Page 65 of The Woods

“Well, can’t wait to meet him on Halloween at our murder-house séance,” Sierra says, pumping a fist in the air before turning to help the customer.

Polly doesn’t mention that she hasn’t seen Gray in over a week. The longest he’s gone without coming to her window. Or that she is still traumatized by the night in the cave.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 27, 2023

Alice

Alice hadn’t planned on visiting the strange old woman, let alone unannounced. And yet, here she is, at the end of her work day, on the other side of the woods, pulling into a driveway with a mailbox marked Crowley. She blames the podcast. It’s made her question everything, and now she’s desperate for answers. She needs to know what the old woman knows.

The driveway is long, narrow, and meandering, reaching well into the woods. Alice couldn’t turn around even if she wanted to. Her sense of claustrophobia grows the farther in she drives. She only fully exhales when she spies through the trees a circular driveway in front of a two-story log cabin.

She doesn’t get out of the car right away, taking a few seconds to survey the property and make sure Ruth doesn’t come out with a shotgun. It’s a contrast to her own place with its expansive front and back lawns, swimming pool, cabins, and a larger, more updated home. This place has a modest front yard with wild gardens leaving only strips of grass to walk through. There are a couple of open-fronted shacks stacked with wood and a shed that leans so far to one side it’s resting up against a tree for support. A rusty green pickup is parked in the driveway.

Alice is just getting out of her car when the front door opens and Ruth Crowley appears. She’s wearing the same long brown dress that she’d had on in the bank the day they met, and her hair is still wild. The only difference in her appearance is the owl perched on her left shoulder.

“I’m so sorry to come unannounced,” Alice says, staying in front of her car in case she’s not welcome and needs to get out of there quickly.

Ruth, frowning, waves her toward the house. “It’s fine, just hurry and get inside,” she calls out.

Alice does as she’s told, glancing up at the sky to see if it’s about to rain, but it’s a cloudless blue. As she steps up on the porch, she’s struck by the fear that the owl on Ruth’s shoulder will swoop at her. Drawing closer, she notices that the bird has only one wing. It swivels its head to appraise her with wide, yellow eyes.

Ruth steps away from the door and grabs the sleeve of Alice’s coat to pull her inside the house. “Do you think anyone saw you?”

“Pull into the driveway? Ahh, no. I don’t think so.” Alice tries to remember if she saw any other cars on the road before turning in.

“Not the driveway,” Ruth snaps at her. “In the forest. Did you see anyone watching you from the forest?”

A chill runs down Alice’s spine. “I wasn’t looking closely, but nothing caught my eye.”

Ruth visibly relaxes and reaches up to stroke the feathers of the owl. “This is Anne,” she explains. “She’s intimidating but she’s harmless.”

She gestures for Alice to follow her through the cluttered entranceway and into an even more cluttered living room. The entire place is made of exposed logs, even the low ceiling, giving Alice a claustrophobic feeling. Every surface is piled high—with books, blankets, newspapers, magazines, and dirty dishes.

“Have a seat,” Ruth says, gesturing to a couch piled high with dusty throw cushions and old magazines. “Can I get you a cup of tea? I’ve got some chamomile on the stove, made right from the garden.”

“Please don’t go to any trouble,” Alice says, keeping her coat on and maneuvering herself into a spot on the couch to avoid the piles.

“No trouble at all,” Ruth says before disappearing into another room. Alice is overwhelmed with a desire to get up and run from the dark, dank room. She shifts in her seat, ready to stand, when movement in a corner of the room catches her eye. Something low to the ground on four legs emerges.

Alice gasps when she sees that it’s a fox, missing both eyes and part of one ear. Twitching its pointy black nose in the air, it finds Alice’s scent.

“Don’t mind him,” Ruth says, arriving back in the room with two steaming mugs. “That’s Finn. He’s also harmless. Just likes to get to know everyone’s smells.” She puts a large ceramic mug in front of Alice and then eases down into a chair across from the couch. The owl is no longer on her shoulder, but the fox gracefully jumps up onto her lap, curling into a ball.

“My mother takes in rescue cats,” Alice says, attempting to connect. Ruth nods and takes a sip of her tea. “Are the owl and fox from a local rescue?”

Ruth snorts. “Yeah, the woods.”

“Oh, yes, of course. That makes sense,” Alice says, feeling stupid. “You must find all kinds of wounded animals in these woods.”

Ruth purses her lips and glances out the window before answering. “They find me.” As though on cue, a one-legged crow swoops into the room to land on the wide mantel over the stone fireplace. This time Alice screams and puts her hands over head. The crow squawks in response.

“That’s Peter,” Ruth says. “He’ll only come at you if you look him right in the eye.”

Alice takes her hands away from her head and shifts in her seat so that there’s no possible way she could make eye contact with the crow. She’s trembling, so she clasps her hands in her lap to try to conceal it. “When we first moved here, we found mutilated animals on our lawn one morning. Do you know—”

“Have a sip of the tea,” Ruth interrupts. “It’ll calm those nerves.”

Alice hadn’t planned on drinking the tea, but she doesn’t want to be rude so she takes a sip. It’s warm and sweet, rather than the scalding, bitter taste she’d expected. She takes another sip and notices a calming sensation move through her, quelling the tremble.