Chapter One: Sam

The first few precious rays of morning sun filtered through the thin yellow curtains of the tiny bedroom. Playfully they danced on the tranquil face of a still sleeping somebody, illuminating a generous set of orange freckles. The rich yellow sunlight added somewhat of a fiery glow to an otherwise rather pale and plump face. The face belonged to a young woman – who by the looks of it – still appeared to be off somewhere in the wondrous land of dreams. With eyes still closed, she smiled peacefully at something only she could see. Her short red hair was sprawled out on the pillow, and gave much resemblance of a lion's mane.

The room was tiny and simply furnished. A low wooden bed, desk with chair and a small wardrobe. Walls and ceiling were all made out of solid dark wood, worn-looking and seemed quite old. The small window had been left ajar only by a small creak the night before, and the curtains fluttered ever so gently in the calm morning wind. On the desk was a half-burnt candle and a small, worn notebook. Nothing else. Bright yellow sunlight was flooding the whole room, and outside, birds were singing happily.

Slowly, the sleeping figure so began to stir. Little by little she opened her eyes, revealing a still dreamy pair of deep blue sky-spheres. Having climbed out of bed, she made her way over to the small wardrobe and reached for a brown pair of jeans and green woollen jumper. While dressing she suddenly becomes aware of a most welcoming smell that seems to be coming from the kitchen next door.

Surely, it couldn't be..?

Anxious to find out, she makes her way to the door in short, excited steps. Giving the little round metal doorknob a careful twist, she pulls the door open slowly while holding her breath. As she takes in the familiar scenery of the kitchen, her eyes shift from the fully set breakfast table, to the stout figure standing by the cooking stove, clutching a large iron fry pan in his hand, back towards her. She beams at the man as she realizes where the smell was coming from.

Just as she hoped.

Quiet like a mouse, she tiptoes over to him, and gives him a great big hug from behind;

'Good morning Alan.' She sings happily.

'Why Sam, you're up already? And here I was hoping to surprise you.' He smiles sheepishly, scratching his ear.

'Oh but Alan, surprise me you sure did.' She shook her head gently in awe, gesturing at the steaming tower of pancakes next to him. Pancakes were her favourite.

'But Alan, you shouldn't have. You really shouldn't. It must have taken you ages to make so many. And besides, aren't you normally on watch around this hour?'

He shrugged smilingly.

'I got Cathy to take the early morning watch today. After all, it's not every day that a young woman turns seventeen now is there? I wanted to make it special, and I know how you love pancakes. Happy birthday Sam.'

Sam shakes her head again, grinning as best as she can and moves in to give Alan another hug.

'Cathy will be back any minute now, so let's hurry up and get these pancakes on the table shall we?' 

And just as Sam has gotten the huge steaming pile of pancakes on the table, the front door swings open, and a sturdy-looking woman enters, carrying a leather satchel over her right shoulder.

'Why Sam, happy birthday girl. Did you sleep alright?'

'Thanks Catherine, never better!' Sam beams cheerfully.

Catherine nods contently and goes on to place her satchel on the table, taking out a small jar filled with something golden.

'Thought you might fancy a taste of ol' Johns summer honey. Passed by his cabin on my way back her, and mentioning how it's your birthday and all, he insisted I'd give you this.'

Catherine took a seat and handed the jar over to Sam. Sam smiled, and for a moment said nothing, cradling the little jar in her hands as if it were a precious gem.

'I know that you normally don't eat honey any more, seeing as you don't want to take it from the hard-working bees. But I also know how you used to love the taste of it more than anything when you were little and didn't mind such things.'

Sam smiled again and nodded slowly.

'Thanks Cathy. I'll be sure to go give John my thanks after breakfast. It's just too kind of him.'

'Well then...' Alan shot it and placed a steaming kettle on the table. '...Let's eat then. I'm starving!'

He took a large pancake from the top of the steaming tower, and Cathy followed suite. Sam too wasn't slow to help herself to a nice thick golden one, and looked around the table for a knife for the honey. Clearly starved, Alan munched away at his pancake as it was, while Catherine put on some mulberry jam on hers. Having finally gotten on a thin layer of honey, Sam rolled hers into a cone and took a small bite. Chewing thoughtfully, she suddenly froze and looked down, eyes watering. Alan was already downing his second and took little notice of what was going on on the opposite side of the table. It was Catherine who broke the slightly awkward silence, turning to Sam.

'Everything alright dear?'

For a moment, Sam said nothing, then she swallowed and began slowly:

'It's just too precious...'

'I haven't tasted anything like this in so so long. She gave a small smile which Cathy returned warmly.

'Well, I'm glad you like it.'

Sam smiled with her eyes and took another bite, savouring each moment.

For the rest of the breakfast, the three simply sat there in silence, enjoying pancakes covered with their favourite spread while pouring steaming hot tea and coffee into their mugs, mouths, and hearts. There was no need for words or idle talk. Comfortable in each other's company, an occasional recognizing nod or smile was plenty.

As Sam left the table that morning and returned to her room, her heart was filled with the simple joy of being alive and where she was, as well as who she was with.

And where was she?

In the middle of the land's greatest forest, in a small Cabin, with two forest rangers.

Having penned a few lines into her journal, as was her morning habit, she put on a light scarf and a warm jacket. Mornings were still chilly around this time of year, and she knew the wind would be cold where she was going. March was coming to an end, and soon would be spring. She couldn't wait. It was her favourite season, only next to autumn. But wait, winter was wonderful too, and summer somehow always special. Oh, she couldn't quite decide on one favourite. She loved them all. But even so, spring did have a special place in her heart, for many reasons.

Shutting the thick, wooden door of the cabin firmly behind her, she dropped down on one knee by a pile of firewood to tie her laces. She somehow preferred to it outside in fresh air and the light of the day. The boots were light brown, made out of leather, and full of cuts and marks, hinting at rough treatment by their owner. Swinging a dark brown leather satchel over her shoulder, she sat out on the narrow forest path leading away from the small cabin that she had always called home.

After a while she came to a small clearing with a large, old, craning willow. She pauses briefly, tilting her head towards the willow smiling. 'Seventeen years, huh?..'

She recalls what Alan once told her at this very spot, and can almost hear his calm, deep voice in her head:

«This is where I found you Sam. You were still asleep, wrapped only in a thick woollen blanket. The basket in which you lay sat between the roots of that old willow over there. I was on my way back from the early morning watch. There was frost on the ground that morning. But you were warm, and seemed ever so content in your sleep. I looked around for any signs of who might have left you there, but no luck, so I brought you back to the cabin, and the rest you know. I'll never forget that morning.»

Alan had taken her in and raised her like his own. Back when she was little, he worked in pair with another female forest ranger named Sarah, who had been like a mother to her. Sarah was quite a bit older than Alan, so as the years went by, the work became too physically demanding for her. She then moved into the capital and opened a small nursery instead, and Catherine so came to fill in her place. For the past decade or so, the three of them had been living together.

Sam looked at the craning old creature. Almost born under a tree. She smiled to herself playing with the idea. Well that sure explains a lot.

Continuing on on the narrow forest path she somehow becomes more and more aware of the profound beauty and richness that suddenly seems to be all around her.

The sky so clear. The forest path so soft and springy. Fresh and luminous emerald green shoots bursting out of every branch and twine. Trees and bushes that seemed so void of life just weeks ago. Budding flowers too now timidly creep out of their snug blankets of brown autumn leaves. Little specks of white and yellow here and there, soon everywhere, and vast patches of bright blue-star Scilla. Somehow, it's as if the air is a little clearer, the forest bed a little softer, colours and sounds, a little more vibrant and lush with life. Was the gentle chirping of the forest birds ever this amazing? Was the world always like this? She blushed in genuine appreciation of it all.

Whatever the case was, she simply just felt incredibly blessed to be part of it all.

After a little while, she passed a small pine covered hill, and the path opened up to a wide open field of tall yellow grass. In the very centre of the field sat a tall watch tower made out of massive lumber. A long wooden ladder connected the ground to the simple square watch house some 40 feet above. Sam made her way over to the outpost and began climbing the ladder. As she reached the top, she finds Alan half-hidden behind a pair of massive binoculars, gazing out on the surrounding landscape. The pale blue, windswept sky offered the perfect canvas for the green and brown spring-fusion of the Meridian forest below. Sam really loves it up here. Not just the view itself, somehow, there was a sense of peace and freedom, a feeling of lightness and release from everything, that was unlike anything else. Maybe that's why the birds seem so awfully cheerful at times? She smiled at the thought.

She greeted Alan with a simple nod, which went unnoticed. He was used to her coming here, and appeared to be busy scribbling down notes into a journal. Sam sat down on a small stool, and for some time, just gazed idly out on the vast forest below. This was the country's largest and oldest forest. Many of the trees were ancient, not to mention massive. There were pines, spruces, cottonwoods, birches, oaks, chestnuts and many many more. The forest rangers looked after the forest, the trees. And in turn, the trees were looking after the earth. So in some way, by looking after the trees, she and her little family were looking after the earth as a whole. She liked that.

She went on to open her satchel and withdrew a small notebook and a long thin black charcoal pencil. Pressing the charcoal gently down on a blank page, she started to make a rough sketch of the woodland below. It was a simple thing, and she was no Picasso for sure, but it brought her peace. Although Catherine had given her a small set of colour pencils some years ago, she somehow preferred the simple contrasts of black to white. A drawing would never come close to the real thing anyway, so might as well make it stand apart from the real full colour thing by keeping it black and white, she thought. Having finished up her drawing and exchanged a few words with Alan, she began to make her way down the ladder. Around half-way down, a strong gust of wind blew in from the east, making her clutch the ladder tightly for support. She smiled in appreciation. 'You're so alive.' She whispered quietly to herself, shaking her head in mild admiration as she continued downwards.

It was time to give old John her thanks. His little house was just behind that small pine-covered hill she had passed on her way here.

Having reached his house, she wasn't surprised to find him outside on a bench, with a book in one hand, and a steaming cup of coffee in the other. He appeared completely lost in whatever it was he was reading.

'Good day John! How are are you?' She beamed at him.

'Why Sam, I didn't see you there.' He looked up slightly puzzled at the sudden appearance.

'Oh but am I glad you're here. A very happy birthday to you girl. Catherine just told me this morning.'

'Well thank you! Yes, she said so, and also thank you so much for the precious jar of honey. It was really much too kind of you.'

'Well but I'm glad you liked it.'

'Liked it? I love it. I really do. It's the most wonderful thing I've tasted in so long. We all enjoyed it with pancakes this morning. Ah, that reminds me. Here, I made a honey-filled pancake-roll for you.' She opened up her satchel and withdrew a small brown paper bag and handed it to John.

'Well aren't you a sweetheart.' He gave a broad smile, revealing several golden teeth. It was no secret that old John had a soft spot for sweets, and perhaps not surprising either, seeing as bee-keeping had been his lifelong profession.

'This will go great with my coffee.' He winked and grinned so widely his golden teeth showed.

Sam gave a happy little nod in response.

'What are you reading John?'

'Oh, it's an old thing, I've read it too many times already, but still, it's one of my favourite stories to read in spring. Ever heard of “The Secret Garden?”

'Sure! It's one of my favourite stories too. Alan used to read a children version of it to me when I was little.'

'Well there you go.' He took a large sip of his coffee.

Sam smiled.

'Well...I better get going soon. I still got one more stop to make before lunch, and I don't want your coffee to be getting cold while you're busy talking to me. Thanks again for the honey John. It made me really happy you know.'

'Ah, busy as usual I see. Oh but you're very much welcome girl. And likewise, thank you for the pancake. That was awfully thoughtful of you.'

Nodding in quiet recognition, Sam says goodbye to John and wishes him a good day. She then sets back out on the narrow forest path, in long happy strides. After all, the next stop would be the one she had been looking forward to most of all.

The sun was now so high in the sky that the jacket was beginning to feel more like a burden than a friend. She couldn't wait to get it off. Yet what was this? Her feet felt so light. Whatever was this feeling?

Passing busy birds and dazzling beds of Scilla, she finally reached her special spot; the clearing with the craning willow. She recalled the conversation with John about “The Secret Garden”. This place was definitely something like that for her as well. A secret place, hidden away from the rest of the world, where she could feel peaceful and happy. She used to come here with Sarah back when she was just a kid. The willow was craning so far over to one side, that two people could comfortably sit next to each other on its thick gnarled trunk. Bright yellow buttercups were peaking out from amidst the low grass all around, and just a stone-throw away a Fieldfare was searching diligently for food. Sarah and she would sometimes just sit there for hours, talking about anything and everything. Sometimes Sarah would tell stories, or talk about life in the big capital of Heartlantis. And was it a sunny day, they would sit there and have a small private picnic under the calm swaying of the willow's long twines and branches, the soothing sound of rustling leaves filling the air. That was exactly what she was going to do right now.

She really loved sitting on the trunk of living creature, a living tree. Even if Sarah wasn't here any more, she'd never feel alone when she sat there, palms down, feeling the rough bark of dear friend. She opened up her satchel and took out another brown paper bag. Inside was an apple and two pancake rolls, one with honey, the other with mulberry jam. She normally wouldn't eat sweets for lunch, but today, she felt she could make an exception.

As she ate, she remembered something Sarah once told her about people in the capital. Her warm and gentle voice carried the words easily and flowed through her like a welcome breeze on a warm summer's day.

«Many people in the capital are quite different from Alan and I, and so they see things differently too. For instance, when they see a tree, they don't see a conscious living being, or a friend, rather, they might see a resource, something that can be used for their own benefit and convenience. Trees and whole forests are so planted, only to be cut down and sold as building material and other things.»

Sam couldn't imagine a whole forest being cut down. The mere thought gave her goosebumps. Trees were her friends. The forest her home. The earth her mother. Where would she – or anyone else for that matter – be without them? How could nature ever function without trees? And how would people ever get by without a healthy nature, a healthy earth to rely on? Looking after the forest and treating trees with respect was really the only thing that made sense to Sam.

She looked at two sparrows busy making a nest in a nearby oak and took a large bite of her apple. She smiled to herself, slightly blushing as she held it up in front of her. 'This too came from a tree.' She shook her head in quiet disbelief.

'And to think that I may be here, alive and well on a day like this amongst so much good. God, Am I blessed.'

Such were her quiet thoughts as a mild breeze flowed through her hair in friendly greeting. To Sam there was nothing like it. Sitting close to a dear friend while savouring the many fruits of nature under the open sky on a sunny spring day. Could one feel any richer?