As Katja set foot on the opposite shore of the Neckar River, closer to the Schwarzwald than she'd ever been before, she kept waiting for something terrible to happen.

Would the air smell different?

Would things look and sound like nothing she'd ever experienced before?

Would she even be allowed to enter the forest?

Wolf, having no such qualms, trotted over to where the forest began and sniffed the ground.

"Well, the Waldkonig won't be difficult to track," he said. "I'm assuming we'll be going deep into the forest, but I'll keep an eye...er, nose...on the scent."

"That sounds good to me," agreed Katja. "Do you have any idea how long it might take?"

"I haven't been in the forest in a long time," reminded Wolf, "but to reach the deepest part of it from here, most likely a week, possibly a bit less. Traveling by day seems the safest, although," he glanced up at her, "I'm not sure there's any safety to be found in the Schwarzwald these days."

Katja nodded, staring ahead into the thick greenery before them, branches dripping with moss as vines tightened their curling grip around thick tree trunks.

This was it. There was no turning back.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto a shadow cast by one of the trees, before taking another step, and then another, until she was standing beneath the tree, every inch of her within the forbidden boundaries of the Black Forest.

Part of her was ready for a tree limb to shoot out and slap her back into the sunlight or some monster to suddenly appear made of twigs, tar, and vines, demanding she leave. She was surprised and even mildly disappointed when a bird sang out nearby, and the leaves rustled overhead.

Was the Schwarzwald really no different than the forest behind the castle where she'd gathered berries before?

Looking at a gnarled tree in front of her, Katja placed her palm against the peeling bark. It was brittle and scratchy against her skin, and she thought of all the hours she'd stared out her window, wondering what it would feel like to stand where she wasn't supposed to, to cross the bridge and enter a world forbidden to her kind.

And now, here she stood, waiting, wondering, excited, and terrified about what she might discover.

And that's when she saw it—the bark on the tree rippled.

She blinked, trying to clear her vision, recalling stories of the forest playing tricks on the senses, but there it was again! The bark rippled outwards and upwards, lifting and falling, scattering light in different directions as the entire tree quivered.

Watching the ever-widening circles rippling out from her hand caused something inside Katja to stir, a bloom poking its head above the soil for the first time, squinting against the sunlight, drawing its first deep breath, aware of a thousand things it had never experienced before.

Katja had always been able to sense the forest, but now, she found herself connected to it. Through where her hand rested against the tree, she could feel not only the individual tree itself, but those it was connected to through its root system, the other plants and mosses and fungi growing alongside it.

She could feel the forest breathing, inhaling and exhaling, could feel it shifting, parts that had been sleeping awakening, everything within turning its attention towards her. She could sense it as intimately as she could feel the metal she worked with.

She was surprised at the forest's curiosity as much as it was surprised by hers, since it wasn't used to people seeking to connect with it and had long since resigned itself to merely being experienced rather than sharing experiences with others.

Closing her eyes, Katja opened herself up to the scrutiny of the forest, allowing herself to be as vulnerable with the trees, plants, and flowers as she was with metal. She felt herself being considered and studied, but whatever the forest uncovered within her, it must have liked, or at least decided wasn't threatening because to her complete surprise, she heard the first notes of music...faint, at first, but growing steadily louder.

The forest had its own symphony, created by the addition of hundreds of thousands of individual songs from everything that lived within it. The Schwarzwald was ancient and filled with so many memories, Katja thought she could stand there listening for the rest of her life and never properly hear every note of every song.

"I can hear them," she said softly to Wolf. "How is that possible? I have an affinity for metal."

"Have you ever heard trees or plants before?" asked Wolf.

While Katja hated telling him the truth, she also never considered lying to him.

"I had an experience with a flower during affinity testing," she admitted. "I healed it, or at least, I thought I did, but I knew a witch couldn't have more than one affinity, and I didn't want to be any different than I already was, so...I never said anything about it. I never tried to find out if it was real because I was afraid what it might mean if it was true."

Letting out a shaky breath, she added, "I've never even read about such a thing!"

"Then perhaps you need to write a new book to expand the discussion," grinned Wolf, wiggling his silver eyebrows at her. "Of course," he added, cocking his head to one side as his expression turned serious, "it's also possible you're simply the most powerful witch to exist in a very, very long time...or ever."

Katja shook her head, refusing to accept such a possibility. "It's more likely there's something wrong with me. If normal witches only have one affinity, of course I'd be the one to have two. Perhaps that's why the Seers can't see me or my future."

Wolf was quiet for a moment, weighing his words before he finally offered, "I know you want to fit in and be like everyone else in the Hexen, but have you ever considered perhaps you aren't meant to be? What if you're different for a reason—because you're meant to be more? Because there's something out there only you're going to be able to do?"

Everything inside Katja rebelled at the idea. She'd spent her entire life trying to fit in, to prove she was just like the other witches in the coven. She hadn't accepted being different then and she wasn't about to accept it now; the thought of doing so frightened her on such a deep level, she wasn't certain she could put her fear into words.

She only knew she couldn't have tried so hard for so long just to have all her efforts at fitting in mean nothing. No matter what Wolf thought, being different was never a good thing.

Rather than answer, she crouched down and studied a vine winding itself around a large rock. From its bright red stems to emerald-green leaves, it looked like part of what she'd seen wrapped around the bridge earlier.

Reaching out, she pressed her fingertips against the vine, listening to the music within, a melody that began small, then grew, chronicling the vine's growth, as well as its pain and surprise when part of it had been destroyed, turned to ash by a spell just as Katja had feared.

Katja listened to the song all the way through, knowing from her work with metal that often the best thing you could do was simply bear witness to something else's experience, acknowledging what had occurred and accepting she couldn't change the outcome, regardless of much she'd like to.

I'm so sorry, she finally whispered when the song ended.

She trailed her fingers down the vine before gently stroking one of the larger leaves, letting a melody of apology and grief flow through her fingers. The vine simply listened at first, but it soon shared its music again, and together the two melodies began to intertwine, weaving around one another, exchanging notes, and creating a new song together.

As Katja watched, the leaves on the vine began to grow brighter, and the rope-like trunk grew thicker, green tendrils blossoming and unfurling outwards. She stared in amazement. Creating with a living object was different than creating with metal...with metal, there was the sense of things being released from storage, but other than memories, there wasn't really anything else there.

With the vine, though, Katja could sense its connection to the greater world at large, its ability to siphon from something outside itself, to pull energy from a shared storehouse so vast, she couldn't even begin to sense the boundaries of it.

Katja was also acutely aware of the difference between co-creating something and healing something, making it stronger, more resilient, better prepared for the next adversity it faced. It was intoxicating and for a moment, she felt light-headed, thrown off-balance by the sheer power coursing through her.

"I wonder if this is part of what the Waldkonig feels," she said, bidding farewell to the vine before standing back up. "To be so connected to every single thing within the forest..."

Her voice trailed off as another thought occurred to her. "Do you think I could send him a message?" she asked Wolf. "Using the trees or the plants somehow?"

"I think a better question might be, should you send a message to the being who banished your kind from his forest centuries ago?" replied Wolf. "Most likely he already knows we're here, but if he doesn't, shouldn't we enjoy the anonymity while we can?"

Truthfully, Katja wasn't certain which was worse—alerting an ancient enemy of her presence when he wasn't aware she was trespassing or informing him of her presence out of a desire to be polite and making herself an instant target of his wrath.

"If he's going to throw us out, I'd rather him do it sooner than later," she ultimately decided. "Aside from the stories you've told me, have you ever heard of anyone actually summoning the Waldkonig or communicating with him in any way?"

Wolf was silent, and when Katja turned to make sure he'd heard her, he was staring at the ground, lost in thought.

"Wolf?" she asked gently. "Are you alright?"

Wolf raised his head and, for a moment, she thought his amber eyes might have been filled with tears, but he blinked a few times, and his gaze was clear.

"I was always told the Waldkonig could be summoned by offering blood and some sort of sacrifice," Wolf said, making Katja's stomach knot. "But that was for non-magical people," he quickly added. "Given your connection with the forest, I'm sure you can reach him in a less...gruesome...way."

Katja drew an uncertain breath and walked over to the largest tree in the vicinity, a massive oak with branches spreading upwards and outwards like a canopy. After introducing herself and accepting the oak's introduction, Katja explained what she wished to do and, thankfully, the oak assured her such a thing was quite possible.

Suddenly nervous at the thought of addressing such a powerful being, Katja mentally reviewed appropriate phrases for reaching out to royalty without having been invited to do so.

Finally settling on what she wanted to say, she took a deep breath, and shared her thoughts, sending them deep into the tree to be carried...somewhere.

Hail, Waldkonig of the Schwarzwald. My name is Katja Verrun, and I would speak with you, if you would so allow.

For a moment, the only sound she heard was her thumping heart. She waited, but soon began to feel silly standing there with her hand against a tree. Just because she appeared to have some affinity for communicating with the forest didn't mean she could do something she'd never done before, initiating contact with the Forest King himself.

Katja's shoulders slumped in disappointment, and she started to lower her hand to her side...only to freeze as she heard something she hadn't really expected to hear. The voice sounded far away, but she listened closely.

I wish to speak with you, too, said the deep voice, proud and clear. I shall be waiting in the heart of the Schwarzwald.

After thanking the tree for its assistance, Katja studied her hand, surprised it hadn't become covered in bark or reshaped as a blooming flower to offer evidence of her connection to the forest.

"He responded," she said to Wolf, whose eyes widened as she conveyed what she'd said and heard in response.

"Well, at least he didn't throw you out," Wolf noted. "That's a good sign."

"Do you know where he's talking about—the heart of the forest?" asked Katja.

"I have a pretty good idea," replied Wolf evasively.

Something seemed to be bothering him, but then again, it was understandable that returning to his childhood home, the setting for both the best and worst of his memories, would be troubling. Still, Katja decided to keep a close eye on him to determine whether it was anything beyond that.

As they walked further into the forest, it was difficult not to stop and touch every tree, plant, and flower they passed, as Katja could feel them pulling at her consciousness. A few times she simply couldn't stop herself and bent down to press her hand against the forest floor, amazed at the life teeming there and the songs of tiny creatures with either breathtakingly short or excessively long lifetimes, adding their own music to the wooded symphony.

While touching a large boulder slowly being covered by thick yellow moss, she sensed metal beneath her feet, which led to her discovering a vein of silver running deep beneath the tree and plant roots. The silver was doing its best to avoid the living roots but also expressed gratitude at the roots' ability to move in a different direction, since it was decidedly less mobile.

"The Schwarzwald is nothing like I expected it to be," she said to Wolf.

At first she was worried he would quickly tire of her enthusiasm over her discoveries, but thankfully, he seemed pleased to see her reveling in the place he loved best.

They walked until the sun began to set, at which point Wolf suggested they stop and make camp for the night. The summer months were warm enough to render heavy bedding unnecessary, and Katja unrolled the waterproof blanket strapped to the top of her pack.

Sitting down on it, she let out a contented sigh, proud of herself for what she'd accomplished, before pulling off her shoes and socks and rubbing her feet as she checked for blisters.

They were camped on the edge of a small meadow, and as evening gave way to night, the sky above the clearing darkened into one of the most beautiful sights Katja had ever seen. The stars were so close and so bright! They looked as if someone had gathered up the tiny bits of metal that collected on the floor when she filed down a rough iron edge, then scattered them generously over a swath of black velvet.

She blinked at the sky in awe, feeling both small and expansive at the same time.

"I've never slept outside before," she admitted to Wolf as they settled in. "It almost feels like I'm doing something I shouldn't."

"You mean besides being in a forbidden forest, I take it?" replied Wolf, which made Katja smile.

"Yes," she chuckled, "besides that."

"I'll keep watch," assured Wolf. "I don't need much sleep anyway."

"I'm fine to take a turn," Katja protested, and after much discussion, Wolf finally agreed to wake her if he felt tired, as even he had to admit he wouldn't be much use as a tracker if he was too tired to pay careful attention to the scents he encountered.

As Katja closed her eyes, the sounds of nocturnal creatures just beginning to stir filled her ears, providing a lullaby of sorts. Reaching beside her, she placed a hand over a large tree root poking up through the ground.

Please, she thought, if it's not too much trouble, would you mind keeping watch over us? She hoped it wasn't too much of an imposition, but she wouldn't know if she didn't ask. Wolf thinks he has to do this alone, but he doesn't.

We will keep watch, replied the tree in a calm, rumbling voice that immediately made Katja feel more relaxed.

Before she knew it, she'd drifted off to sleep, and as she slept she dreamed, strange dreams of flowers with silver stems and trees with broad gold trunks, of a world where the botanical combined with the metallic to create new, never-before-seen species of living organisms to populate the Schwarzwald.

At one point, she vaguely wondered if perhaps by communicating with the forest, she'd internalized some of their dreams, if they had such things, or perhaps even their memories, but the thought quickly slipped away, and when she woke, she was simply glad to have avoided her usual nightmares.

(Artwork by iplenio from Pixabay)