossibly pure and cold. She followed the wind of it, relaxed with its music.
    There was a bend up ahead, she thought idly, and around the corner there would be a stump of an old tree on the left that looked like an old man’s worn face. Foxglove grew there, and in the summer it would grow talland pale purple. It was a good place to sit, that stump, and watch the forest come to life around you.
    She stopped when she came to it, staring blankly at the gnarled bark that did indeed look like an old man’s face. How had she known this would be here? she wondered, rubbing the heel of her hand on her suddenly speeding heart. It wasn’t on Belinda’s sketch, so how had she known?
    “Because she mentioned it. She told me about it, that’s all. It’s just the sort of fanciful thing she’d tell me, and that I’d forget about.”
    But Rowan didn’t sit, didn’t wait for the forest to come to life. It already felt alive. Enchanted, she thought, and managed to smile. The enchanted woods every girl dreams of, where the fairies dance and the prince waits to rescue her from the jealous hag or the evil wizard.
    There was nothing to fear here. The woods were hers as long as she wanted. There was no one to shake their heads indulgently if her mind wandered toward fairy tales and the foolish. Her dreams were her own as well.
    If she had a dream, or a story to tell a young girl, Rowan decided, it would be about the enchanted forest … and the prince who wandered it, searching through the green light and greener shadow for his one true love. He was under a spell, she thought, and trapped in the sleek, handsome form of a black wolf. Until the maiden came and freed him with her courage, her wit, and with her love.
    She sighed once, wishing she had a talent for the details of telling stories. She wasn’t bad at themes, she mused, but she could never figure out how to turn a theme into an engaging tale.
    So she read instead, and admired those who could.
    She heard the sea, like an echo of memory, and turned unerringly onto the left fork of the path. What began as a whisper became a roar, and she started to hurry, was nearly running by the time she burst out of the trees and saw the cliffs.
    Her boots clattered as she climbed up the rocks. The wind kicked and tore loose what was left of her braid so that her hair flew wild and free. Her laughter rang out, full of delight as she came breathlessly to the top of the rise.
    It was, without a doubt, the most magnificent sight she’d ever seen. Miles of blue ocean, hemmed with fuming white waves that threw themselves in fury against the rocks below. The afternoon sun showered over it, sprinkling jewels onto that undulating mat of blue.
    She could see boats in the distance, riding the waves, and a small forested island rising out of the sea like a bunched fist.
    Gleaming black mussels clung to the rocks below her, and as she looked closer, she saw the thorny brown sticks of a bird’s nest tucked into a crevice. On impulse she got down, bellied out and was rewarded by a glimpse of eggs.
    Pillowing her chin on her hands, she watched the water until the boats sailed away, until the sea was empty and the shadows grew long.
    She pushed up, sat back on her heels and lifted her face to the sky. “And that is the first time in too long that I’ve done nothing at all for an afternoon.” She let out a long, contented breath. “It was