In the middle of a dense forest lived a young woman named Else and her father. The father, a lumberjack, was finding it harder to chop and replant trees as he aged. Ever caring, Else had taken to doing more tasks to keep their cottage running.
One day, Else was walking through the forest, humming a little tune as she held a pail in each hand. Her father awoke with back pain and she hoped a hot bath would ease it. Her humming stopped at the sound of panicked chirps – a baby bird had fallen from its nest.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Else said, leaning down and taking the chick into her palms. Stepping onto the tips of her feet, Else placed the chick back into its nest before continuing on to the river. After she placed the pails in the river and watched them fill, she found it difficult to lift them.
“May I help?” a voice asked.
Else whipped her head around. To greet her was no one at all. Just the imposing, dark trees of the forest. Only, as she kept looking, did she begin to make out a form. A form of a young man with eyes as bright as fireflies and hair as green as ferns. His body looked as sturdy, and his complexion as dark, as the trees he stood amongst.
“Who are you?” Else asked.
“Jacob,” he answered.
“What are you?”
“I am the forest, and the forest is me,” he replied.
“Why have you come?”
“I heard the hum of your voice, felt the softness of your step, and saw your gentle hand help a chick. You are unlike the other humans that come and go. I wish to help you.”
And he did. Taking the pails, he filled them and held them steadily by his side. The two walked back along the path in silence that was only broken by the buzz of insects and pitter patter of critters. Finally, they reached the cottage.
“Well, thank you. I suppose this is goodbye.” Else murmured, turning and stepping foot into her home.
“Humming girl, what is your name?” Jacob asked before she could close the door.
“Else,”
“Else,” Jacob repeated, before his firefly-yellow eyes gleamed up to hers. “Else, I wish to see you again. To know you.”
That evening marked the beginning of a friendship of sorts. For after the day’s chores were finished, Else met Jacob in the forest. Jacob would introduce her to his friends – the marten, the elk, and even the fox family that lived near the river. On sunny days they’d lay in patches of grass as Else hummed and Jacob weaved her a crown of flowers. When it was rainy, they sought shelter beneath the forest’s canopy. Else brought with her jam-filled donuts and teased Jacob for the mess he’d make. Jacob interrupted by holding her high in the air until her giggled pleas to be put down were answered. The two grew closer and closer, from strangers to friends to something more. One day, just before it came time for Else to return home, she placed her lips upon Jacob’s. Feeling something so warm and soft against his lips was unfamiliar to Jacob, but it made him feel as if the sun had chosen him specifically to shine upon. Else and Jacob had walked to her home that day hand in hand.
Meanwhile, Else’s father grew weaker and weaker. He found the task of chopping down and replanting trees too difficult. So, he decided to sell his land. The money earned would provide for the family and perhaps allow them to pay for another to care for him. That way, he reasoned, Else would not have to work so hard. Whatever coin was left would go to her once he was gone.
Else awoke one day to the stomps of feet, deep yells of men, and deafening crashes as great trees fell. She found twenty or so men chopping and slicing in the forest. Around them were fallen logs and crushed plants. Even the stomped remains of an old bird nest. The beauty of nature, the colorful plants, rich smelling soil, and sounds of animals were replaced by this human project. The wood from the forest would go to building new, solid ships for trade, warming homes, and providing paper for bibles and books. Animal meat would fill bellies and fur would be used for hats, mittens, and stylish coats. The land would be transformed into farmland. A shiver ran down Else’s spine as she watched the forest dwindle.
What of Jacob?
A cry escaped Else’s lips and before she realized it, she scampered over the trampled green. Her legs propelled her into the forest. She ran and ran, calling out for Jacob. However, no matter the direction she called or flung her head, she could not find his firefly eyes. Only after she ran till she was out of breath and all she could hear was the thumping of her heart did she finally catch a faint glow. Jacob lay beneath a tree. His once healthy, strong body now looked sick and weak.
“Jacob!” Else shrieked and fell to his side. She took him into her arms and laid his head on her lap. Jacob’s breathing was scattered and rough.
“Please, hum to me once more,” he croaked. Else did. A soft, sad tune escaped her. Jacob’s eyelids grew so heavy that even his best attempts at gazing up at Else were in vain. The dampened glow of his eyes were covered entirely. The chopping of wood and shouts of man grew closer, getting to the point where Else could no longer hear herself. Yet she continued. After the men were finished, all that lay in Else’s lap was a log. A log littered with teardrops. This too the men would take.
The forest, and those that had called it home, were gone for good.
Writer | Sydney L. Harris ’26 | sharris26@amherst.edu
Editor | Edwyn Choi ’27 | ehchoi27@amherst.edu