A woman headed out into the woods to look for her missing daughter. The forest began to turn dark, with shadows swallowing the leaves and darkness hungry to devour all in its grasp. The girl had not returned home, and the rain splattered the woman's face, combining to form rivulets trickling down the tracks on her aging skin to drip from her warty chin.

She scraped her arm on a withered tree that reached to grab her. Muddy puddles permeated with the smell of decay formed on the forest floor, and the suction gripped her left foot as if goblins pulled her under.

In frustration, she screamed to the moon, her head tilted back, as if she was a wolf howling at the celestial body. The moon's answer lost in the pouring rain. She freed her leg and crawled to a tree, searching for any light through the forest.

"Where is she?" Her irritated scream, deep, throaty, animalistic, was lost in the night. The old woman turned left, then right. She tore a strip of her skirt off and tied it on a low-hanging evergreen branch. The trek continued, always leading back to her faded piece of cloth. Should she go home? Had her daughter returned by now?

She traveled slowly, winding through the trees, the small, rutted path farther and farther away as the rain obscured her vision. What little concern she actually held for her daughter changed to anger as the cold seeped through her drenched clothing. Soon, her blinding rage consumed her sense of direction. The more she thought about her daughter out in the woods with her constant love of the landscape and all the animals she brought home to nurse, the angrier the old woman became.

She allowed herself a respite, pausing under an ancient pine to catch her raspy breath, oblivious to the clouds relieving themselves in pelting waves. Her gnarled hands slid up and down the knotty bark, small splinters lodging in her palms. She turned and pressed her back into the trunk and gently lowered her massive body to the earth. She slept in fits through the night as the storm raged on. She dreamed of her daughter wrapped in warm, heavy blankets, a crackling fire warming a dimly lit room.

Confusion bathed her brain when she awoke as she tried to figure out what to do. The sun's rays scattered a speckled pattern on the sloppy forest floor. As the ground fog lifted and the rain fell, she rose and restarted the journey to find her.

Midmorning, just as light stretched to the forest floor, a clearing opened and encircled a small cottage. A tendril of grey-silver smoke meandered up from the chimney. She watched. She thought her daughter peeked out from the parted dark blue curtains. The heavens opened further, and thunder rolled east to west across the blue-green-orange sky. The old woman was startled and looked up. When she returned her gaze to the house, it stood farther away.

The mother walked all day in the unrelenting rain and never reached the cottage. She was no longer close enough to see movement from behind those curtains. At times, it appeared the storm would pass, but the pause was too brief to dry her bones.

She changed her strategy, giving up on a straight approach to the house. With each attempt, she made a wide, round path and ever-smaller circles, trying to reach the elusive mirage. The rain taunted her, and her anger became hatred. She cursed the girl and the misery she caused.

The silent, majestic trees stood beautifully gilded in the sunlight, silver reflecting from the raindrops on their leaves. They absorbed the woman's curse and darkened her course further.

She endured another miserable night, regretting that she had ever gone out to look for her daughter. When the sun rose, the trees moved their branches in a well-choreographed dance, allowing the rays to reach the old woman's grey, leathered skin. She did not stir, look for her daughter, or draw a breath.

Decades passed, and the trees flourished. Their roots traveled deep into the rich, loamy earth, extending far from their original source and collecting everything in their path.

By the time the young girl was an older woman herself, she knew every species of tree, shrub, flower, and wildlife. She thrived in their beauty. She left the cabin on a sunny, warm day for her daily walk, greeting all of her forest friends. She walked over gnarled fallen branches from a storm long ago, while her mother existed only as a petrified, twisted portion of the forest's roots.