Evil Among The Bluebells

They were whispering again. I could hear it all around me. It filled the air rising and falling in intensity and yet I could not distinguish one sound above another nor any words. Clearly they were excited about something. Even the birds were unable to settle, flitting from branch to branch and tree to whispering tree but it was not yet time for Shibbur.

The whole Tree-Spirit world relied upon the birds. They acted as a vast communications network. Some were official news carriers like the Pigeons and to a lesser extent the Song Thrush and then there were numerous other chattering birds. The Wood was home to myriads of them.

It was early spring and the mating songs of the Jays, Great Tits and Chaffinches echoed among the trees. Many were busily building their nests in a wide variety of trees, Beech, Larch, Mountain Ash, Birch, Oak and many others while the floor of the Wood was equally active with myriads of creatures moving through and under the crisp leaves, sprouting ferns, moss and early fungi. The snowdrops were waning now but the primroses were peeping through the grasses that were beginning a new life cycle.

Even decaying trees that had fallen in the winter or in previous years were now home to new life. This was Ecchwell at its most glorious with everything waking up and much of it in bud. The Sun was streaming through the twisted tree tops and the promise of life was everywhere. This was the Ecchwell I loved.

Alas, there were also (I was told) the Winged Creatures. By far the most feared of these were the Darwocs and the Malapreys who appeared in times of trial. No one was sure where they came from. They were so unlike the other birds, always gloating and peering from under thick eyelids. They had a wide wingspan, hooked bills and sharp curved claws. It was said that the Malapreys could even see through material things so that when they were circling above, there was no hiding place.

Others said that both creatures were the product of evil and twisted thoughts released from their constraints in times of trouble, taking the form of misshapen bird like creatures. They were stealthy ugly and menacing.

It was a large Wood. Not quite large enough to be called a forest but it stretched from the estuary in the west to the White Hills at its eastern tip and from the great valley in the north to the edge of the barren moorland in the south. Few had ever traversed its entire length and breadth.

Any mere human walking in this dense and, in parts, impenetrable world would only see a Wood like any other, not realising that it was alive, vibrant and making history everyday or that these trees of all shapes and sizes had their own spirits which roamed the woods during Shibbur, invisible to human eye but none the less real, intermingling and communicating with one another by Spiritual means.

A human would never see the light imprint of moving feet on the leafy floor or be able to watch the slight indentations appear and disappear as the Tree-Spirits moved along a multitude of paths, some well trodden. They would never see the flexing of the high grass or protruding shoots of hedges and the overhanging boughs bend and then spring back into place as the Tree-Spirits passed by.