The forest held its breath.
One Step Back
Dorian had a plan for finding the carved stone in the forest.
He would follow the stream to the ruined temple, copy the inscription, and leave before sunset. If he heard anything unusual, he would close his eyes. He had heard enough stories about Medusa to know that much.
The first part of the plan went well.
He found the stream, crossed it on three mossy stones, and reached a stretch of marble floor beneath the trees. Beyond it stood the remains of an archway.
Then something moved behind him.
Dorian closed his eyes.
“Who’s there?” he called.
There was no answer.
He took one careful step backwards.
“Stop,” said a woman’s voice.
Dorian stopped.
“Don’t move.”
He tightened his grip on his walking stick. “Are you Medusa?”
“Yes.”
He kept his eyes firmly shut.
“That seems sensible,” she said. “Now keep your feet where they are.”
A Voice Behind the Stone
Dorian could hear water nearby, though it sounded farther below him than it had a moment ago.
“I don’t want any trouble,” he said.
“Then you should have stopped one step earlier.”
He considered this. “Is there something behind me?”
“The edge of the floor.”
Dorian held his walking stick out behind him. Its tip met nothing.
“How far down?”
“Far enough that I would prefer not to watch you fall.”
He drew the stick back. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
A pebble struck the marble beside him. It bounced once, then again, before dropping into the space behind his heels. A moment later, he heard it strike the water.
Dorian stood very still.
“You might have mentioned that sooner,” he said.
“I did.”
“I meant before I stepped backwards.”
“I wasn’t aware that was part of your plan.”
Dorian opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Medusa stood behind a broad fallen stone, where he could not see her even if he opened his eyes. She looked at the broken floor between them. A branch lay beside the archway, long enough to reach him if she pushed it across the marble.
“Can you hear me clearly?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Then keep listening.”
The Long Branch
Dorian heard something scrape over the stone.
“A branch is coming towards your left foot,” Medusa said. “You can open your eyes and look down. I’m behind the large stone.”
He opened them cautiously. The branch stopped beside his boot.
“Hold that end,” she said.
He took it in one hand, keeping the other around his walking stick.
“Now move your left foot to the side. Slowly.”
He slid his boot over the marble until it touched something solid.
“There’s a rock,” he said.
“I know. I put it there.”
“When?”
“Before you arrived. I use it to remember where the floor ends.”
“It might have helped me too.”
“You stepped over it.”
Dorian glanced at the rock. Mud from his boot marked one side.
“That does look possible.”
“Put your weight on that foot,” Medusa said. “Then bring the other one across.”
He did as she instructed. The branch shifted slightly in his hand, but Medusa held the far end steady.
“Now walk forward until you reach the tree.”
Dorian took three steps. Beneath his boots, marble gave way to firm soil. He let out a long breath and leaned against the trunk.
“Are you all right?” Medusa asked.
“Yes. I think my plan needs another step.”
“Perhaps one that goes forward.”
What Remained in the Forest
Dorian explained why he had come. His teacher had given him a sketch of an old inscription and asked him to make a copy if he could find it.
“Near the stream?” Medusa asked.
“That’s what I was told.”
“There’s a flat stone below the arch. Most of the writing has worn away, but you may find a few lines.”
Dorian approached the archway, keeping his eyes on the ground ahead. The stone was half-covered in moss. He knelt, brushed a little of it aside, and found shallow marks beneath.
“Can I move it into the light?” he called.
“You can try. But one corner cracked last winter.”
He put his hands on either side of the stone, then stopped. The crack ran farther than he had first seen.
Instead, he took paper and a soft pencil from his bag. He worked slowly, copying each line he could make out. When the light shifted, he waited for the leaves above him to move.
At last, he stood.
“Did you find what you came for?” Medusa asked.
“Some of it. My teacher will have to be satisfied with the parts I could read.”
He went back to the fallen stone and held out the branch without looking over it.
“Where would you like this?”
“Leave it near the edge.”
“In case someone else walks backwards?”
“In case someone else has a plan.”
Dorian laid the branch beside the rock and thanked her. He followed the stream out of the ruins, keeping the water in sight.
When he reached the three mossy stones, he looked down before stepping onto the first.
Behind him, a pebble fell from the broken floor and tapped the water.
He did not turn around.
Livora Gracely ♥
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