I climb higher in the old oak until I can see over the tops of the trees I look in one direction all the way to Grandfather Mountain I look in the other direction all the way to the village where the peoples live Nothing seems wrong Below me the green forest sways in the wind The crooked road winds through it like a scar I scan the road up and down I hate the idea of a people on it but that is allowed as long as they keep moving No There is no one Knock Knock Knock There Over by the abandoned cottage I see him A little people the size of an ant He’s not on the road where he is allowed He is in the forest There is a people in our forest 2
I don’t take the road That’s for them and besides my way is faster I run along the deer path leaping barefoot over roots and rocks The screaming-blues dive at me protecting their nest but I am past their tree in a moment I stop short almost falling A spider web stretches across the path sparkling with dew I go around careful not to break the spider’s pretty work and I start to run again When I get near the cottage I slow down The knocking has stopped I don’t see anyone but I know he’s there I can smell him or at least I think I can Like all peoples he smells like soap and taking baths and eating with a fork Horrible 3
The door is wide open and an old white cow stands in the garden patch chewing weeds In front of the cottage is the kind of tree whose leaves look shivery when the wind blows It is called a shivery tree I climb it and hide in the branches Even with my bent arm no one in the forest climbs as well as I do A people comes out A man-people He is tallish and oldish and baldish I see that he has some big nails in one hand and a hammer in the other I shrink back afraid A nail would burn me Anything made of iron would burn me The man-people climbs a ladder and bangs the nails into the roof knock knock knock He’s fixing the house He thinks he can live here In our forest 4
