Dust settled in the crisp morning air.  The sun pierced through the room’s lone window, providing some brevity to this otherwise dark moment. 

The room was small, only room for one, but it occupied two this day.  One man lied in a bed in the far corner of the room, his back up against the rustic, cedar walls.  He wore the same red long-Johns that he typically wore while in the cabin.  Stringy wisps of white hair twisted through his thick brow, as his milky eyes struggled to focus on the man who sat across from him.

“Dad?” the younger man asked.  He burrowed his eyebrows, thick just like his father’s.  He had hoped his father would respond to him today.  He hadn’t had a full conversation with his father since the old man’s health went downhill.

The older man didn’t move at first, only gazed off into the distance.  His son, sat in silence, slowly accepting that he may never get another chance to speak with his father again. 

As the sun rose through the foggy dew, the light crept down the cedar wall until it finally caught the old man’s face.  Shadows filled the sunken lines that ran across the old man’s forehead. 

Still staring off into the distance, a quiet, gravelly voice spoke.  “Have I ever told you…”

The young man sat up, leaning forward in the spindly chair. 

The old man’s eye finally fixed on his son.  Tears welled up in his eyes as the pride he had in his son overwhelmed him.  “Have I ever told you my favorite story of the two of us?”  His voice was soft, but you could sense a certain conviction in it.

His son sat stunned; his father had been in this lull for nearly two months now.  After he was told his father wouldn’t have much longer to live, he’d taken time off work to spend time at the cabin.  He knew his father wouldn’t want to go to a hospital, so he sat by his side every day, hoping to have one final good-bye with him.

“N-no,” he finally responded.

“I didn’t think you would,” the old man continued.  “You were too young to remember when it happened.”  He pulled himself up as much as he could in rickety bed.  “I’d probably say it was my greatest adventure.”  The old man smiled.  It was a silly, toothless grin that his son hadn’t seen in years. 

The young man now sat, head in his hands, waiting for the story to begin.

“I was exhausted before the day even began,” the old man started.  “I hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before…you see, this was going to be our first time going out together, so I was worried beyond belief.”

“What about mom?” the young man cut in.

The old man paused, struggling to find the right words.  “She’d been out there before, adventure after adventure, so she just wanted the two of us to have a good time…”  His voice trailed off as he ran his hand across his face, wiping it down.  “Now, where was I?”

“You were talking about how worried you were.”  The young man’s voice cracked, barely making it through his response.

“Yes…yes, and you were as excited as could be – waking up at the crack of dawn to make sure we were still going – but I had to power through the lack of sleep because it was just me and you that day.  The two of us beginning our journey together.”

The old man now settled in, back to his usual spot on the bed, getting ready for the long haul.  “We went out to explore.  Even before you could talk, you would try and climb up the sofa and stare out at the world.”  The young man smiled at his father…at all the stories his father used to tell.

“You know, even at a young age you were a handful.” The old man smiled that toothless smile again.  “It was tough since your mom couldn’t come, but with a cup-of-Joe in one hand and you in the other we made our way out into the world.”

Even from his earliest memories the young man could remember his father sipping on a cup of coffee.  He always drank it black, never saying or explaining why, but he seemed to simply enjoy the natural flavor of the bean.  He could still see the steam fogging his father’s glasses on a cold winter morning or the waking up to a pot brewing early on a school day. 

The old man continued.  “I always loved carrying you around…even when you could walk!” He choked on his laugh. “You were just so warm and squishy; it was like holding on to an over-sized marshmallow.  Hey, remember what I said when we first made a loaf of bread together?”

The young man sighed and recited his first lesson in bread making. “If you press the dough and it doesn’t bounce back, you’re not screwed just put it back in the warming rack.”

“Yes, yes.” The old man agreed. “Well, your dough wouldn’t bounce back from all that formula you would drink!”

The young man blushed but he was excited, he hadn’t seen his father this lively for years.

“Where was I now…” the old man took a moment to collect his thoughts.  Warmth had encircled the pair settled around the bed.  “I knew we had a long road ahead of us, but I never quite knew where the road would take us.  We didn’t get far in the beginning, we’d stop every few hours to feed you and then to nap, and then repack our belongings and continue our way.

“I don’t think I had a specific goal in mind.  No set trail to follow.  I just wanted to find the best route that suited us both.  It really became a routine; you were like an alarm clock going off every few hours. And every night you would snuggle up next to me and fall asleep without any complaints.  I would write as much as I could under the moon light until I eventually passed out right next to you.”

The old man scratched his head.  “Come to think of it, I don’t remember where I put that notebook…it would have saved me all this talkin’…

“Now one day…if I remember correctly, it was a cloudy day. A chilly, overcast morning and we were taking it easy just stretching out across a patch of grass.  I closed my eyes not more than a few seconds when first one, than two rain drops dripped across my face.  Before I could open my eyes, a tiny little palm smacked me across the cheek!

“A tiny little voice called out ‘Dadda!’ and there you were, your big round head smiling down at me.  I would always talk to you, it was just the two of us, but I never consider you’d talk back!”

The young man let out a soft chuckle. 

The old man paused, waiting just for the right moment.  “And you haven’t stopped talking ever since!”

“Oh come on!” The young man protested.  He stood up, “Want a drink? Gin? Old fashion? Scotch on the rocks?”

The old man shook his head, smiling.  “Always a joker too…”

The young man pulled out a large glass container and filled up two glasses.  “Water it is then.”  He handed his father a glass and both took large gulps, mirroring the way each other drank.

A wrinkled hand, lined in sunspots, rose up to wipe water remnants off the old man’s face.  “You know, at the time it didn’t seem like we were out that long, but now that I think about it, so much had happened.” The old man adjusted himself up against his wooden headboard.  “Shortly after your first words, we were roasting some dogs over a fire.  You were drawing in the dirt with a stick.  It was pretty late; we’d walked a lot that day and we were both exhausted.  I began to get hypnotized by the dancing flames when a shadow slithered across the ground and grew double in size!”

He stretched out his arms, recreating the size.  “The shadow contorted and writhed into a menacing creature.  Your eyes widened like a full moon, and you froze in terror.  The shadow screeched out loud and you dropped the stick and ran over to me.  You were shaking, afraid for your life, and I was just as afraid.  It felt like the world shook beneath us and the wind swirled around us nearly picking us up in the air!  The flames of our fire were extinguished in a heartbeat and we were alone in the pitch black…”

The young man sat frozen in his chair, living on every word of his father. 

“The shadow monster was gone.” His father continued.  “And we were in the dark alone…but we had each other.  After that, even though you were walking, you never wandered off too far, especially at night.  By that point I had grown a beard and we were like two regular old frontiers men.   

“Soon we headed North, into the hills and mountains.  I began to teach you little things.  I would count out the fire wood while we set out the nighttime fire and we would go bird watching, teaching each other different calls.  Eventually we were two peas-in-a-pod, I taught you everything I knew and you taught me some new things along the way.  Do you remember Faelan?”

The old man’s son ruffled his eyebrows, “Faelan?”

“Maybe you were too young to remember…Well, one day you had scampered away to explore.  You always brought back strange looking rocks or gems you would find out and about, but you’d always come back before dark.  The shadow monster was always in the back of your mind.

“I waitied for you near the riverbed, half trying to catch some dinner, half trying to pass the time, when I heard footsteps approaching.  I turned in excitement to see what kind of treasures you found this time and I was not disappointed.” The old man shook his head.  “You stood there with a wild wolf nearly triple your size.  His fur was gray and matted with dirt, and his tongue hung out panting.  I nearly panicked and ran for it, but you softly said ‘Dad, this is Faelan, he said he’d keep us safe from the Beathiochs…those are those shadow creatures.’ I stood there listening to you while watching this wild beast mosey up to the river and drink the fresh water.”

The old man’s eyes filled with wonder and his eyebrows arched up to the sky as he recalled Faelan.  “Then remarkably, Faelan turned back towards the two of us and spoke.  ‘Your son is right…you won’t survive another year out here without help…I will guide you to safety.’  He had a deep grizzled voice, one that could be heard from miles away if so chose to.  His yellow eyes spoke of years of wisdom without saying a word.  I somehow knew he was telling the truth, and so he became a member of our small family.

“We fed him, we bath him, and we talked to him.  In return, he was our friend, our guardian…it was you and Faelan who taught me to love nature and wildlife.  To love all living creatures.”

“Dad, wait a minute,” the man’s son cut in.  He stood up, looking around the cabin and then back at his father who was there in his worn long-Johns.  And then he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his father so happy…so lively.  He egged his father on to continue. “Actually…never mind.  What happened with Faelan?  I don’t remember too much of our time with him.”

With the help of the midday sun, the cabin now began to warm up.  “He wasn’t around for long so I’m not surprise.”  He peered over his son’s shoulder at the far side of the room.  “Are you hungry at all?  I have half a loaf and some cheese if you want to split it?”

The young man turned around to find a half-eaten loaf and some cheese cubes in a mini fridge.  He thought back to all the good meals they had together.  Fresh lobster up in Maine. Unagi don in Tokyo.  Brick oven pizza in Sicily.  And then he looked back at the cheese and bread he was putting together and frowned. 

His father started back up again as he put the finishing touches on lunch.  “Faelan was wise, he seemed old yet ageless and he helped teach both of us how to survive out in the wild.  One day when we were making our way through the final passages of the mountain range…for the life of me I can’t remember the name…but those were some tumultuous times.  You were on my back that day…the trails were as narrow as a feather.  Just a step too much to the right and you’d be plummeting down thousands of feet to your death.  The snow…yes! It was snowing too!  The snow slowed us some but knowing that we were close to passing through the range drove us to keep moving. 

“The Nightsguard Forest was just beyond the mountains, where Faelan said we’d find sanctuary.  As we descended the final trail, night began to fall and Faelan felt on edge.  The stars in the sky started to dim and the moon hid behind the clouds.  The snow began to bombard us, knocking us against the side of the stone giant.  The earth rumbled below our feet and Faelan cried out, ‘Quick, light the torch!’ And so I did.  With the flame illuminating the murky pass, shadows shifted in the corner of my eye. 

“Even with the torch light, the darkness began to overwhelm the three of us.  I could feel you shivering on my back and your warm tears smearing up against my neck.  Faelan, who’s coat was more white than gray now, turned to wart off the intruders.  He barked the deepest bark I’d ever heard as it shook the mountains.  His eyes cut through the foggy air like a sharp blade.  Again he barked, continuously growling at the shadow creatures, the Beathiochs as he called them.

“More began to crawl down the steep slope, to block the other pass.  Those ungodly creatures…I’ve never seen anything move like them before.  Faelan called out again to us, shouting, ‘Go, you have your chance now!  If you continue on through the night, you’ll find Nightsguard by dawn!’  The Beathiochs were now wrapping their wispy tentacles around Faelan pulling him down.  ‘Go!’ He cried out one final plea.  With tears now warming my own face, I turned and ran.  I ran until I couldn’t run anymore.  The pain I heard in Faelan’s howls echoed through the night, filling me with terror.  I must have run all night because the next morning we woke at the edge of a crowded woodland: the Nightsguard Forest I guessed.  We spent the next day mostly in silence wondering whether or not to go on, but Faelan did what he said he would do, he guided us to safety, and now we both had to carry on his honor.”

Both the old man and his son sat with tears streaming down their cheeks and they quietly chewed on bread and cheese.  The young man knew this couldn’t have been true but couldn’t explain why he was so emotional about the wolf’s demise.  Now, he began to question what reality was and what was fantasy.

After a moment, the old man went on.  “Nightsguard Forest truly was a haven for the two of us.  We needed a fresh start and the forest gave us one. As soon as we entered the tree line, the deep canopies encapsulated us in a dim blue glowing light.  The branches swayed back and forth with the rhythm of the earth.  Small dancing lights floated through the air.  Voices rang out wisping us closer and closer into the center. 

“It was like we were pulled in…under a charm.  The voices were angelic and drew us into the thickest part of the forest. Thin, glowing creatures circled around us, their light green skin shimmering like a the starry sky.  Their long ears pointed through their silver hair.  The song continued to surround us.  Any bump or bruise I had, any feeling of exhaustion, all went away.  The creatures held hands in concert as their song continued.  By the end of their song, we were both asleep – warm in each other’s arms – as it seemed like the trees themselves were protecting us, wrapping a natural force field around us.

“Who or whatever they were, fay or nymphs, we never saw them again.  This doesn’t mean they weren’t watching over us, no.  We grew quite a comfortable life in the forest, and I’m sure it had plenty to do with those night guardians.”  The old man took a deep breath, wiping crumbs off his chest.  “There came a point where this new home of ours wasn’t enough for you…and I suppose not enough for me either.  So we packed up our belongings and continued on our way like we always did.

“The night before our departure a beautiful woman spoke out to me while you slept.  She had glided through the trees so smoothly I thought she had been floating.  At first, I thought she may have been one of the people of the forest, the green folk, but her hair was brown and thick, and her skin a deep bronze, nearly as dark as her hair.  Her white robe flowed in the air and bestowed upon me a warning I never passed on to you.”  The old man turned to look at his son.  “She dragged the palm of her hand across my face, saying, ‘This is a place of haven and of risk.  Once you are welcome, you are blessed with the safety of the forest…but years pass by that you are unaware of…beware and be careful.  The blessing leaves when you leave the sanctities of the forest.’

“Her body leaned into mine.  I could feel her warmth pressing up against me and then she wasn’t there any more…almost like she never was there.  I sat up the rest of the night thinking about what she had said to me.  Watching you calmly sleep.  And I decided we had to go.”

The young man stopped cleaning up their plates and rested one hand on the counter.  “Who do you think she was?”

“A protector?  Some type of spirit?  Not really sure.”  The old man nuzzled down under his covers, gathering his thoughts.  “She looked somewhat like your mother though…” He let his voice trail off.

The young man’s eyes swelled with tears.  “Oh…” Was all he could managed in response.

Both the old man and his son turned their attention to an old, framed picture of the happy couple when they first started to date.  The picture laid in a beautifully ornate golden frame.  His father always talked about how silly his mother was, how happy she was.  He claimed, “We never fought or argued, we just loved each other.”  And this picture encapsulated the two of them perfectly.  His father, arm wrapped around his mother, never wanting to let her go, and his mother kissing him on the cheek while trying to sneak a pair of finger ears over his father’s head.

The old man broke the silence.  “The next day we did as we planned.  We packed up the last of our things and took the trail back out of Nightsguard Forest.  By the time we reached the edge of the tree line, my body had begun to ache.  It had felt like we hadn’t moved in years, and time was now catching up with me.  Once we were out in the sun, the light pierced my eyes, momentarily blinding me.

“The journey out of the forest; however, seemed to have the opposite effect on you!  You were able to help guide me when my legs didn’t want to go on and you gave your opinion openly and freely whenever you saw fit.”  The old man sighed, staring out the window.  “The further away we got from the forest, the closer we got to civilization.  We began to pass strangers, old and young, and I’d catch you staring off at others…wondering what it would be like to talk to one another, to talk to people your own age…to girls your own age.”

The old man caught the gaze of his son.  “That’s how I knew our adventure wouldn’t last forever.  It had become a burden for you to watch over me at times and you hadn’t seen the world for yourself yet.  So when you weren’t paying attention I’d always be on the lookout for a safe haven of my own.  My own little Nightsguard Forest.”

The young man cut off his father.  “Dad, please don’t tell me you really thought that…that you were a burden to me…”  His thick eyebrows burrowed down into his eyelids, pleading with his father to tell him he was only kidding.

The old man reached out, grabbing his son’s hand.  “It’s merely a fact of life…first the child burdens the parents and then the parents burden the child.  Everyone needs their own story, and I knew yours needed to start soon.  It took a while, but eventually we found a nice cozy log cabin all by itself in the wilderness.”  The old man grabbed hold of his son’s hand more firmly.  “And I’ve been content ever since.”

The young man didn’t know what to believe from his father’s story, but he knew he owed everything to him.  He leaned in, wrapping his arms around his frail father.  He could feel how cold his father’s body was even in the long-Johns and under the blanket.  “Thank you, dad.”  He whispered to his father.  “Thank you for everything.  I love you.”

The old man warmed up through his son’s embrace.  “It was all worth it…look at what a young man you’ve become.  Your mother would be so proud…”

Wiping away tears, the young man grabbed hold of the framed picture of his parents on the side table.  “I just wish she could have come out on that adventure with us…on all of our adventures…”

The old man nestled back into his bed, closing his eyes.  “Me too son, me too.  I think about what it could have been like every day.”

The sun had begun to set, leaving a purple hue in the sky.  The young man looked out the window into the cloudless sky.  “At least we have your stories of her, your memories, right dad?”   And just for a moment he could have sworn he heard a wolf’s howl cry out in the distance.    

The young man turned around to see his father.  The old man laid motionless in his bed, eyes closed, and the sun’s dim tone giving his face some false color. 

The gold framed picture rested against the old man’s chest.

He was now truly content.

Copyright William Meier Jr. 2021 ©