Wren and Micha stood on the edge of their small village. Their mother had sent them to go into the woods in search of mushrooms and wild tubers. Instead, however, they stood on the boundary between forest and village, looking up at the pale gray bones of a dead tree. It stood out clearly against the deep greens and earth browns of the rest of the forest. At the base of the dead tree was a pile of freshly fallen leaves, many of which were still quite green. Beneath the leaves they could just make out the strips of bark that must have sloughed off first.

“Do we need to tell somebody?” Micha, the younger of the two, asked.

Wren shifted her feet uneasily but when she spoke she made sure to keep her own fear hidden.

“It’s just a Soul Tree,” she told her younger sister. “We can tell mom about it when we get back.”

With that, Wren led the way into the shaded forest. It only ever took a few steps for the forest to swallow up the noises of the village until all the remained were the sounds of the forest. Small creatures scurried away at their approach, always staying hidden beneath the underbrush, and overhead the birds called to one another, warning of the two intruders.

As always, Wren and Micha stayed to the path that had been worn down by generations of village folk. Like any forest, it was all too easy to get turned around and become lost. Straying even a short distance off the path could prove disastrous without taking the right precautions. That was why the two girls made sure to carry large balls of string that they could tie to nearby boughs whenever they did venture off the established paths. With the ball in their apron pocket, it would feed out string as they walked that they could then use to follow. That way they’d always have a means of getting back to the path.

They sniffed the air while they walked, noting the subtle changes in the scents as they went.

“I think it’s getting stronger that way,” Micha said after several minutes and pointing away off the trail.

Wren smelled the air, turning her head this way and that before nodding her agreement. They each tied their strings to a nearby sapling and then began to make their way through the dense underbrush. It was slow going. Even in the best of places the undergrowth was fairly thick. Burrs and thorns caught and snagged at their clothing but the tight weave of their aprons helped to guard against the worst of it. At last, they found the source of the smell they’d been following.

Ever since they were very little, their mother had taught them both to recognize the smells of certain plants and fungi. The mushrooms and tubers that they were searching for today tended to grow together, one on top of the other, and their combined scents were particularly easy to follow. When stewed they made for one of their favorite meals and their mother hardly ever needed to pressure the girls to go in search of them.

This morning, however, as the girls looked at their find, they found themselves once again hesitating. Most things grew in a sort of haphazard fashion in the forest, but these mushrooms and tubers were growing in a clearly defined ring and at their center stood another Soul Tree, it’s bark and leaves recently fallen just like the one they’d seen at the edge of the forest.

Micha began to stoop down to pick a mushroom, not taking her eyes off the Soul Tree, but Wren snatched her by the back of her collar and yanked her upright.

“Don’t pick those!” she hissed.

Looking, they became aware of another Soul Tree, a little further in, and then another, and another. All of them looked to have recently died.

“What’s wrong, Wren?” Micha asked.

Wren couldn’t conceal her own fear anymore. Her hands and knees grew shaky and a cold sweat began to form on her face and neck. She strained her ears for any sounds that didn’t quite fit while continuing to look around. Everywhere she looked, she seemed to find more and more Soul Trees.

It wasn’t uncommon to find a Soul Tree here and there, but a fresh one was always a little disconcerting. Finding so many like this, however, was unheard of.

“What’s wrong?” Micha repeated and there was a hint of tears in her voice.

“We need to get home, now!” Wren stated and turned on the spot.

She made pulled Micha along, following their strings until they reached the path. Micha had wound her string ball back up while they walked but Wren was too distracted to be bothered with it and left the string to trail along behind her.

Wren knew Micha was still too young to understand the significance of Soul Trees. Most parents didn’t even try to explain the phenomenon to their children until they were at least Wren’s age, sometimes even older. It was, of course, impossible to completely hide their strange nature from children like Micha and eventually an answer had to be given since allowing the children to go on in ignorance was too dangerous.

“I wasn’t going to touch it,” Micha panted from behind Wren as they hurried along the trail.

“I know,” Wren replied, “but it’s not good to pick things that close to a Soul Tree either.”

“Why?” Micha asked.

Why indeed? Wren suspected there were things their parents hadn’t yet fully explained to her, but the first thing her mother had taught her before letting her go out foraging alone was that she must never pick anything growing near a Soul Tree, especially if it was growing in a ring around one.

“Why, Wren?” Micha repeated.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But mom said not to.”

Wren shot a glance back towards her little sister and knew she was dissatisfied with that response. To be honest, Wren was similarly upset but knew there was nothing else she could do about it at that moment in time.

“Why are Soul Trees bad, anyway?” Micha asked.

Wren didn’t want to have this conversation with her little sister but she knew Micha well enough to know that staying silent on the subject would only make the situation worse.

“Do you remember when Grandma died?” Wren asked.

“Uh-huh,” Micha replied.

“Remember how we made that big pile of wood?”

“Yeah, and they burned grandma on it.”

Judging from her voice, Micha was still mildly upset from witnessing the event.

“That’s what they do with everyone who dies,” Wren said matter-of-factly, although she too was still somewhat disturbed by the ritual. “That’s how their souls get set free,” Wren went on. “Otherwise, their soul gets trapped here.”

“How does that make a Soul Tree?” Micha asked.

“Those souls eventually find their way into a tree and that kills it.”

Micha was quiet for a while and Wren was thankful for that. They were almost out of the forest and then they would only be a few minutes from home. The longer they were in the forest the more Wren felt like the Soul Trees were watching her.

“But why are Soul Trees bad?” Micha finally asked.

“Because it means someone’s died and no one burned their body.”

“So?” Micha pressed.

“So, who died and why hasn’t anyone burned their bodies?” Wren replied. “Soul Trees are always close by to where the person died, which means someone in the village has died for each Soul Tree we saw.”

And a lot of those Soul Trees were new, Wren thought to herself.

All at once they were suddenly out of the forest and stood beneath the late morning Sun. The change in environment was a welcome one and both sisters took a moment to breathe in their relief.

“What do they do with Soul Trees?” Micha asked, looking directly at the one they’d first noticed that morning.

Out of the corner of her eye, Wren could see it and wondered again as to whose soul was now trapped inside of it. She didn’t want to look directly at it like her sister was doing. Everyone knew it was bad to stare at a Soul Tree, though the reason for that hadn’t been explained to Wren, if there even was a reason. She had a hard time telling the difference between what was fact and what was superstition regarding the Soul Trees.

“We burn them,” Wren stated.

“And then the soul is free?”

“I think so,” Wren answered but wasn’t entirely sure. The explanations she’d been given had been somewhat vague on that point. “Come on, we need to let mom know what we found.”

Micha didn’t begin walking at first and so Wren took her by the hand and pulled her along. It was unnerving how Micha never took her eyes off the Soul Tree the entire time it was within their sight. It was a relief when they were finally out of sight of the forest and Micha turned her gaze forward once more.

“You girls are back home early,” their mom noted when they stepped in through the front door.

“We saw some Soul Trees,” Wren said. “One right at the edge of the forest.”

“And there was one surrounded by mushrooms,” Micha added.

“A ring of mushrooms,” Wren corrected. “And there were several other Soul Trees, all of them pretty new.”

Their mother stood still and expressionless and Wren knew she was doing the same thing that she had done earlier that morning when she’d worked to hide her fear and concern from Micha after seeing the first Soul Tree. That realization did nothing to sooth her pounding heart or shaking hands.

“You’re sure they were new?” their mother asked.

“They were surrounded by piles of green leaves,” Wren said.

“How are you two feeling?” their mother asked in what she had obviously hoped would be a casual manner but only served to put Wren more on edge.

“I’m alright,” Wren assured their mother. “Micha had a hard time looking away from the Soul Tree on our way home, though.”

“I’m fine,” Micha said with annoyance but their mother hurried over to her nonetheless.

She knelt down in front of Micha and looked her over. What she was looking for, Wren had no idea. Their mother spent a significant amount of time looking into Micha’s eyes, turning her head this way and that to see if the changing light would reveal anything. Micha protested a bit but didn’t pull away. Finally, their mother leaned back, noticeably relieved.

“I’m glad you two are safe,” she sighed. “Wren, I’ve got the stew already started. Could you finish it up while I go see about taking care of those Soul Trees? There should still be some mushrooms and tubers in the root cellar.”

“Sure,” Wren said. This wouldn’t be her first time making the stew and she was glad for something so familiar to busy herself with.

“I’ll help too!” Exclaimed Micha who was already hurrying over to get a stool to stand on.

“Why don’t you come with me,” their mom said. “You can show me where those Soul Trees are.”

Micha wilted slightly. She always enjoyed helping around the kitchen, even though her help was more often a hindrance to whoever was preparing the meal.

“We’ll be back in a while.”

With that, her mother and Micha were gone and Wren was left alone in the house. She set to work chopping up the bit of meat her mother had been working on when they’d arrived and added it to the pot. She found the mushrooms and tubers in the root cellar and added them to the stew as well after chopping them up. It took a while for the tubers to soften but once they were done Wren knew the stew was ready.

She waited a good long while for her mother and sister to return, not wanting to eat without them, but the stew was getting cold and Wren was growing hungrier by the minute. She half expected her family to come bursting in the moment she sat down with a bowl of stew, teasing her with accusations of being unable to wait for them, but no such interruption occurred. Wren ate to her fill, rinsed out her bowl and set about cleaning up the small mess left behind from preparing the stew.

Evening was just beginning to set in when her mother, tired and weary with soot on her hands, knees, and face, returned home. She waved off Wren’s initial greeting and got herself a bowl of stew. The moment she sat down she let out a low sigh and closed her eyes. Her breathing was slow and steady, but in the way of one who was forcing their breathing to be slow and steady rather than it being their natural rhythm. After some time, she took a bite of the stew, taking her time to chew and swallow it. Every bite of stew was eaten with that same, methodical manner, as though every movement was a struggle and a relief at the same time.

All the while, Wren couldn’t help but notice the absence of Micha.

“How’d it go?” Wren finally asked and there was fear in her voice that she couldn’t hide.

“It’s taken care of,” her mother replied, setting her now empty bowl aside.

“The Soul Trees all got burned?” Wren asked.

“Yes,” her mother replied.

“Who were they?”

Her mother nodded.

“The Ferrier’s, over near the river,” she said. “Looks like they took ill or something. We didn’t get too close in case it was catching. They weren’t the friendliest of neighbors so no one had thought to check on them when they hadn’t been seen for a few days.”

“And,” Wren began, uncertain she wanted to really ask this question, “how’s Micha?”

Her mother gave an involuntary shudder and a gasp escaped her lips. She immediately hid her face in her hands and turned away from Wren.

“Mom?” Wren rushed to her mother’s side as the fear took hold of her. “Mom, what happened?”

“She’s alright,” her mother assured her, although there was plenty of uncertainty and worry in her voice. “She just looked at one of the Soul Trees a bit longer than she should have.”

“Where is she?” Wren pressed.

“She’s here, she just needs some rest,” her mom stated and waved a hand towards the corner of their small home where their bed mats lay.

Wren looked, and to her surprise she could make out the shape of her sister curled up beneath her blankets. Like always, the blankets were pulled up over her head so that no part of her was visible.

“I didn’t see her come in,” Wren muttered, confused.

“I know,” her mother replied. “And you’ll need to make sure you leave her alone until she’s feeling better. That means no talking to her, no pulling at her blankets, nothing.”

“Won’t she need to at least eat and drink and use the privy?” Wren asked.

Her mother didn’t respond right away, and instead she spent the time examining Wren, as though appraising her to see if she was old enough to finally be told the truth. Wren wasn’t sure she wanted to know the truth just yet and her mother seemed to sense that as well since she settled on just patting Wren’s hand and leaving it at that.

It took a few days, but eventually Micha crawled out from beneath her blankets. She was a bit dazed and didn’t recall her and Wren’s last trip into the forest, but otherwise she seemed alright. The only other strange thing about her was the significant amount of ash and soot that seemed to take days to finally wash off. That first day that Micha had awoke, Wren took her down to the stream and gave her a thorough scrubbing, as their mother had instructed, and yet within just a few hours Micha was leaving sooty foot and hand prints on everything she touched. In the mornings there was a thick layer of soot beneath her and a heavy scent of smoke followed her around. Every day Wren took Micha down to the stream for a bath and every day it took just a little longer for the ash to return until finally Micha was fully clean.

Their mother never sent Micha with Wren into the forest after that day. Wren wondered when, if ever, she would be ready to learn the truth, the entire truth, about Soul Trees and what had happened to Micha that day. A part of her hoped she could remain in ignorance, but somehow she knew that wouldn’t happen. Some day she would have to know. Perhaps then she would understand why none of the adults in the village ever ventured into the woods unless they had to, electing instead to send their children in to forage. It wasn’t a comforting thought and one that only served to hasten her desire to have children of her own that she could send in her place.