Isabella and the Beast
T he sun was a large, deep orange ball that hung by the edge of the horizon. It cast its waning rays out across a landscape blanketed by forest and shrubbery.
Isabella stared out at the fading light from the edge of the Dark Forest, that grouping of trees through which not even sunlight could properly penetrate.
She had considered spending the night in town — that would have been infinitely wiser, she knew. But Isabella had always been impulsive, had always followed her heart rather than her head.
And her heart told her that she would make the journey tonight, and end her father’s suffering sooner.
Her horse grunted beside her, his breath steaming out from his nostrils as he nervously pawed the dark, damp soil beneath their feet.
“It’s alright, Franco,” she cooed softly to her beast. She’d been riding him since she was just a wee girl, and the two shared a close bond. “We’ll be there soon. It’s only a forest!”
But Franco did not move, and she slumped on him, hugging his thick neck. She whispered to him, telling him it would be alright. His ears pricked up and listened to her, and she saw in his eyes and through the flaring of his nostrils that he understood her.
The great horse took a few hesitant steps, past the imaginary line that marked the beginning of the Dark Forest, a place that few people dared to ride into. It wasn’t the first time Isabella had strayed past that line. Only a few years ago, when she was still a young girl turning into a young lady, she had ventured in. Franco had been with her, and he had moved slowly, weaving through the trees. She had constantly looked at the thick canopy overhead, and had not heard the screeches of birds and chittering of insects.
Everything was silent in dark forest, as though the myriad animals that dwelt within were themselves too afraid to make a sound.
Isabella had lost her nerve first, and guided Franco, who was all too happy to comply, out of the foreboding forest. Her heart had been racing, her cheeks flushed, and beads of sweat lined her upper lip and forehead. It was the most excitement she’d ever experienced before.
But she was older now and braver still. And instead of fear, her heart now pumped stubbornness through her veins.
“Franco,” she whispered. “We have to go back through here. We cannot go around, that would take too long, and we would be stuck on the road in the middle of the night! That would be even more dangerous than going through Dark Forest at dusk.”
The horse grunted his acknowledgment, and shook his head from left to right.
“I know, Franco, I know. But the town was the only place we could get this medicine. You know that!” The horse whinnied, and Isabella patted his neck. “Shh, shh, that’s enough complaining out of you. Here, I’ll light the lantern.”
The path in front of them was soon bathed in an orange glow that flickered occasionally with the lantern’s small flame. She placed her hand on her small pouch, inside of which was the herbal remedy that would surely rescue her father from the fever that engulfed him.
She wondered, still, if she should have stayed the night in town. She could have set off bright and early the next day. The fever would not have claimed him in the night. The next night, though…
“No,” she whispered to herself, trying to fortify her spirit with familial love and conviction. “I don’t regret my decision!”
But still the fingers of regret were caressing her consciousness. She, like many others, had heard stories of Dark Forest. They were, of course, only stories!
They had to be!
They spoke of a creature with eyes that glowed bright yellow, and a body so fearsome and large it could frighten a horse to death. They said horses had been found dead and rigid, eyes opened wide in horror and nostrils flared. They said the cause of death for those horses was that their hearts had simply stopped. Just like that.
Isabella shook her head
T he sun was a large, deep orange ball that hung by the edge of the horizon. It cast its waning rays out across a landscape blanketed by forest and shrubbery.
Isabella stared out at the fading light from the edge of the Dark Forest, that grouping of trees through which not even sunlight could properly penetrate.
She had considered spending the night in town — that would have been infinitely wiser, she knew. But Isabella had always been impulsive, had always followed her heart rather than her head.
And her heart told her that she would make the journey tonight, and end her father’s suffering sooner.
Her horse grunted beside her, his breath steaming out from his nostrils as he nervously pawed the dark, damp soil beneath their feet.
“It’s alright, Franco,” she cooed softly to her beast. She’d been riding him since she was just a wee girl, and the two shared a close bond. “We’ll be there soon. It’s only a forest!”
But Franco did not move, and she slumped on him, hugging his thick neck. She whispered to him, telling him it would be alright. His ears pricked up and listened to her, and she saw in his eyes and through the flaring of his nostrils that he understood her.
The great horse took a few hesitant steps, past the imaginary line that marked the beginning of the Dark Forest, a place that few people dared to ride into. It wasn’t the first time Isabella had strayed past that line. Only a few years ago, when she was still a young girl turning into a young lady, she had ventured in. Franco had been with her, and he had moved slowly, weaving through the trees. She had constantly looked at the thick canopy overhead, and had not heard the screeches of birds and chittering of insects.
Everything was silent in dark forest, as though the myriad animals that dwelt within were themselves too afraid to make a sound.
Isabella had lost her nerve first, and guided Franco, who was all too happy to comply, out of the foreboding forest. Her heart had been racing, her cheeks flushed, and beads of sweat lined her upper lip and forehead. It was the most excitement she’d ever experienced before.
But she was older now and braver still. And instead of fear, her heart now pumped stubbornness through her veins.
“Franco,” she whispered. “We have to go back through here. We cannot go around, that would take too long, and we would be stuck on the road in the middle of the night! That would be even more dangerous than going through Dark Forest at dusk.”
The horse grunted his acknowledgment, and shook his head from left to right.
“I know, Franco, I know. But the town was the only place we could get this medicine. You know that!” The horse whinnied, and Isabella patted his neck. “Shh, shh, that’s enough complaining out of you. Here, I’ll light the lantern.”
The path in front of them was soon bathed in an orange glow that flickered occasionally with the lantern’s small flame. She placed her hand on her small pouch, inside of which was the herbal remedy that would surely rescue her father from the fever that engulfed him.
She wondered, still, if she should have stayed the night in town. She could have set off bright and early the next day. The fever would not have claimed him in the night. The next night, though…
“No,” she whispered to herself, trying to fortify her spirit with familial love and conviction. “I don’t regret my decision!”
But still the fingers of regret were caressing her consciousness. She, like many others, had heard stories of Dark Forest. They were, of course, only stories!
They had to be!
They spoke of a creature with eyes that glowed bright yellow, and a body so fearsome and large it could frighten a horse to death. They said horses had been found dead and rigid, eyes opened wide in horror and nostrils flared. They said the cause of death for those horses was that their hearts had simply stopped. Just like that.
Isabella shook her head
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