The Tree-Winder
The crossroads sign came into view, and suddenly Cecelia could hear her heart as clear as a drumbeat.
He won’t be there today, she said to herself. She opened her eyes wider and stared ahead. They started to water, but she was determined not to blink. That’s how he could get on the tree. He could jump so quietly when she wasn’t looking and then suddenly wrap himself around the trunk and stare at her, just stare, and smack his lips.
She shivered, accidentally blinking. A small tear tore down her face as a fire erupted across her eyes. She squeezed them shut and stretched out her hand, grasping for the signpost. Her hand connected with the wooden pole just as a breeze whipped past behind her. It was so faint that anyone who hadn’t known what appeared day after day wouldn’t have been sure anything had happened, but the more she listened, the louder his breathing became.
Cecelia clung to the pole to keep herself upright. When she’d told Mama about the monster at the crossroads tree, Mama had laughed.
“That’s no more than an old legend Grandmama used to tell us to warn us about strangers,” Mama reassured her. “The Tree-Winder can no more capture your soul than she can.”
Cecelia had had her doubts when Mama said that; Grandmama was older than most of the women in the neighborhood and was the only one around for miles who still believed in old legends. Her house always smelled of cinnamon and pork, and she never got sick. She sat on her porch every day, spinning yarn or reading, and pretended not to hear the stories people told about her, like the ones Mama’s friends were always whispering when they saw each other.
“You won’t get a chance at your inheritance, Carmen!” they joked. “The way she’s going, she’ll never die!”
Mama always smiled politely and said that while it was rude to talk about Grandmama dying, she was surprised that anyone still took her seriously. The ladies laughed, but moved their attentions to the latest home stories and job troubles. Then they just sat around and talked while Cecelia climbed higher in her favorite tree.
A few droplets fell from the branches onto her arms. Cecelia tucked her elbows in and tried not to cry out. She hid her face in her arms and gripped the post. He was creeping up behind her. She could feel him. She scrunched her eyes even tighter, like Grandmama had told her to do if she ever met the Tree-Winder and had blinked.
Hello, my dear.
It was such a tiny voice. Cecelia spun around, trying to locate its source with only her ears. It slithered around her, breaking the dry autumn leaves, laughing like a frog before it continued.
Are you related to Rocio?
Cecilia choked back a whimper. She pressed her face to the signpost just to make sure it and the ground and the earth she knew hadn’t abandoned her. Grandmama had said he would lie, that he was tricky and could see things about people he wasn’t supposed to. It was from his years of prowling and devouring travelers.
The small croak continued to circle her until a foot snapped to the ground in front of her.
She could feel the Tree-Winder towering above her, light, sharp breezes radiating from his skin.
He laughed again.
Of course! There’s no mistaking her family! Rocio must love you very much. Oh, but you must be her granddaughter!
Cecelia shuffled around to the other side of the post and gasped for air. She wished it were a large tree she could hide behind and disappear while he searched, finding nothing, and then she could continue on her way down the path. Her knees started to shake. Cecelia bit her lip and dug her feet into the packed sand and her nails into the rough, worn wood. Above her, the Tree-Winder huffed, and she thought she could hear him darting a tongue out into the air, his mouth smacking open and closed.
It is polite to say hello when someone else greets you, he growled.
“I’m not supposed to talk to you, Tree-Winder!” she yelled. “I won’t let you eat my soul!”
The atmosphere emptied suddenly. Cecelia wondered if the Tree-Winder had finally left, but then a stronger voice returned, stirring up a small sandstorm that threw pebbles against her ankles.
Eat your...? Eat your soul? My dear, I am the Tree-Winder! Who has been telling such lies about me?
“G-Grandmama...?”
How dare--
The crossroads exploded. Cecelia grabbed onto the splintery pole and screamed. She was drowned out by the whirlwind of pressure the Tree-Winder created. She moved around the pole until she had it between her and the wind. She crouched, her arms blocking her head from loose rocks and branches, a low, croaking moan coming from in front of her, rising with the dervish.
It was when she was just a little girl that Grandmama had first told her about the Tree-Winder.
“He hides in trees next to crossroads, waiting for travelers,” she said. “The ones who can see him have to pretend they can’t unless they want him to eat their souls.”
“Why does he eat them?” Cecelia asked.
“Because the Tree-Winder is always hungry.”
“Why?”
“Because he thinks he has all the answers.”
“Why?”
Grandmama glared at her, and Cecelia lowered her head, embarrassed. She glanced up to say sorry, but Grandmama had stopped winding. She watched the river and breeze dance in a way that Cecelia couldn’t understand. Cecelia watched, too, but all she could see were the dragonflies bouncing off the shallow waters of the bank. After a few minutes, Grandmama sniffed and wiped her eyes, hardening her face as if nothing had happened.
“Grandmama?” Cecelia began.
Grandmama didn’t look up this time. “Keep going, darling. Don’t worry about the Tree- Winder for now. He doesn’t want you, yet. You don’t know enough.”
Cecelia huffed. “I know plenty! In school I learned—”
“You learned what they think you must, not what you want. You should learn to question things around you.”
“But I was asking you questions earlier!” Cecelia cried. “You didn’t answer me.”
Grandmama tilted her head toward her granddaughter. “All in good time,” she replied. “In the meantime, pay attention in school.” Cecelia was glaring at her as she said this. Grandmama shrugged and smiled. “And let me tell you about the Salamander and the Dragonfly.”
Just as the moan reached its highest pitch, the vortex of pressure lessened. The noise and wind faded away. Cecelia’s hair tangled around her head until it came to rest in a knotted crown. She tried to shake it off her face, unwilling to take one hand off of the signpost to fix it in case the Tree-Winder started again.
He was still panting roughly, but getting himself more under control with each intake of air. His every exhale washed over the road and trees, blowing a sickly-sweet scent over Cecelia that didn’t quite cover a rotten stench. She lowered her head under her arm, coughed, and then leaned her forehead against the pole.
My apologies.
Cecelia squeaked in surprise, as the Tree-Winder’s voice had suddenly came from behind her. She pulled herself around the pole, dragging splinters into her palms as she went.
“Please go away,” she said. “I’m just trying to get home.”
If this is what Rocio gives me after all these years… he said, ignoring her, then I have been away far too long. She has forgotten.
“She hasn’t forgotten you! She warned me about you!”
My dear, my dear! The Tree Winder kicked up another wind, calmer, but it still buffeted Cecelia into the pole. She was grateful she had her eyes shut, though it was getting tiring trying to keep them squeezed tight. My dear, why should you be warned about me? What have I done to you? You have walked by here day after day, and all I have done is watch over you.
Cecelia sobbed, “But she said—”
And do you immediately believe everything told to you by grown-ups? Surely your Grandmama has taught you better.
Cecelia curled around the pole, sobs escaping her throat. Ever since the day Grandmama had told her about the Tree-Winder, she hadn’t stopped asking questions. Every time someone said something to her, she was ready with a reply of “Why?”
“She’s going through that phase right now,” Mama had whispered to her visiting friend. Her friend smiled knowingly and nodded, and then Mama turned her attention to Cecelia. “Honey, I don’t know the answer to your question, and we need to talk right now. Go outside”
Before she could ask, “Talk about what?” she was nudged outside, the door snapping closed behind her.
A clammy hand brushed her shoulder. Cecelia shuddered, but it stayed, lightly rubbing her back in sympathy.
Your Grandmama Rocio and I used to know each other. She and I talked; we were friends. Did you know that?
Cecelia shook her head. The Tree-Winder grasped her shoulder and turned her until she faced him, his breath creeping under her eyelids.
I’m afraid you’ve been lied to, Cecelia.
The Tree-Winder grasped Cecelia’s elbow and lifted her off the ground. The arm he held came away from the pole, though she kept the other one firmly attached. When she stood at full height, he laughed softly, kindly, and patted her shoulder.
There is no need to fear me, Cecelia. Your kind see me and think they know a monster, but I sit at the crossroads to help you all travel safely. If you were to open your eyes... He paused. Cecelia inhaled sharply and kept her eyes closed. If you were to open your eyes, you would see that mine are large and wide to see you off on your journeys—your mama and Grandmama, too, and everyone who passes through. I can see for miles. You already know how fast I can move. If I spot danger on the road, I can leap ahead and dispel it before it catches you.
“Grandmama said you can’t learn enough and that’s why you eat souls,” Cecelia blurted out.
Another rough breeze blustered up her hair as the Tree-Winder laughed. He squeezed her shoulder, his three, round fingers digging into her skin.
It is true, I am curious. That is how Rocio and I came to know each other. She would tell me stories, and I would tell her stories. But I never ate her soul.
He won’t be there today, she said to herself. She opened her eyes wider and stared ahead. They started to water, but she was determined not to blink. That’s how he could get on the tree. He could jump so quietly when she wasn’t looking and then suddenly wrap himself around the trunk and stare at her, just stare, and smack his lips.
She shivered, accidentally blinking. A small tear tore down her face as a fire erupted across her eyes. She squeezed them shut and stretched out her hand, grasping for the signpost. Her hand connected with the wooden pole just as a breeze whipped past behind her. It was so faint that anyone who hadn’t known what appeared day after day wouldn’t have been sure anything had happened, but the more she listened, the louder his breathing became.
Cecelia clung to the pole to keep herself upright. When she’d told Mama about the monster at the crossroads tree, Mama had laughed.
“That’s no more than an old legend Grandmama used to tell us to warn us about strangers,” Mama reassured her. “The Tree-Winder can no more capture your soul than she can.”
Cecelia had had her doubts when Mama said that; Grandmama was older than most of the women in the neighborhood and was the only one around for miles who still believed in old legends. Her house always smelled of cinnamon and pork, and she never got sick. She sat on her porch every day, spinning yarn or reading, and pretended not to hear the stories people told about her, like the ones Mama’s friends were always whispering when they saw each other.
“You won’t get a chance at your inheritance, Carmen!” they joked. “The way she’s going, she’ll never die!”
Mama always smiled politely and said that while it was rude to talk about Grandmama dying, she was surprised that anyone still took her seriously. The ladies laughed, but moved their attentions to the latest home stories and job troubles. Then they just sat around and talked while Cecelia climbed higher in her favorite tree.
A few droplets fell from the branches onto her arms. Cecelia tucked her elbows in and tried not to cry out. She hid her face in her arms and gripped the post. He was creeping up behind her. She could feel him. She scrunched her eyes even tighter, like Grandmama had told her to do if she ever met the Tree-Winder and had blinked.
Hello, my dear.
It was such a tiny voice. Cecelia spun around, trying to locate its source with only her ears. It slithered around her, breaking the dry autumn leaves, laughing like a frog before it continued.
Are you related to Rocio?
Cecilia choked back a whimper. She pressed her face to the signpost just to make sure it and the ground and the earth she knew hadn’t abandoned her. Grandmama had said he would lie, that he was tricky and could see things about people he wasn’t supposed to. It was from his years of prowling and devouring travelers.
The small croak continued to circle her until a foot snapped to the ground in front of her.
She could feel the Tree-Winder towering above her, light, sharp breezes radiating from his skin.
He laughed again.
Of course! There’s no mistaking her family! Rocio must love you very much. Oh, but you must be her granddaughter!
Cecelia shuffled around to the other side of the post and gasped for air. She wished it were a large tree she could hide behind and disappear while he searched, finding nothing, and then she could continue on her way down the path. Her knees started to shake. Cecelia bit her lip and dug her feet into the packed sand and her nails into the rough, worn wood. Above her, the Tree-Winder huffed, and she thought she could hear him darting a tongue out into the air, his mouth smacking open and closed.
It is polite to say hello when someone else greets you, he growled.
“I’m not supposed to talk to you, Tree-Winder!” she yelled. “I won’t let you eat my soul!”
The atmosphere emptied suddenly. Cecelia wondered if the Tree-Winder had finally left, but then a stronger voice returned, stirring up a small sandstorm that threw pebbles against her ankles.
Eat your...? Eat your soul? My dear, I am the Tree-Winder! Who has been telling such lies about me?
“G-Grandmama...?”
How dare--
The crossroads exploded. Cecelia grabbed onto the splintery pole and screamed. She was drowned out by the whirlwind of pressure the Tree-Winder created. She moved around the pole until she had it between her and the wind. She crouched, her arms blocking her head from loose rocks and branches, a low, croaking moan coming from in front of her, rising with the dervish.
It was when she was just a little girl that Grandmama had first told her about the Tree-Winder.
“He hides in trees next to crossroads, waiting for travelers,” she said. “The ones who can see him have to pretend they can’t unless they want him to eat their souls.”
“Why does he eat them?” Cecelia asked.
“Because the Tree-Winder is always hungry.”
“Why?”
“Because he thinks he has all the answers.”
“Why?”
Grandmama glared at her, and Cecelia lowered her head, embarrassed. She glanced up to say sorry, but Grandmama had stopped winding. She watched the river and breeze dance in a way that Cecelia couldn’t understand. Cecelia watched, too, but all she could see were the dragonflies bouncing off the shallow waters of the bank. After a few minutes, Grandmama sniffed and wiped her eyes, hardening her face as if nothing had happened.
“Grandmama?” Cecelia began.
Grandmama didn’t look up this time. “Keep going, darling. Don’t worry about the Tree- Winder for now. He doesn’t want you, yet. You don’t know enough.”
Cecelia huffed. “I know plenty! In school I learned—”
“You learned what they think you must, not what you want. You should learn to question things around you.”
“But I was asking you questions earlier!” Cecelia cried. “You didn’t answer me.”
Grandmama tilted her head toward her granddaughter. “All in good time,” she replied. “In the meantime, pay attention in school.” Cecelia was glaring at her as she said this. Grandmama shrugged and smiled. “And let me tell you about the Salamander and the Dragonfly.”
Just as the moan reached its highest pitch, the vortex of pressure lessened. The noise and wind faded away. Cecelia’s hair tangled around her head until it came to rest in a knotted crown. She tried to shake it off her face, unwilling to take one hand off of the signpost to fix it in case the Tree-Winder started again.
He was still panting roughly, but getting himself more under control with each intake of air. His every exhale washed over the road and trees, blowing a sickly-sweet scent over Cecelia that didn’t quite cover a rotten stench. She lowered her head under her arm, coughed, and then leaned her forehead against the pole.
My apologies.
Cecelia squeaked in surprise, as the Tree-Winder’s voice had suddenly came from behind her. She pulled herself around the pole, dragging splinters into her palms as she went.
“Please go away,” she said. “I’m just trying to get home.”
If this is what Rocio gives me after all these years… he said, ignoring her, then I have been away far too long. She has forgotten.
“She hasn’t forgotten you! She warned me about you!”
My dear, my dear! The Tree Winder kicked up another wind, calmer, but it still buffeted Cecelia into the pole. She was grateful she had her eyes shut, though it was getting tiring trying to keep them squeezed tight. My dear, why should you be warned about me? What have I done to you? You have walked by here day after day, and all I have done is watch over you.
Cecelia sobbed, “But she said—”
And do you immediately believe everything told to you by grown-ups? Surely your Grandmama has taught you better.
Cecelia curled around the pole, sobs escaping her throat. Ever since the day Grandmama had told her about the Tree-Winder, she hadn’t stopped asking questions. Every time someone said something to her, she was ready with a reply of “Why?”
“She’s going through that phase right now,” Mama had whispered to her visiting friend. Her friend smiled knowingly and nodded, and then Mama turned her attention to Cecelia. “Honey, I don’t know the answer to your question, and we need to talk right now. Go outside”
Before she could ask, “Talk about what?” she was nudged outside, the door snapping closed behind her.
A clammy hand brushed her shoulder. Cecelia shuddered, but it stayed, lightly rubbing her back in sympathy.
Your Grandmama Rocio and I used to know each other. She and I talked; we were friends. Did you know that?
Cecelia shook her head. The Tree-Winder grasped her shoulder and turned her until she faced him, his breath creeping under her eyelids.
I’m afraid you’ve been lied to, Cecelia.
The Tree-Winder grasped Cecelia’s elbow and lifted her off the ground. The arm he held came away from the pole, though she kept the other one firmly attached. When she stood at full height, he laughed softly, kindly, and patted her shoulder.
There is no need to fear me, Cecelia. Your kind see me and think they know a monster, but I sit at the crossroads to help you all travel safely. If you were to open your eyes... He paused. Cecelia inhaled sharply and kept her eyes closed. If you were to open your eyes, you would see that mine are large and wide to see you off on your journeys—your mama and Grandmama, too, and everyone who passes through. I can see for miles. You already know how fast I can move. If I spot danger on the road, I can leap ahead and dispel it before it catches you.
“Grandmama said you can’t learn enough and that’s why you eat souls,” Cecelia blurted out.
Another rough breeze blustered up her hair as the Tree-Winder laughed. He squeezed her shoulder, his three, round fingers digging into her skin.
It is true, I am curious. That is how Rocio and I came to know each other. She would tell me stories, and I would tell her stories. But I never ate her soul.