Tales From The Woods #7

Where did I leave off? Right, the second coot and its mysterious message. "The Lady in Orange moves". I mulled it over, but made no progress. The only orange I knew anything about were the vests we wore to avoid being mistaken for turkeys by local hunters. That was either several months past, or several months ahead, depending on your perspective. The phrase meant nothing to my coworkers, though I was careful to omit the story behind it.

They think I'm odd enough already.

With no idea how to proceed, I set it aside and focused on work. The season was drawing to a close and I wanted to make sure I didn't let my work decline in quality. This required a bit of concentration, as it was a dull season. Being drier than the previous fall did make work more pleasant, but also meant fewer active creatures. Things were tedious. Even the horses weren't around much.

In the last days, I found myself at a particular array early in the morning. Nothing unusual there: I'm a creature of habit when it comes to work, and this was always the second set of traps I visited. A busy array, but not much variety. It did have the distinction of having the most difficult walk back to the trail. That's something.

This particular day was rather grey. The sky seemed composed of a single, massive cloud. There was no fog of mist to speak of, but the clouds hung low; the tree tops obscured. More than that, everything looked washed out. The sometimes shiny fences of the array were dull, and all around were bare trees, their dead leaves covering the ground in bland shades of brown. I was only vaguely aware of any of this, focused on checking the traps closely, trying to miss nothing, arguing with myself about something inconsequential the whole time. Still, I wasn't so lost in work I missed the sound of someone humming. It simply took a moment to consider the implications.

Other voices on site aren't unusual. I'm not the only person with arrays here, nor is ours the only project. Plus there's the chatter over the walkie-talkie. I can go through a day without hearing another person, but it's hardly a given. The problems with those answers, in order: My coworkers don't enter the field this early, and always start on the opposite side of the site, miles away. Most of the other projects closed for the year in August, and the others don't operate near here. And I'd turned my radio off because all the trucker chatter was driving me nuts. There was nothing left but to determine the origin of it, drawing steadily closer.

Which turned out to be easy. I turned, looked downhill, and spied a person moving towards me. They wore an orange cloak, the hood forward so far only the lower half of their face was visible. At first glance, they appeared to be running in slow motion, strangely long stretches between each foot touching the ground. As they drew nearer I realized they were moving in leaps, or bounds, if you prefer. One foot would barely touch ground and they were airborne, only to land softly on the other foot for an instant before rising again. It gave the impression that with only a little increase in speed (or with an assist from this wind that had picked up), they'd take flight as surely as a bird. That apparently wasn't the goal, as their speed remained constant on their path directly to me. The trees seemed to part before her (she'd moved close enough I could discern it was a her), retainers standing at attention as she passed, so nothing would bar her way. Even if it was an illusion, given the density of trees around it was an impressive one, and on some level worrisome. I recalled something killed the first coot, and the second fled quickly after delivering its note. It might be time to be someplace else, preferably with lots of other people.

I didn't move. The somewhat logical reason was I was at the bottom of a steep hill, and even after I made it to the top, my preference for parking where my truck was unlikely to be damaged meant a several minute walk to reach it. Contrary to my coworkers' beliefs, I do get tired marching up and down these hills. My approaching visitor was covering ground effortlessly. However she managed it (gravity manipulation? strong legs?), I doubted my ability to reach ridge before her, let alone stay in front until I reached my truck. The less logical reason was curiosity. Something was going on, and I had wound up in the middle of it. Why not see where it lead?

So I stepped to one side and leaned against a tree. I thought an air of nonchalance might help keep things non-threatening. By the time I settled myself, she'd arrived, the humming tailing off as she came to a stop. A few inches shorter than me, what of her wasn't covered by the cloak looked thin. I'd think she was living rough, but the condition of her boots, cloak, and pants said otherwise. They were all in considerably better shape than what I favored for work. Her large, dark eyes regarded me from the shadows under the hood. The shadows were so deep, I wasn't positive I actually saw them. Maybe I just felt her gaze, and my imagination filled in the blanks. She smiled. A good sign. I returned the smile, and decided to take the initiative (unusual for me when it comes to meeting new people, but what the hell, it was an unusual circumstance).

"I'm Calvin. How are you doing?"

She seemed ready to respond, then paused and raised her head, scanning the tree tops. In the next instant she leapt back as a branch nearly fell on her. I noticed the wind had increased sharply, odd since it was coming from uphill, behind me. Meanwhile, my guest had continued dodging branches, thought without any signs of difficulty. I looked into the canopy myself, but couldn't see anything. When I lowered my gaze, she'd already retreated to the opposite ridge and was still going. I started in pursuit, but skidded to a halt as a tree fell and blocked my path. By the time I clambered over, the Lady in Orange was nowhere to be seen, and the wind had abated. At least the array wasn't damaged.

That hadn't been how I hoped things would go. Had that been the Ghost of the Forest? Was it trying to protect me? The Lady hadn't seemed hostile, but I could have misread the situation. Maybe her voice was deadly, or she had a spiked, prehensile tongue I was about to be impaled by. But if that was so, why wait to drive her away? I've treated the Ghost as an amusing invisible work companion, but maybe that's the situation I misread.

To figure this out, I needed face time with one of them. Since the Ghost wasn't inclined to be visible or audible, that left tracking down the Lady. Or finding someone to do it for me. With the season drawing to a close, time was of the essence, so I called in an old friend. I pointed them in the direction of the site, offered what meager evidence and observations I had, and left them to it while I started in on end-of-the-season clean-up and equipment organization. I did impress upon my friend the need to stay out of sight, of human eyes, at least.

After all, a panda, be it an once adorable baby, or a now clever adolescent, isn't something one sees often in these parts.