Grandmother's Rules

 The forest was dim, lit only by the flicking moonlight of the waning crescent moon. A movement of air followed by the dying squeal of a mouse gave evidence that there was life in the forest, despite none being visible.

Except for the eyes.

Luminescent orbs that lurked in the shadows, always watching. In brief moments, they would reflect the flicking moonlight, revealing hints of a hunger that was somehow held back. A hunger, that seemed directed at you.

No matter how often you walked this path, the eyes always brought dread to your heart. You knew, just as well as you knew your own name, that those eyes would get you if you ever disobeyed Grandmother's rules.

First: never leave the path. No matter how enticing something appears off into the trees, no matter if it is a flower just out of your reach, never leave the path.

Second: always wear your cloak with the hood up. It limited your vision a little, and got uncomfortable in the middle of summer, but the hood had to stay up.

Third: never speak your name in the forest. Not to yourself, not to Grandmother, not to any stranger or creature you might meet. In the forest, you were nameless.

Fourth: never travel on nights of the full moon or new moon. Any other night was fine, if you needed to travel at night, but those nights were ill luck to any traveler.

Fifth: never knowingly kill in the forest. Doesn't matter if it's a bear or a bug, knowingly killing anything in the forest brings terrible consequences.

Those were the rules my Grandmother taught me, when I was small and she could still make her way into town to visit us. My siblings laughed at her stories if the forest and what happened to people who broke the rules. I listened, and then put what I learned into action when Grandmother fell ill and needed help getting supplies from town back to her cottage.

As time went on, she delegated all the town chores to me. Shopping for supplies, selling her tonics on market day, all the things that gave her reason to come into town.

It's been so long since she last left the forest that I don't even remember what Grandmother's name is.

Still, I care for her, and she cares for me. So long as she needs it, I'll bring her supplies from town every time I visit her home.

Even if it means enduring the eyes of the forest while I obey Grandmother's rules.