Old Ethel was wiping away tears that ran down her pale, deeplylined cheeks. Every now and then shed fling her arms about, mumbling nonsense, sounding like a babbling infant. The men in the crowd would scratch their heads watching her, and the women around her tried hard to make sense of the old woman.
Since dawn, driven mad by grief, Ethel had been running through the hamlet, banging on windows and wailing. Shed always been a quiet sort, and seemed a little out of touch with the world. Folks kept their distance, not out of spite, just because they didnt know what to do with her. They sent for Freddie, the village drunk and joker, the only one whod ever set foot inside Ethels cottage and helped with chores in exchange for a supper and a bottle of cheap gin.
Freddie finally shuffled in, still halfdrunk from the night before, squeezing past the crowd that had gathered around Ethel. The old lady lunged at him, sobbing and gesturing wildly. He was the only one who could understand her. When she finished, Freddies face went as dark as a storm cloud. He tipped his cap back and stared at the expectant villagers.
Come on, spill it! someone shouted from the crowd.
Little Mollies gone missing! Freddie blurted out, referring to Ethels sevenyearold granddaughter.
What? When? the women gasped.
The mother took her away in the night! a nervous man stammered.
A murmur rippled through the gathering. The women crossed themselves; the men lit cigarettes, eyes darting.
Surely a dead woman cant kidnap a child, one villager scoffed, unwilling to believe it.
Everyone knew that three months earlier, Mollies mother, Grace, had drowned in the marshes. Grace, like Ethel, had been mute from birth. Shed gone berrypicking with the women, got lost, sank into a quagmire and could only moan for help. Who could have heard her? Mollie was left an orphan, a heavy burden for old Ethel. There was no father to speak of. Rumour had it the dead mother kept the secret of Mollies birth and took it to the grave. Some whispered that a lad called Fiddler might have been the father a young single man who knew the cottage well. Hed always denied it, saying there was nothing to it.
Ethel wailed again, flailing her arms.
Whats she saying? the curious women whispered. Freddie?
Shes telling us how the dead mother would come to the house every night. Ethel lit candles, drew crosses over doors and windows, trying to shield herself and the child from some unholy force. Grace kept watching, leaning on door frames, peeking in, calling her daughter softly. One night the pale, lifeless face of the dead appeared at the window, lips whispering, drawing Mollie out. Ethel tried to push the curious girl away, but the spectre slipped the curtain aside and, while Ethel dozed off, snatched Mollie away.
Freddie wiped the sweat from his brow and added, Weve got to find her!
The men grunted, grabbed their rifles and dogs, and scattered. Freddie, still feeling the hangover, hurried home to gear up for the search.
Soon the groups split. First they combed the yards, then the churchyard, finding nothing. The only lead left was the marsh where Grace had died. After a quick smoke, they set off.
At the edge of the woods they spotted tiny barefoot prints. The dogs barked and darted into the thicket, weaving back and forth as if being led astray. As twilight deepened, the hounds panted and collapsed, exhausted, and their owners fell beside them. The younger, hardier lads pressed on toward the bog.
Hope slipped away with each passing minute. Freddie tread carefully, fearing the mud would swallow him, but he pressed on, losing track of the others. He knew the marsh well enough to keep going.
Where are you, Mollie? he croaked, peering into the mire.
A few hundred metres away a rusty cry echoed. A massive black raven perched on a pine branch, eyes glinting, watching.
Caw! Caw! it croaked ominously.
Freddies heart thumped. Something in the birds call pulled him forward. He hurried to the pine, and at its base, curled in the soft moss, lay a little girl.
Mollie! he whispered, trying not to frighten her.
She opened her eyes, stared straight at him.
Alive! he breathed with relief, tearing off his shirt and wrapping it around her.
How did you end up here? he asked, still shocked.
Mollie, who, like her mother and grandmother, was mute, answered in a thin voice.
I came with Mum, she said suddenly.
Freddies eyes widened.
Miracles! he exclaimed, scooping her up and hurrying away from the bog.
Girl, say something else, he urged.
Mums become the wife of a swamp spirit. He wanted to take me to his new home, but someone stopped him.
Who stopped him? Freddie asked, confused.
My granddad. Hes old, strong, wise. Folks call him the Green Man. He scolded Mum, saying Dont doom your own child! He said I shouldnt stay in the marsh. Ill live, Ill be useful, to the forest and to him.
He shivered as a thin, tingling breeze brushed his lips. And what else did he tell you?
The trees can talk, the grasses whisper. And youre my dad now, love, the girl blurted out.
Freddie froze, then gently set her down. He knelt, looking at her freckled face.
Did the old man really tell you that?
Yes! she nodded, slipping her arms around his neck.
He gave her a tentative hug, his breath catching. Could she really be my?
He thought of the one night hed once been with Grace, how shed vanished after that. Hed tried to forget, but the memory lingered. Now, looking at Mollie, he felt something click.
She stepped back, held out a hand, and opened her fist. In her palm was a bright red berry.
Eat it, she said. The Green Man said so.
Freddie obediently bit the berry.
Its sour, he grimaced.
From now on youll quit the gin, she declared, pulling him toward home.
Freddie smirked secretly. Could he really give up his nightly dram? He didnt trust the girls words, but he tried anyway.
He did stop drinking. He settled down, raised Mollie as his own, and she grew into a wise healer. She roamed the woods and marshes, gathering herbs and berries, always returning whole and unharmed, as if a guardian watched over her. Her reputation spread; folks came for cures, animals for aid, and she never turned anyone away.
