Dull Leaf Trail

Mortals are so hard to ensnare these days.

Birdie can’t help but feel lied to. 

The undergrowth scratches at her ankles, and she curses, giving the plant a swift kick before stepping on it, pleased at the loud crunch of twigs and leaves under her foot. A deserved punishment simply for being there, she thinks smugly, continuing along Dull Leaf Trail, Avaloria Nature Preserve’s only trail marked as “easy.” 

This is, of course, why it was her first and only choice of hiking trail. It runs parallel to its sister, the Bright Leaf Trail, Avaloria’s “moderately strenuous” track of land. She was assured by the park ranger that the former would be perfectly manageable by the project manager whose idea of a strenuous activity is walking the extra block to the better-rated bagel place. 

When Alice suggested an early-morning hike, Birdie thought, Sure, why not? It’s early November and the morning air is crisp—restorative, as her sister insisted, flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder.

And Birdie supposes it did start that way. The sisters walked side-by-side, indulging in the dappled sunlight, and commenting, every few steps or so, on the colors surrounding them. Avaloria Nature Preserve wears November well, after all. 

It’s a small stretch of land, but this time of year it is awash in lush crimsons, incandescent golds, and rich cognacs that bring hikers from all over the country. The air smells of frost and dirt and something so real, that Birdie isn’t even sure there’s a word for it.

Nature, she thought at the time. Yes, this is what life is all about—the simple things.

But the sun turned harsh after only ten minutes of walking, adding a distinctive air of inconvenience to the whole thing. The trail is unkempt, wild even, with prickly vines that creep rudely onto the pathway to snare on her ankles. 

Alice, however, seems to thrive on the hazards presented by Nature and, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement, she takes off ahead, leaving Birdie to wrangle her way through the underbrush alone. Fine, yes. Leave me behind you selfish—

Birdie pauses, realizing she can no longer see Alice up ahead. Was it always so quiet here? she wonders, looking around. The air is still, the sunlight heavy against her shoulders. “Alice?” A twig snaps somewhere to her right, and she turns around, peering through the trees. “This isn’t funny.”

The air suddenly turns cold, a light wind rifling through the trees, the dry crunch of brown leaves becoming a scratchy whisper that echoes around her. She folds her arms in front of her chest and taps her foot against the hard-packed earth, cursing, not for the first time, her inability to say no to her little sister. She thinks about heading back to the beginning of the trail, where her four-door hybrid vehicle sits awaiting her return, a coupon for a free pumpkin-spice latte in the cup holder. It’s a better option than trying to catch up to Alice, wherever she’s disappeared to. 

“Hello.”

Birdie swivels around, heart slamming against her ribcage. She smiles shakily at the young woman standing next to her. “Sorry, didn’t hear you approach.”

The Newcomer nods apologetically, tilting her head to the side. Her hair trickles over her slim, pale shoulder like water, smooth and shiny. It’s an interesting color, only Birdie can’t quite tell what color it is. She has the odd notion that it’s not even a color at all, but that it is merely absorbing the hue of the trees, as if this lithe young woman is made of the forest. How silly.  

“You look positively parched,” says the Newcomer. Her voice sounds musical, like bells on the wind or a trilling flute. Her pomegranate lips plump up in a pout. “Would you like to drink from my flask?” 

Birdie looks at the nondescript metal bottle with some consternation. It’s true that she’s thirsty, but there’s a virus going around, and she would hate to get sick. This Newcomer looks healthy enough, but one can never be too sure. She’s going to Mallorca in two weeks, after all. Must stay fit. “No, thank you.”

“Perhaps you would like something to nibble on?” The Newcomer holds out a canvas sack nestled in her palms like an offering. She tilts her head again, imploringly. Her slanted eyes stay trained on Birdie’s face and she has the irrational fear that the young woman can see inside of her head. 

Ridiculous, she thinks, leaning to see inside the proffered pouch. It looks like trail mix, a simple assortment of nuts and dried fruit. 

“Thank you for the offer,” she says, looking back up at the Newcomer, “but I’m allergic to peanuts.”

The Newcomer’s pout becomes a hard-pressed line. “Never mind,” she says, hugging the pouch to her chest. Birdie thinks she sees something spark within the Newcomer’s eyes, something green and acrid, but it’s gone in a flash. “Perhaps I can interest you in some strawberry cakes?”

Low blood sugar, Birdie thinks. That’s probably why my head feels so funny. For a moment, she considers accepting the offer. “Do they have dairy in them?”

“Pardon?” the Newcomer grits out between clenched teeth. 

“I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Right.” 

The Newcomer lowers her chin, her gimlet stare aimed at Birdie with such intensity that she finds herself taking a step back to appraise the odd woman fully. She’s slim—too slim, in Birdie’s opinion. She should spend more time eating her own food than offering it to random strangers. 

“Well, perhaps I can ensnare you with—”

“Ensnare?”

“A figure of speech.” Again, her lips spread into a smile, but it is wider than before, showing off a neat row of pearly white teeth. Birdie is startled by how sharp they look from this angle. Razor-sharp fine points, and there are far too many of them. A trick of the light, her brain supplies. 

The Newcomer continues, taking a step closer to Birdie as she schools her expression into the same serene sweetness she displayed when she first appeared. “I simply mean that you look a bit peaky, and could use a slice of bread drizzled in honey.”

Birdie smiles tightly. “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t eat gluten.”

The nuts in the canvas pouch crack as she squeezes it tightly and for a brief moment, she looks like she is going to stamp her foot against the earth. Birdie understands. Nature is not quite as welcoming as she was led to believe it was, either. 

“Well, what do you eat?” the Newcomer asks harshly. 

Birdie shrugs. “I could go for a vegan breakfast taco.”

The woman sighs, dropping her head backward to look up at the sky. Her water-hair cascades down her back and Birdie blinks at the shimmering silhouette of two oblong shapes fluttering around the Newcomer’s lithe form. Blurry. It’s just some blurry trees. She reminds herself to make that appointment with the eye doctor. She’s been putting it off for too long. 

“They have no taste anymore,” the Newcomer says to the tree limbs above. The leaves shake, a rattling reply, a hoarse whisper of agreement.

Just the wind, Birdie’s brain supplies. Not a reply. Trees don’t listen and they certainly don’t talk. 

And yes, there it is—another gentle breeze, lifting a few tendrils of hair that have slipped loose from her ponytail. They tickle her cheek, and she tucks the offending strands behind her ears. A magpie lands on the branch above and gives off a loud chattering noise. She clicks her tongue at the bird and massages her temples where a sharp piercing pain is beginning to bloom. She’s trying to remember why she stopped walking. How many drinks did she have last night? Surely this is a hangover. Who in their right mind goes hiking with a hangover? She’s never going to take Alice up on a hike again. 

With a heavy sigh, she begins walking again, calling out her sister’s name one last time. She’s coming around the first bend in the trail when she spots the bouncing ponytail and slim silhouette of her sister up ahead. A wave of relief washes over her, and she jogs to catch up. 

“You jerk,” she says, breathily. “Leaving me behind like that.”

Alice just shrugs. “I can’t help it if I’m in better shape than you.”

Birdie tuts and hits her sister’s arm with the back of her hand. “Whatever. I just got a sudden craving for breakfast tacos. Let’s skip the hike and stop by that taco truck on the way home, yeah?”