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A cool, refreshing breeze played with Coco’s hair as she emptied her bowl of water and filled it up again. She breathed in the spring air. There was always a kind of primal relief that came when plants began blooming and the air began to smell sweet.
“Mom won’t mind if I stay out a bit longer,” Coco murmured to herself, wading through the cool water.
Her mother had always warned her not to stray far from home, but with every year that she grew a little bigger, her mother loosened the definition of ‘far’ more and more. A blush of wildflowers on the other side of the pond caught Coco’s eye. She had peeked past the bushes there before, but had only seen more woods beyond it. But what was a little further in, she wondered. It was a slow day today. She could explore a bit.
Coco gently set the water bowl down on a pile of rocks sitting at the water’s edge. After scuffing her feet against the grass in a futile attempt to dry them, Coco ran around the pond’s edge to the bushes. She knelt for a second to admire the wildflowers, then found a break in the bushes big enough for her to squeeze through and slipped past.
The woods back here weren’t as dense as she originally thought. It was an old forest, really, where the bushes soon faltered in the shade of taller, grander trees. Coco stepped between bowing ferns and moss-covered logs until suddenly she saw a stronger glint of sunlight up ahead. Coco scrambled up a root-covered hill, chasing the golden light. She pulled herself up over the ridge and let out a delighted gasp.
At the top of the hill was a wondrous clearing. It was sheltered by old, gnarled trees, and vibrant flowers and bushes formed a rough circle at the edges. Part of the clearing was dotted with hewn stones half swallowed by dirt and lichen, forming a path into the trees beyond the clearing, and in the middle the stones curled to create a small foundation for a wooden, delicately carved bench. But the thing that really made Coco’s eyes shine with wonder was the silver tree in the middle of it all, its roots a stout base that seemed to cradle the clearing, its flourishing silver leaves glinting like bits of crystal in the sunlight.
“Oh wow!” Coco shouted, and promptly ran into the light.
She hopped from stone to stone, trying to get every angle of the tree she could. She had never seen a tree like this before.
“You’re the most beautiful tree I’ve ever seen!” Coco said with the kind of excitable resolution that only a child could have.
“Why thank you!”
Coco shrieked and looked around. The clearing was empty save for a few birds calling out in the forest.
“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” the voice said. “Up here, little one.”
Coco looked up. Sitting in the curve of the tree’s branches was a man. His hair was as pale as the leaves surrounding him like a halo, his one visible eye an icy blue, and his smile as gentle as the sound of the breeze filtering through the canopy.
“Oh!” Coco’s hands flew to her mouth, “is this your… grove? Your garden? I’m sorry for just running in-”
The man chuckled, “in a way it is, but you’re very much welcome here. I suppose all those stories about children being able to see more than adults continues to be true.”
“What do you mean?”
The man slid from his perch in the branches and- to Coco’s awe- he floated smoothly down until his boots touched the dirt. He looked up, and Coco saw that pale branches were sprouting from his right eye.
Coco drew in a big breath, feeling nearly dizzy with excitement, “are you a witch?”
The man gave a strange, wincing smile. “I used to be. I… hm, how am I supposed to explain this?”
Coco gasped, looking between him and the tree, words he had said sticking in her mind. She pointed at him, startling the man. “Are you a spirit?!”
“No- well…” the man tilted his head, his single eye narrowing, “am I?”
Coco hmphed, rocking on her heels, “how can you not know if you’re a spirit or not?”
“Well they don’t exactly give out guidebooks for how to be a tree,” the man shot back.
“I knew it! You’re a tree spirit!”
The man smiled. His cloak and skirts rippled when the wind tossed the leaves above. “I suppose you’re right, uh, what can I call you, little miss?”
“I’m Coco!” She told the spirit. Wow, a real spirit! She had found her own little bit of magic not far from home. “What’s your name, mister tree?”
“Mister tree,” the spirit repeated incredulously. He kneeled to Coco’s level and took her hands in his. Strangely, they didn’t feel like flesh, they felt like she was holding water. “My name is Qifrey.”
Her chores completely and utterly forgotten, Coco spent the next few hours sat in the dirt with Qifrey, asking every question she could come up with. The tree spirit seemed happy to entertain her unending curiosity.
“What kind of tree are you?”
“A silverwood.”
“Does every tree have a spirit like you?”
“Not as far as I know, it’s only silverwoods.”
“If you’re a tree, who named you? Did you name yourself?”
“Uh… well…”
“Sorry, I guess that was personal.”
“Sure.”
“You said something about kids being able to see you.”
“Well, so far the only people who have reacted to my presence have been children. I don’t know for certain though.”
“How many centuries have you lived?”
“Not a single one, yet.”
“Oh! You’re a young tree!”
“Why thank you.”
Eventually though, the sun began to dip towards the horizon. Coco wouldn’t have noticed it at all if Qifrey hadn’t pointed it out. She gave a hasty goodbye and a promise to come back tomorrow, and then sprinted home. She barely remembered to pick up the water bowl on the way back, and had to stop to empty and fill it again because some curious bugs had settled down inside.
“Mom! Mom I might not be able to do magic, but I just talked to a tree spirit!” Coco shouted as she burst through the door.
“Did you now, Coco?” Was her mother’s reply.
Coco spent the rest of the day in a strange state between sulking and bursting with excitement. Her mother smiled fondly at her antics, but still shook her head when she began talking about the tree spirit again.
Determined not to give this up, Coco persuaded her mother to come to the clearing the next day.
She pulled her mother along with her through the forest, barely able to restrain herself from saying come on, come on, every few minutes. Finally they crested the hill, and there Qifrey was, waiting for her at the base of the silverwood.
“Look mom! I wasn’t making things up, Qifrey’s right here!” Coco jabbed her finger towards the spirit, who made a curious noise when they arrived.
Her mother hummed and looked past the man, her gaze sweeping up the silverwood. “My, that’s a pretty tree you’ve found, Coco.”
“Yeah,” Coco stomped over to Qifrey’s side, “because this tree has its very own spirit.”
“Coco,” Qifrey said, strangely apologetic, “she can’t see me.”
“But…” Coco’s face fell, “she’s not gonna believe me. Mom, he’s right here, I’m talking to him!”
Her mother cooed and pet Coco’s hair. “You don’t have to pretend to talk to something. Now, I have two dresses to finish up for tomorrow. You can play here for a while, but come back before the sun starts setting, alright?”
Coco stared up at her mother, crestfallen. The leaves of the silverwood and Qifrey’s cloak whispered at her back. “Okay…”
Her mother disappeared back into the woods. When the branches had swallowed up any sight of her yellow dress, Coco sank to the ground, hitting her knees painfully against the embedded stones.
“Oh, my dear…” the tree spirit sank with her and tentatively reached his arms out. “I’m sorry that you’re mother won’t believe you. It’s a painful thing, to not be taken seriously.”
Coco sobbed and curled into his arms. She cried at the base of the silverwood’s roots while Qifrey hummed reassurances.
Coco visited Qifrey’s clearing as much as she could. If there weren’t clients to tailor for and all the chores were done, Coco grabbed her sketchbook and pens and dashed away into the woods.
Qifrey had begun teaching her how to draw, and Coco had taken to it like a duck to water. Many of their days were spent sitting on the ornate bench, Qifrey leaning over Coco’s shoulder as she sketched scenes and portraits of people who came by her family’s shop. Sometimes Coco caught the spirit’s hands twitching like he ached to hold a pen, but when she offered him it, the slipped through his fingers.
“Who put this bench here?” Coco asked one day, as the wood creaked underneath her.
“A friend,” Qifrey replied, his voice thick with emotions Coco couldn’t place.
She traced the delicate carvings with her fingers. She had become familiar with the carvings over her the course of her visits; witch hats, lanterns, stars, cozy fire places, dragons soaring through the sky, and, always interspaced between these motifs, the outline of two witches.
Coco figured that this friend had been someone from long ago, someone who also had the ability to see spirits and was now long gone. The clearing was gorgeous, but it must be terribly lonely to never leave year after year, waiting for someone to visit.
Maybe Coco could learn woodcarving and make her own bench, she thought, or maybe Qifrey would prefer her art? Coco was always happy to have a project. She tucked the idea away for safe keeping.
A few days later, Coco climbed the rough staircase she had made up the hill and stopped when she was able to peer over the hill’s crest. There was a new person in Qifrey’s clearing.
“Sorry I took so long, buddy,” the man said, gruff, weary, and yet soft as the warmth of a hearth, “you would not believe how needy the monarchs up north are. I swear, how the hell do they run entire kingdoms when they can’t even have a functioning well without calling on us?”
The man brushed a hand through his raven black hair. His scruffy beard made him look older than he probably was, and the dark blues and blacks of his attire stood out against the cheerful colors of spring. He sat down heavily on the bench and ran his hands over the carvings. Familiar, where Coco’s touch was curious.
Coco blinked. Could this be another friend of Qifrey’s? Surely the tree spirit would come out to meet him, right? She searched for snowy white hair and found it on the opposite side of the tree from the bench. Qifrey hid among the silverwood’s branches, nearly melding with them. Actually melding with them, she realized, like when he disappeared inside the trunk to ‘sleep’. Coco almost thought that this new man was a threat if Qifrey was hiding like that, but he still peered out so hopefully, so longingly.
Coco narrowed her eyes and resolved to watch what happened.
The man dug a jar out of his bag and lifted it up. The whole time, his eyes had strayed everywhere except the silverwood itself. Now, he gazed at the tree like one gazes at a painting close to the heart.
“Happy birthday, Qifrey,” the man said, then tipped the jar over to let the liquid inside pour out onto the roots, “don’t worry, it’s tea. It apparently has a lot of nutrients that plants like too, so… agh, I know it’s stupid.”
The tea sank into the dirt, turning it black. Some of the droplets hit the silverwood roots, and though Coco was far away, she’s pretty sure they sank into the wood. Coco glanced to Qifrey’s hiding place and heard the spirit choke on a watery laugh.
The man took a swig from the jar as well and made a face. He folded his hands in his lap and leaned forward, speaking to the tree. “My apprentices are doing well, you’d be proud. Say, how about I bring them by again? Man, you’d probably have so many opinions about my teaching… I wish you could tell me them. You’re probably shaking in there with righteous, mentorly indignation, heh…”
Qifrey had uncurled somewhat, but he was still wreathed in a mess of branches. The spirit had had plenty of moments of melancholy, but Coco had always managed to cheer him up. But this was sadness so deep it made her heart hurt.
Coco blinked. Obviously, this man couldn’t see spirits, and it was obviously part of what was so painful for Qifrey. But she could, and if she couldn’t make her tree friend happy, then what kind of friend was she?
She didn’t want to disturb the dark haired man’s lamenting. Carefully, mimicking the careful steps of the neighbor’s barn cats, Coco crept around the side of the clearing, keeping out of sight behind the bushes.
The newcomer kept talking. “You should be the professor, not me. Hell, we were supposed to do this together and I… I guess I shouldn’t be so selfish, huh? I get to keep living my life. You don’t.”
Coco paused on her hands and knees. He made it sound like Qifrey was a normal human before. Coco kept crawling, grimacing at the dirt steadily collecting on her dress. More chores for later.
She finally made it behind the tree and kept as low to the ground as she could as she crawled up. Luckily, the newcomer seemed to be too stuck in his heavy thoughts to notice a strange shimmying bit of green cloth. Safely behind the silverwood and beneath Qifrey’s hiding spot, Coco stood up and poked the tree spirit.
“Coco?” He whispered, despite the man obviously not being able to perceive him.
Coco, on the other hand, knew she needed to keep her voice as quiet as possible. “That’s your friend, right?”
Qifrey’s eye softened. “Yes. That’s Oruggio, my best friend. He visits me when he can, but he’s very busy with his apprentices and all.”
“And he can talk to you. But you can’t talk back,” Coco stated.
Qifrey slumped like her words had been an arrow to his heart.
Coco nodded once to herself, her eyes shining with determination. “Then I’ll be your translator!”
Qifrey jolted back to his long-limbed self. “Huh? What? Wait a second-”
But Coco had proudly announced that last part not in a whisper, and Oruggio looked up, just as startled at his friend. Coco grabbed Qifrey’s hand and tugged him forward, knowing that he would just float down from his perch.
“Hello sir!” Coco called out, a girl on a mission.
Oruggio stared at her, bewildered. “Um. Hello.”
Coco faltered just a little, the gravity of what she was about to do nudging at the back of her twelve-year old mind. She turned as surreptitiously as she could while Oruggio stared at her and whispered up to Qifrey, “what do you want to say to him?”
“What do I want to- to say?” Qifrey seemed a bit dazed himself. His breath seemed to have left him.
“Uh, do you need something, little one?” Oruggio asked awkwardly.
Coco sighed and then put on her best smile for Qifrey. “Don’t worry. I can start.”
She turned around and marched up to Oruggio, still sitting on the wooden bench. She pointed to the carvings surrounding him. “Qifrey says you made this bench for him and I think that’s really cool and sweet.”
Coco had never seen a grown man look so simultaneously haunted and shocked. She faltered and stepped back. Qifrey seemed to have broken from his daze and ran up to her.
He placed his hands on Coco’s shoulders and knelt down beside her. “Coco, it’s been years. You can’t just… drop that on someone.”
Before she could answer, Oruggio’s voice came again, weary and suddenly shaky.
“What… what do you mean… little one, please don’t make jokes like this,” he curled in on himself, his hands scrabbling at the wooden bench. Through his bangs, his eyes sought the silverwood.
“It’s not-!” Coco felt tears spring to her eyes. She looked desperately at Qifrey.
The tree spirit sighed. “What’s done is done. It’s alright, Coco, we just have to ease him into it. Tell him that I’m sorry we gave him such a shock.”
Coco wiped her tears, “Mr. Oruggio, Qifrey says we’re sorry we gave you such a shock.”
Oruggio stood up abruptly, scaring Coco into taking a few steps back. His breathing had gone strange. “Once a silverwood grows, it kills the host. He’s- he’s gone.”
Its host? Coco shuddered.
A lightweight hand rubbed up and down her back. “Please tell Oruggio not to scare little girls with that kind of knowledge. I’d rather be the one to tell you about what happened to me, Coco.”
“Qifrey says to not scare little girls with that knowledge, and he wants to be the one to tell me what happened,” Coco repeated dutifully. She twisted to look between Qifrey, Oruggio, and the silverwood. “I- I thought Qifrey’s a tree spirit. He’s a spirit, right?”
Qifrey hugged her tight, like a blanket made of gentle water. “Oh, Coco. I am, in a way. But I didn’t start that way.”
Oruggio fell back onto the bench with a thud. He stared at Coco disbelievingly, long enough that she began to fidget. “He’s really here, isn’t he? He heard everything I’ve said to him. He’s still… oh, Qifrey…”
Coco, overwhelmed, felt tears spring back into her eyes as Oruggio began breaking down into sobs. Qifrey unwound Coco and sat down next to his friend. He hugged him tight as the man shuddered and cried.
“Is- is that really him?” Oruggio sniffed, looking around but not finding the spirit embracing him. “Sometimes when I come here I feel a- a weight, like a wave at my back. Was that him this whole time?”
Coco nodded and smiled through her tears, “I think so. He’s hugging you right now so if you feel it…”
A breath of relief passed Oruggio’s lips, the wind that brings a ship to safe harbor. They sat there for a while, the birds singing their joyous songs over their heads, unaware of the love and grief coming to rest below. Wind rustled through the silver branches above.
Qifrey was the first to break the quiet. “Coco, my dear. Could you tell Oruggio that he needs to stop pressing the complicated stuff in his lessons and let his apprentices get the building blocks ingrained in them first?”
Coco nodded happily. “Hey, Mister Orrugio? Qifrey says…”