inspired by Jeff Teubner's cryptic sig quote, "Be true to the little forest wench!"
The row of hooded figures enters the clearing, each one walking woodenly, without bending knees. The woman follows, hesitant, pulled forward by an unseen hand. Slowly they separate, each figure in turn spacing themself precisely equidistantly until they surround her in a circle. She stands rigid. The trees rustle in the background, she doesn't hear it. She hears only the beating of her heart and the whispered words of the circle.
She can't quite make out the syllables, maybe numbers? "six oooohsix six six ooooo seven seven six ooooo four twooooooo." She shivers. The figures are identical, all the same height, all wearing the same brown robe. One steps forward, grabs her hand. The voice is androgynous. A hand cupped as if to hold a bowl encircles her chin. She holds still as lipstick is clumsily smeared across her face. She gasps as the hand tugs at her ponytail, tugs harder, then in a movement so swift it feels as a single second, her hair is shorn. her hands are grasped and formed into the same open C shape as the leader.
He whispers "Do you swear to cherish the forest?" She answers yes. "Do you swear to dwell in the hidden shadows of the leaves and the trees?" She answers yes. The voice louder now, "Do you swear to live as one with nature and the living force?" She almost cries out loud "Yes!" Ropes encircle her waist, tug tighter, tighter still, a corset hugs her waist, enhances her maidenly form, and she bends at the waist to lean forward as a green kerchief is tied about her bare scalp. She stands again as the clearing explodes with whoops and huzzahs as the other figures cast off the drab rough robes to show bright green frocks and crisp green trousers. The hoods are thrown back to show uniform smiling faces, some in green caps, others in brown. They circle her and hug her, welcoming her to the clan. Another forest wench is born.
too much caffeine again minx? ack!