The Forest and Her Children

Azania spent most of her life without her family, with only smug and haughty masters as company. She escaped into the Forest and was welcomed by its embrace. And she wasn't the only one.

Azania made sure to not trample any plants as she made her way through the forest undergrowth. Around her the Forest glowed in various shades of green. There was warm dark brown and cool dry brown and birch white nestled among the green. The Forest loam was soft and from it arose herbs, grasses, shrubs, saplings, and trees of all sizes as well as mushrooms and fungi. Soil edged along half-decomposed tree roots that were covered in moss. Between the trees she could see the sky as it stretched bright blue. 

It would be a lie to say she was at peace here. She still held onto the grief she felt of missing her friends, who were more like family. She felt so bad about leaving them, her heart was overcome with worry. But she knew they understood. This had been her chance to get free and Azania had taken it. She loved her friends. More than life she loved them. But she couldn't stand the rest of it all. She couldn't stand the demands of her masters, the way they looked at her, the way they talked to her, the way they yelled at her. She couldn't stand knowing that they were the people who took her away from her family. She couldn't stand it when they bragged about her to their friends as if she was a shiny thing that they bought. She couldn't stand the crippling loneliness of that big house that swallowed her whole. She couldn't stand the quietness that enveloped the nights or the constant, crippling pressure of work, work, work and more work that enveloped the days. She couldn't f*****g stand it. She just couldn't. 

The adults in her life saw her as no-one, as nothing, as a shadow to be ordered around and used. And she hated it. It tore her up inside and left her screaming silently, drowning invisibly, bleeding in her mind and in her soul. But she was clever. She was good at lying. She was good at thinking outside of the box. She had a plan, a plan that took three long arduous years to accomplish. 

She pretended to be a perfect, meek, submissive, broken girl. She pretended to be emotionless and loyal and completely brainwashed. Until they trusted her. Until they trusted her completely. And then she took the money for buying groceries. And it was a lot of money. And smiled meekly and softly as she stepped outside the locked door - locked by a key she didn't have - to go to the store. And she bought a wooden snorkel with it, tied herself to a rock of carefully-measured weight, and threw herself in the River. She almost died. But she wouldn't have cared if she had died. This was the way to freedom. Eventually she felt the temperature of the water cool. That indicated that she was finally in the Forest. 

She kicked and swam until she found herself on shore. And it was the most beautiful place she had ever been in. Not beautiful like how a painting or a dress was beautiful. Beautiful like how the reflection of firelight in the mischief behind her friends' smiles were beautiful. Beautiful like how a gentle hand brushing over your own was beautiful. Beautiful like how a greeting embrace near the shared stairwell between different flats was beautiful. Beautiful like the songs she only half remembered and the stories she knew she must've once heard but now forgot. 

She cried. She cried like a lost child finally returning to the arms of their mother. She cried like a soldier coming back from a war. She cried like a farmer seeing rain clouds after a drought. She cried like a prisoner setting their first foot into freedom. She cried until the sky got dark and then she saw stars for the first time and she cried more. When the morning came she was cold, she was hungry, but she was free. She walked until she found a bush of berries. She hoped to the gods that they were edible. They were tasty and just a little bit sweet on her tongue so she assumed that they were. She gorged herself until her stomach hurt. She drank from a clear stream. She felt so light, so free, so calm. More than she ever had before. Yes her grief was still unimaginable, unbearable. But her joy was as well. 

She couldn't describe the way she ran with life and joy and beauty. It was the type of beauty that wasn't truely seen no. It was felt in her heart. The Forest held her like a mother. Like the mother she had had but barely remembered. The Forest held her like a lover. It hugged her like a child. It held her hand like a best friend. It flowed and moved and reached out all around her. She never knew it was possible to love a place before. She only thought you could love people. But she realized what it meant to love a place, to be loved by a place. Because in honesty you could only love what was alive. People were alive. And the Forest around her was alive. So very alive. It sang and hummed and shone and shadowed and moved and stood and flowed and danced with so much life. All in perfect harmony. As she couldn't help but be inspired, so inspired. 

She was still full of misery. Still full of grief. She was still beside herself with worry, with mind-numbing, crippling anxiety for her loved ones. But she was held more than she had ever been before. She was freer than she had ever been before. The Forest nurtured her, nourished her, soothed her, loved her, protected her, and wanted her like a mother and she couldn't even begin to process the emotions she was feeling right now. 

She though that maybe she should be scared. There might be predators here after all. She had no clothes, no weapons, no rope, no knowledge of survival. According to all logic she should die out here. But she didn't. She stumbled upon a berry patch every time she got hungry. She found clean, dry wood to make a fire as well as rocks to ring it and even spark rocks to start it. The stream was easy to follow. The day was neither too hot nor too cold. If she didn't know better she would say the the Forest was going out if it's way to protect her. She had always believed in magic. And now she did more than ever before. 

She found a warm patch of sunlight on soft dirt and curled up and went to sleep there like a cat. She woke up, stretched out, and moved to find the stream so that she could fill her cupped hands with the cool, clear water. 

Walking by the edge of the stream, she did however find a sight that brought fear into her. Pressed into the soft ground were the unmistakable tracks of a wolf. Well she thought they were at least, because they looked like a dog's tracks but much larger. They didn't scare her in and of themselves, no. They seemed like just another part of the Forest. But she knew what wolves were and she knew what they were capable of. And that scared her. Still she knew it would leave her well enough alone if she avoided it. She made her way the opposite direction as the tracks. The day was cooling down now, just marginally. She didn't feel like walking. She was overwhelmed. So once she put a bit of distance between herself and the wolf she lay down on a patch of dirt without any plants on it and she stared up at the sky. It was so bright, reaching up and up and up above her to who knows here. But not really. She couldn't describe what it was. Not at all. Even in her old life she could never describe the sky, never comprehend it. And she still couldn't. 

Maker, Azania spoke in her head, wherever you are, please keep my friends as safe as you can. Thank you for this. For all of this. I can see you in every piece of it. Thank you for holding me, Great Mother. Thank you for holding all of us who are suffering. I know you cannot take care of us in the way that you want to. I know that your reach only extends out so far. But I know you love us all and you always have and you always will and I thank you for it. I will keep your Land safe. I understand how it is a piece of you. Teach me how to care for your Land and how to respect it, protect it, and look after it. And I will. And please. How can I give back to you? You have protected me - no all of us - with your life and your blood and your tears and your joy and your rage and your pain and everything you have. And we must all take care of each other. I know. We are all a part of you. So how can I take care of your people? What should I do? I hurt so much. I long to go back and free my people. And I will. I know that the people are your people. All of us who live under the heel of suffering. I know that I swear to you that I will. But I do not yet know how. Give me strength. I have my freedom and with it I will give other people theirs. I swear it. 

Azania felt invigorated, now that she had a goal. She stood up and kept walking. 

Soon she heard a shrill cry, not unlike a newborn baby. Overcome with worry, she ran towards the source of the sound. She gasped at the sight. She hadn't been wrong. It was a newborn baby. Wrapped in the arms of a woman lying under a tree there was a newborn child, swaddled in a thin cotton cloth, crying. The woman's dress was soaked in blood. She was not moving. Holy f**k. Was she dead? Azania's heart thudded in her chest. So hard. Despite being surrounded by death in her old life, she had never seen death with her own eyes like this. When she cried they were not tears of joy, or mixed emotions, like they had been earlier that day. They were tears of pure, unshakable grief and sorrow. She knelt beside the child and mother, heart lead-heavy with sorrow. She touched a hand to her forehead, then her lips, then her chest, and then reached out to hover it over the mother, offering a silent prayer for her departed soul, so that she may finally be at peace and free now. Then she moved to quickly yet carefully pick up the baby, holding them softly in her arms. She cradled the baby girl - well they were probably a girl and she would just assume they were unless they said otherwise - in her arms and tried to get her to stop crying. But the baby continued crying. She quickly realized the baby was probably hungry. 

How would she feed the child? She had no idea. The child couldn't eat berries or roots or anything. The child needed milk. The child would die. She wouldn't be able to save her. The baby would die just as the mother had and she wouldn't be able to save her. No matter no no no f**k what would she do? She kneeled there, a newborn infant in her arms, panic racing like lightening through her heart. And she heard a haunting, piercing howl move through the air. 

The child stopped crying. The teenager whipped her head around to see what it was. There, standing only a yard away, was a wolf with silvery fur and pointed ears. The wolf looked at them, steadily, evenly. It was so much larger than she thought it would be. She could see how strong it was. How easily it could devour her if it wanted. And the child. She was very glad the baby had stopped crying. She held the child close to her and she didn't dare move. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, the wolf stalked closer to them. Azania didn't dare move. The baby looked at the wolf with big, round, ember-dark eyes. She didn't seem aware at all of the danger they were in but was rather mesmerized. 

The wolf was coming closer. It was coming closer. It was coming closer. Azania was frozen. She could not move. Soon enough the wolf was right beside them, its head just above their own. The wolf made no move to hurt them. Just silently nuzzled its nose into Azania's shoulder, then softly nuzzled the baby. So softly. The baby made a sweet gurgling noise at that. Azania was still afraid. Slowly the wolf stalked away, but only a couple of meters away, to a bush full of fat black berries. Azania watched it closely, with wary eyes. The wolf took a bundle of stalks in its mouth and pulled them off the bush. There were stems, leaves, and a dozen or so berries that came with. The wolf then walked over, with the berries in its mouth, to Azania and the child. Slowly it inched the berries nearer to Azania's face, until the leaves brushed her lips. And it waited there. She slowly, tentatively twisted her mouth around a berry and bit it off its stalk. It was ripe and full of juice. The wolf stayed until she ate all the berries. 

Azania cradled the baby close as the wolf slowly crouched down to nuzzle the child. The baby looked at the wolf and she cooed. She was so cute. She needed food. The The wolf nuzzled the baby again before lifting its eyes to meet Azania's for a moment. It lay down on its side and stayed there. Azania recognized this gesture from the way dogs at home would feed their pups. Was ... was the wolf offering to feed the baby? Azania did not fully understand what was happening but she was no longer afraid of the wolf. She didn't understand, but when she looked at the wolf she saw a strange, beautiful sort of power. Like lightening or a River rushing. She saw the sort of power and energy that permeated through the whole Forest, electrified and pulled into the form of the wolf before her. There was something deeply, fiercely protective about it. Something fiercely kind and nurturing, life-giving and loving. Nature was strange. The Maker was strange. Everything was. Azania was no longer scared anymore. She didn't understand. But she did feel in her heart that this was where she was meant to be. This was what she was meant to trust. She laid the baby next to the wolf and held her as she drank. This was so strange. But it was what was happening. Once the baby was full, and burped, she held her close and moved to stand up. The wolf stood up with her, and trotted a few step ahead of her. 

She followed it through the undergrowth, through the maze of green. And she thought to herself that this must be some strange gift from the Maker. Well, who was she to turn down a gift? Especially when - when the baby needed it. Hmm? What should she call the baby? She did not know. She knew names should mean something. That they should be significant. She knew the child was her salvation. Her pathway to her destiny, whatever it was supposed to be. The baby was beautiful. She had huge, piercing eyes and warm skin the colour of wood right on the verge of catching fire. She had a small button nose and soft little lips and fingers that were so so so tiny. She had her destiny spread out before her. All the rest of her life. She was free. And Azania would make sure she stayed that way. Azania would free everyone she could. 

Around her the Forest glowed like a haven as she walked carefully, making sure to keep the baby properly supported. The wolf walked slowly, keeping pace with her. The ground was uneven, but it was glorious. 

Soon enough they got to a place near the crest of a small hill, where where were about other adult wolves, and four pups. They were sharing meat and they all turned to look at Azania before they all came and nuzzled her. She moved to sit down and they nuzzled the baby as well. 

�"�"�"

She named the child Shayla. Shayla was a good child. She had eyes full of wonder and curiosity, empathy and kindness. She grew up strong, nourished in the love her birth mother gave her, the love Azania showered her with, the love her pack buried her in, and the love the forest blanketed her with. She was free. She was wild. She was happy. She was loud. She was inquisitive. She was caring. She was free to come into herself. 

Azania was so grateful for her pack. They had adopted her, adopted both of them, as if they were family. They cared for her and provided for her and her child. The first year with Shayla had been very busy. She had always been feeding her, with the help of their pack, or changing her, or washing her clothes, or rocking her to sleep or soothing her. That was when she wasn't making new clothes to match her constant growth. And through all that she had to find food for herself, too. The pack provided furs for her, from their kills. She just had to process them and put them together. The pack even gathered berries for her to eat. They all slept curled up together in each others' warmth. 

The next two years were much easier. The pack made sure Shayla stayed out of trouble, they took care of her just as they took care of their other pups. Azania had gotten much better at putting together clothes. She also helped the pack hunt, and looked after the pups. Her skills at running, stalking, tracking prey, and throwing spears had improved greatly. 

Shayla learned to talk. But also she learned to howl and bark and yip and chirp. She was full of questions, once she started talking. She loved the stars. She was full of new ideas. Most of them were adorable and hilarious. She was afraid of rain. She loved snuggling up with her pack. Especially with Auntie Silver, the wolf who found them that fateful day and saved her life. Shayla was like the spring, like a raging wildfire, and Azania thought she never saw a child so free before. Shayla was concerned. With the Forest and protecting it. With the wolves and protecting them. With the world outside the Forest and what it held, with everything. 

The whole while she was thinking of ways to help her people who were still stuck in slavery back in the place she came from, the place that was absolutely her homeland just as much as this place was her homeland. It wasn't easy escaping the masters. They had their guards that would watch over you. They had their police that would go chase you down. And they'd find you. She didn't know how she could go about saving people. She could tell people her idea, of using the River as a getaway car. But the problem with most of the slaves was that they had loved ones to think about and take care of. 

The thing about house slaves like her - like what she'd been before she got away - was that they were forced to live in isolation. The interaction they had with other slaves were always secret, hidden. Stolen moments on stairwells when sweeping and washing the stairs or the railings or the walls. Stolen moments when passing by each other on the stairs while delivering something or another. Stolen moments while waiting in line for the communal bathroom. Stolen moments while slipping away unnoticed at night. But no matter what, they made sure to keep their interactions a secret. They made sure to keep their connections a secret. Because what the masters knew they could exploit. And they would exploit. And they would use to destroy the slaves. And that included personal connections. It especially meant personal connections. The masters thought less of house slaves than they did of anyone else. Thought them incapable of love. So Azania knew her friends were safe. She knew of house slaves that had escaped before, and the slaves of neighbouring houses were never hurt on their account. 

But that was not true with the other slaves. The farm slaves, the factory slaves, the mine slaves, the transportation slaves, the construction slaves. All of them were allowed to form close networks of family and found family and friendship and the masters knew they had people they loved. This was a curse as much as it was a blessing. Because while the slaves were often technically allowed to go to the market or other places without supervision, they were never, ever able to escape. Because unless you could escape with all your loved ones, which was incredibly difficult if not impossible, the masters would kill your loved ones when they figured out that you left. 

Everyone would have to escape together or not at all. 

And she did not know how to do that. 

One day Shayla was four. The pack was out hunting. Shayla was with Azie picking dark purple berries. These were the same berries that had played such a pivotal role in their rescue. They had been talking and joking around as Azie kept an eye on Shayla who was wandering around more than she was picking berries. Well, she was four. 

"Mama! Mama!" 

"Yes Shayla?" 

"Auntie ... Auntie White find big tree!" Her eyes were full of excitement.

"Oh did she? That's great." 

"There birds in tree. And ... squirrel! But not us." 

"You're right. We aren't in trees. Humans can climb trees I think. But I've never really needed to and you're too small. And wolves can't climb trees at all." 

"But why?" She emphasized the why a lot.

"Because, baby girl, different animals do different things. Some animals climb trees. And some don't. Some animals fly. Some don't. Some go very fast. Some go slow. Some live in the water. Some live on land. Some live in the water sometimes and sometimes they're on land. Every animal is different. But they all are in the world and they all have a part to play." 

"Mama?" Her voice was so cute. It always was. 

"What?" 

"I got berries." 

"Great job! Put them in the bag." She gestured to the shoddily tied-together rabbit fur she put berries in. 

"No mama look." Azie turned around. These berries were bright orange. She had seen them before but refrained from eating them. The berries she did eat, she had previously encountered outside of the Forest. Occasionally a bush would grow in an alleyway and the slaves would eat from it in secret. Those berries were safe. These berries never grew outside the Forest and she had never encountered anyone eating them before. She didn't know if they were poisonous or not. 

"Shayla, no. Those berries are not good." 

"Try once? Please?!" She was really dead set on trying these new berries, wasn't she? 

"No Shayla. They could be dangerous." 

"But they could be good." 

"But maybe they're not. We already have so many yummy berries to eat." 

"Mum. Mum. Please." Aziania knelt down to look into her eyes. She was young. But that didn't at all change the fact that she was a bolt of lightening sent from the Maker. And right now her eyes seemed to glow with longing. Azania didn't know why but this was really important to Shayla. And she knew what she was talking about. 

"Alright. But not right now. After we reunite with the others, yeah?" 

"Sure." 

"Okay. 

They continued picking berries until their bags were full. Azania struggled to hold them all but when Shayla asked for a piggyback ride she let her get on. 

"Mama are we the only humans?" Shayla asked quietly, close to her ear. Her voice was solemn. Almost sad. 

"No honey." 

"But we are. I never seen other humans." 

"Do you want other humans? Are you lonely."

"I like you. And I like the pack. They're family. I'm a happy pup. But ... I want to know." 

"Shayla there are many other humans. Maybe, maybe even five hundred other humans." 

"Wow. That's so much. Where are they? I never seen them in the Forest once." 

"They're not in the Forest." 

"But the Forest is home." 

"Shayla ..." she hadn't planned on telling her daughter the truth so soon but she couldn't lie, "the other humans are trapped in a place far away from the Forest. And they're very sad. They have to work very very very very hard, too hard, with not enough rest. And, you and me and the pack, we work so that everyone has what they need to be healthy and strong, right? They have to work for no reason. Just so that the big mean bad guys can have stuff they don't need." 

"Mama?"

"Yes?" 

"We have to save them. We have to bring them to the Forest. The Forest is nice. They can be happy. Safe from the bads." Azania's heart stopped. She wanted to. Oh how she wanted to. But she didn't know how. 

They walked through the symphony of life until they found where Uncle Blue-Silver was taking care of the pups. Shayla let out a jubilant yip and immediately went to play. Azania crouched down and cuddled and snuggled the pups. After a while she left to go do some solo hunting. 

The sky was electric blue with twilight when Azania got back to the pack with a deer slung over her shoulder. She let the pack feast on the meat while she feasted on berries and then gathered the discarded furs for washing. 

Finally she got Auntie Silver's attention. She held out the orange berries in her hand, to see what the wolf would do. To her surprise Auntie Silver did nothing. She brought the berries closer to her own mouth, slowly, and then swallowed them under the light of the moon. They tasted a tiny bit sour, a little bit spicy. Not her favourite taste by far but they would make good seasoning. She didn't feel any different though. And she didn't feel any different when she fell asleep on the ground surrounded by warm bodies, with her baby in her arms. 

She woke up feeling strangely groggy. 

"Mama!" She heard Shayla yell as the small child flung herself into her. A couple of wolves also trotted up to her. 

"What?" 

"You were sleep for four sun cycles!" 

Well damn. 

Azania had an idea. She knew now, how she'd free her people. 

�"�"�" 

Azania walked through the undergrowth, making her way to the edge of the Forest. She had a bag full of dried berry powder. She held it carefully, making sure not to spill any. She knew she needed the cover of darkness, the cover of night to cloak her during her journey. A young woman wrapped in shoddily tied together animal pelts was sure to raise more than a few eyebrows and end in her arrest if she was discovered. She might still be discovered anyways. But her old clothes were ripped and worn and lost and her mission was more important than anything she had ever done. It didn't matter how dangerous it was. It didn't matter how terrified she was. She had to free her people. This was her chance. 

She had sought out Auntie Silver last week. As the suns was dipping below the horizon and the sky was painted with fire. They nuzzled and cuddled a bit. Azania kneeled in front of her. She asked,

"Auntie Silver. I'm going to go back to free my people. I'm going to bring them into the Forest. Do I have your blessing?" 

Auntie Silver had looked deep into Azania's eyes with her own bright gold ones. She nuzzled Azania's cheek, fondly. Then she lifted her head and howled into the burning sky, rich and bright and strong and triumphant. Azania smiled. 

"Thank you, Auntie. Again." 

She had made preparations immediately, embraced her pack in the unbridled way that wolves embrace, and blinked down her tears as she told Shayla she would always love her. And then she had walked into the twilight, knowing how much Shayla would miss her. 

Her plan was as well thought-out as a plan could be. She had to find a slave hovel that was near a shadowy alley. Most of them were. This would be no problem. She had to stay in the shadows where no armed guard would find her. This was easier said than done. But still, she had learned stealth from hunting and could move through the night silently. This was not something the wolves had taught her but rather something she had learned for herself. But the town, it was unfamiliar. Though she had grown up in it, it was far more unfamiliar than the Forest. Then she had to reach through the tight metal bars of the hovel windows. And she had to wake up a person. And explain to them the great things she had discovered. And how they could use it to set everyone free. She had to bury the bag so that they could secret it away. And then she had to revisit the town every few weeks or so, see how the plan was going. She had compete faith in the ability of the slaves to form a coordinated plan. If they had anything, they had unity. And resourcefulness. And the collective sort of ingenuity that came from not being beholden to convention. 

She felt hope. The Forest and her new family flowed through her soul and pumped bright in her veins. And her love for her old family - family that she never really left, not in her heart or in her soul - burned through her entire being. She was a shadow under the moon but she was also a torch lit with fire and she was ready to die for her cause. 

She would miss Shayla. And the rest of her family. Like the earth misses the rain during a drought she would miss them. But she knew Shayla would be cared for. And she knew she couldn't leave everyone else to suffer. 

She silently prayed as she walked through the familiar Forest. In a few short years, how on Earth had it become so familiar to her? How on Earth had she grown to trust and depend on it so much? How on Earth had she grown to love it more than life itself? No she hadn't grown to love it. She had loved it the moment she had set foot within its arms. She had loved it for longer than she'd been alive. And she had a duty to fulfill. The slaves were children of the Forest. Just as she and Shayla were. They meant to become free. Just as she and Shayla did. The Forest weeped for its lost children and Azania was the one tasked with returning them. 

She prayed as she found herself getting closer to the edge. The stretch that separated the Forest from the town was within sight now. Fear clenched her heart hard. She was loathe to leave. There were so any terrible memories tied to that place. So much pain, and suffering. And there would be more if she wasn't careful enough. She didn't want to go back to slavery. She didn't want to risk everything. She didn't want to leave. But she did want to. And she must. She gave herself a few minutes to cling to the comfort around her before taking the step that properly separated the world she was entering from the world she was leaving. 

�"�"�"

The town was bathed in the darkness of the new moon. There were large sprawling estates where the free people lived. There were the factories that ringed the south side of the town and pumped thick smog into the sky. There were the slave hovels that ringed the factories in neat, tightly-packed misery. The streets facing the doors were guarded by armed guards. But between the back of the huts, where the windows were, there was space narrow enough to crawl through. Just barely enough. But there was space. She stalked to the first block of huts she could find. She made no sound. Moved from shadow to shadow from the few trees to the walls of clay brick. She turned her body to the side and squeezed herself through the narrow space where there was a gap between two brick walls. The cold clay walls pressed on either side of her. But she managed to press through. She got out the vine she had inside her coat. It was the length of her arm. And it would easily reach a sleeping occupant inside one of the huts. 

She slipped it through a window, before reaching her arm down as far as she could and flicking her wrist. She felt so bad for waking a slave up. They needed all the rest they could get. She knew firsthand. But she was sure they'd understand. 

"Aah!" A voice, softer than she'd expected, called out into the night. 

"Hush!" Aziania stated with a bit of authority in her voice. 

"What the f**k?" 

"I'm sorry for waking you. My name's Azania. I used to be a slave but I escaped. I can help you escape too. I can help all of us." 

"What? Is this a dream?" He sounded tired and entranced and disbelieving all at once.

"No. No it's not. I swear." 

"I need to see you for myself." 

His face appeared behind the iron bars of the huts. He had dark skin that melted into the shadows and broad cheekbones and a small, pointed nose. 

"You're real," he said, with wonder in his voice. 

"I'm real." Azania smiled a little. "And I'm an escaped slave. I've been living in the Forest for four years. See?" She held up her fur-covered arm, "And I can get you all free." 

"How?" 

"The masters don't know what's in the Forest. They don't know all the gifts it can and wants to give us. There are berries. And I've made them into a powder. Eating even a spoonful of the powder will make anyone go to sleep for three or four days. We can use this." 

"Yes! If we dose all the masters with the powder. But we'll have to do it all at the same time. Maybe during some great festival. Then with no guards or anything around it will be so much easier to slip away." 

"Yes. But what about the door locks? If we poison them during a festival, that means that the doors will be locked. And also there will still be guards around."

"I'm sure we will will figure something out. Thank you for this."

"Please get the word out. I'll be back in a month. Check progress and stuff." 

"Yeah. You do that. Thanks." 

"Thank you." 

They both looked at each other. Neither person thought that the words they exchanged were big enough for the event that had just happened, for the pure, concentrated transcendence that they had shared. The moment was far too big to be put into words. Far too big to have words, or anything at all in the entire universe, even come close to doing it justice. They looked at each other and in each others' eyes they saw more than they could ever say. And under the light of the moon the tender bud of hope blossomed into a delicate flower. 

"Well," Azania started, her voice sounding like the evening wind, "I'll leave a sample of the powder buried under the window."

"Okay."

"I ... didn't get your name."

"My name's Marro."

"It's an honour Marro." Her voice was solemn and serious. The moon's glow reflected in her eyes. 

"Same." His voice was soft an airy yet dark and full of wonder. Like the wisps of a cloud passing by the harvest moon. 

�"�"�"

The boy told the slaves who lived near him, his voice all quiet whispers. He told the slaves who worked with him. He told the slaves at the market. They told everyone they could. In a few months almost all the slaves knew. They got to work planning and strategizing. They decided when to strike. How to strike. Who would do what. What tools they would need. How to procure those tools. And how to keep all of this a secret. 

In the meantime Azania came back once every month, at great personal risk, to drop off more and more of the powder. She heard their plans. Helped plan as well. And her heart soared. She gave them some tips for how to move through the Forest when it was finally time for them to pass into it. 

When. Not if. Her people would be free at last. 

In the meantime Shayla grew up into an adorable, curious, fierce little girl. She was happy. She was confident. She moved with the Forest like she was a part of the wind, like she was a stream of running water. She knew the plan. She knew that soon there would be more humans in the Forest. She was happy. The Forest was freedom. It was home. It was love. It was life. And she was excited to share her home and her love and her life with people who were fleeing for freedom and love and life. She wondered what other humans would be like. She resolved to teach them how to live in the Forest and respect the Forest and keep it healthy and safe like she did. 

In the meantime the pack hunted and roamed and played and cuddled. New pups were born. Old pups grew up. Wolves left the pack and new wolves joined. Life continued. The pack took care of their human members and raised Shayla as if she was one of their own. They ran and howled and tumbled with each other in the soft soil. 

In the meantime the slaves found a hope they could only long for before. They learned that it was much easier to feign submissiveness when you know that soon, soon enough the trap is going to spring. It was easier to hide mischievous smiles than it was to hide tears. The slaves always knew that. But they learned still that it was easier to hide pure and righteous malice. 

They stored the powder covered in newspaper underground. They managed to hide away bits of metal for picking locks. The factories would be opened first. And from them every single electric saw taken. And then it would only be a matter of hours before every single door was open. And a matter of two days before every single slave had passed into the freedom of the Forest. 

At the end of two years, it was time. 

�"�"�"

Shayla was up late, staring at the stars. Uncle Blue-Gray was with her. Around them the rest of the pack slept. 

Azania waited near the edge of the Forest to watch for anybody. 

Marro walked ghost-like and silent amongst the revelling party-goers in bright, shimmering clothes and thick, gem-studded jewellery. He wore a simple copper robe. They shouted at him and ordered him about as he silently exhausted himself getting drink after drink after drink. People talked and laughed and sang and danced. Marro worked and obeyed and kept quiet. 

The night went on an on and people got increasingly tired. It was time to strike. He rushed into the kitchen. Got a tray full of drinks. Spiced wine. The type of drink where the flavour of the berries would not be noticed at all. He flitted about as people ordered him to them. And he kept his face carefully blank as one by one the partygoers fell asleep. 

He knew that the few guards that were patrolling also partook of the food. That there would be slaves bringing them their own spiced wine or seasoned snacks. 

He waited until all was quiet. 

And then the other waiters smiled jubilantly, unrestrained. And he joined them. 

They hit the factories first, as they said they would. Picked at the locks and kept picking until they finally gave away. 

Soon enough electric saws were whirring and screaming at the doors to hovel after hovel after hovel while the lock picks worked on what locks they could. Every opened door saw new people picking up their own tools from the looted factories and helping open other doors.

And soon enough throngs of people, all who couldn't quite believe what was happening, were all walking towards the boarder. They walked as if they were somehow suddenly miraculously walking into the sky itself. 

�"�"�"

Azania knew a lot about how to live in the Forest. She taught the others. Shayla knew even more, somehow. Despite her young age, she had grown up in the midst of the Forest for her whole life. The Forest had raised her. And she knew how to ensure that the people and the Forest would be safe and healthy for all the new generations that the Forest would raise.

The other humans didn't live with the wolves. They lived in their own type of pack, wandering through the land. Azania and Shayla split their time between the human pack and the wolf pack. Both were their family. Neither was less important than the other. 

There was enough food. For the people there was enough good, healthy food. There was enough fresh, clean water. There was time to rest, time to play, time to dream. The children did not work. They played and they learned and they came to understand life and the land. Everyone had enough. No-one had too much. Everything was shared. People decided together how to do things, how society would be formed. 

Not that this even was a society at this point. It wasn't. People had been slaves for too long, have been held down under corrupt power structures for too long. They knew that they would never let the structures and hierarchies of a society overcome the freedom of the pack they had learned to create for themselves. 

Shayla grew into a healer and a wise woman. And she lived a long happy life amongst wolves and humans and trees and rivers and the bright blue of the sky before she gave herself over to the land to continue on the circle of life. 

And the masters never found them.

�"�"�"

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