The Creature That Was Not A Deer

Grace walked silently through the forest. It wasn't because she was particularly adept at creeping soundlessly around places, it was just that the leaves and twigs blanketing the forest floor were not crunchy. They were wet; rotting; and wet and rotting things do not crunch when stepped upon. Instead, they just break down into wet clumps and decompose faster.

That was the scent that hung over the forest and filled Grace's lungs as she breathed. The rot. A poignant, almost acrid smell of dampness and dead things and fungi.

As Grace picked herself through the forest, slowly and deliberately, as to not disturb the larger clumps of leaves that might be obscuring an unknown something, a chill ran through her. She pulled her grey woolen sweater/cardigan tighter around her, and crossed her arms over her chest, but continued walking at the same pace.

Late afternoon light streamed through the thick canopy of varying shades of green. By the time they reached the forest floor, reached Grace, they had dispersed to muted, dust-filled rays that did not inflict a harshness to the eye.

Grace took a deep breath of the crisp forest air and allowed her mind to wander. She was still pissed at Esha but was rapidly calming down in the stillness and aloneness of the forest. Her forest, her safe place. Already, Grace had gone over their fight half a dozen times, but maybe if she did one more time she'd finally be able to sort through it?

Earlier that day, right after school had gotten out, Esha had invited Grace over to hang out at her house. That in of itself was not unusual, the two girls spent an almost absurd amount of time together. But still, something about the formality in which Esha had asked her struck Grace as odd. At this point, they just went to each other's houses. They didn't really talk about it, and it certainly wasn't phrased with such hesitancy.

Grace, a little confused, had accepted. The two had walked to Esha's house, conversation more stilted than it normally was between them. The closer they got to their destination, the more awkward and anxious Esha was visibly becoming.

Once inside, they sat down in the kitchen. Esha silently prepared a spicy-smelling tea for the two of them while Grace sat at the table and waited. It was difficult to feel uncomfortable in Esha's house, both because of the sheer amount of time Grace had spent there, and because the house itself had such a welcoming atmosphere. Between the dozens of photos covering the walls and the cluttered, lived-in feel of the house, Grace had always been a little bit in love with Esha's house.

Esha set two steaming mugs of tea down on the table and sat across from Grace. Grace picked hers up and sipped it slowly, palms slick with sweat that had nothing to do with the heat of the mug. She had a feeling she knew what was coming.

She's going to break up with me.

"Grace," Esha began. She let out a shaky breath and pushed her black hair behind her ears.

Here it comes...

"Um... look. I love what we have between us, you know that. I love us, I love being with you. But..."

"I know, Esha. I know what you're trying to say," Grace said after Esha had trailed off and paused.

"No, I have to say this. I have to actually get it out and say it. I love our relationship, but it isn't enough for me, not anymore. I want us to come out," Esha finished in a rush.

Oh

Grace watched her, sipping her tea. Esha furrowed her dark eyebrows and stared into her untouched mug, avoiding eye contact with Grace. Grace noticed that the steam coming off the tea was fogging up Esha's glasses.

"Esha—"

"Grace, you won't even let us hold hands in public. Honestly, we spend so much time together I doubt anyone would be that surprised."