Under the large trees the ground is in the shade, but it is not cool. On the contrary, the heat feels more oppressive in the forest. The air is heavy to breathe and smells of resin, needles and sun-warmed wood. And that special forest scent, too, which Anna-Karin can’t quite define in words. She inhales deeply as she walks along a narrow path through the blueberry shrub between the rough tree trunks.
Around her, the forest is completely still. But she doesn’t feel the peace of mind she has come here to find.
Anna-Karin’s safe places have always been with animals, with her grandfather and in the forest. But she only understood how much these places of refuge truly mattered after she and her mother had moved into an apartment in the center of Engelsfors.
The farm is sold. Grandpa has moved to Sunny Side Nursing Home. But the forest still belongs to her. Anna-Karin has been here practically every day of the summer vacation. Hiding away from other people who are crowding in on her, away from their eyes and from the town, its asphalt and bricks and concrete and ugliness. Here, she breathes more easily. She even dares to dream.
Yes. That is how it is, usually. But today is different.
Every single child in Engelsfors learns that ‘you must stick to the forest paths’. It is part of growing up. Maps and compasses don’t seem to function as they should and all attempts to organize orienteering on field days were abandoned long ago. In the past, such efforts had invariably ended with search parties being mobilized. The forest seems somehow larger when you are in it than when you look at it from the outside.
Several people disappeared without a trace during Anna-Karin’s childhood. Even so, this is the first time she feels the typical Engelsfors response to the forest: a sense of unease. It dawns on her that she has heard not one note of birdsong, not one buzz of an insect.
But she walks deeper into the forest, allows herself to become engulfed.
Sweat starts trickling down her temples. The slope she has been walking up is too gradual for her to have noticed it at first, but now she feels it in her legs. To her right, the sun gleams on a water-filled mining hole. The luminous surface reminds her of how thirsty she is. How could she forget about bringing something to drink?
The path becomes steeper and stonier. It feels as if someone has turned the heat up higher still. Dry leaves are rustling as she pushes branches out of the way. She tastes the salty sweat on her lips and hears her own heavy breathing.
Near the top of the hill the ground flattens and the trees are fewer. Gasping for breath, she sits down on a rotten tree stump. Her lips feel dry under the film of sweat. She is thirstier than ever and dizzy if she closes her eyes. Trying to breathe deeply and slowly doesn’t help, it just feels like breathing the same old stale air over and over again.
She opens her eyes.
The air is shimmering. Colors suddenly seem stronger, smells more distinct.
A dead tree stands in front of her. It looks like a human being who is stretching his arms towards the sky. A hole in the trunk is like a mouth. The flaking bark is the color of ash.
That tree was not there before.
Obviously, that’s ridiculous. Trees don’t sneak up on you. Let alone dead trees.
Anna-Karin gets up. The dizziness hits her again. She must get back home. Must find some water.
But the dead tree beckons her. She leaves the path and walks towards it. Dead branches crackle under her feet. The sound is loud in the heavy silence. Drooping branches of blueberry bushes are so tinder dry they pulverize when she steps on them. She reaches out, touches the hot tree trunk, then keeps walking as if in a dream.
Behind the ghostly tree, the ground falls away abruptly, precipitously. She can see the chimneys of the closed-down factory in the distance.
There is a scattering of other lifeless trees. Tall trunks, bleached bone white by the sun.
It is not only the drought that’s killing the forest, she realizes, without knowing how she knows. The forest is dying for another reason.
She turns slowly. It takes her a few seconds to discover the fox standing very still, close to the tree stump she had been sitting on. Its amber eyes coolly meet hers.
The sun on Anna-Karin’s skull feels like a burning hot weight. As she and the fox watch each other, the sweat is nearly blinding her. She doesn’t dare move, doesn’t want to alarm it.
But in the end she must rub her eyes to try to remove the stinging saltiness.
When she takes her hands away, the fox is gone.
*
Anna-Karin steps out of the elevator in the Sunny Side home. The soles of her shoes make sucking noises against the linoleum flooring in the corridor. Her grandpa is sitting in a wheelchair near the window in the day room. He is so thin. Every time she sees him, he seems to have shrunk a little more.
An old lady with old-lady-style permed curls is snoozing in an armchair. She is the only other person in the room. Grandpa spots Anna-Karin and recognizes her. He smiles at her, his eyes are bright. He is having a good day. Anna-Karin’s heart swells with love for him, almost bursting her ribcage.
She hands him the crossword magazine she bought for him at Leffe’s kiosk.
‘What, no hug today?’ he says and puts the magazine down on the little table-top attached to his wheelchair.
‘You wouldn’t want to. I’m covered in sweat.’
‘Silly girl! Come here.’
Grandpa used not to like hugs. But he is changing in so many ways. Anna-Karin puts her arms gently around the old man’s frail body.
‘Have you eaten anything today, Grandpa?’ she asks once they let go of each other.
‘I don’t get hungry now that I’m not allowed to move around. All I do is sit or lie down.’
Guilt instantly overwhelms her. She will never forgive herself. It had been her fault that the barn caught fire. It had led to Grandpa’s injuries.
‘Besides, it’s far too damn hot.’
‘But you’re drinking properly, right?’ she adds, eyeing the half-empty glass of apple juice on the side table.
‘Yes, yes, of course.’ He waves away her question.
Anna-Karin makes a mental note that she must quiz the staff. Is Grandpa really getting enough to drink? Earlier this summer, he was so badly dehydrated they had to put him on a drip.
‘What have you been up to today, Anna-Karin? Have you been in the forest?’
‘Yes, I have …’
She hesitates. Every time she visits him in Sunny Side, he asks her to describe every detail, all the scents, sounds and small changes that she has observed in nature. But she is not sure that it would be right to tell him what she has seen today in the forest. She doesn’t want to worry him.
‘What’s troubling you, my dear?’
She makes up her mind. She will tell Grandpa about the ominous silence and the dieback in the forest. After all, if there’s anything that makes Grandpa perk up, it is feeling useful. Feeling needed by someone who is eager to find out what he has to say.
As Anna-Karin describes the forest, Grandpa’s face is expressionless but she realizes how tense he is from the way he sits.
When she begins to speak about that dead tree, he takes her hand.
‘You had left the path,’ he says. ‘And that you mustn’t do.’
‘Just a tiny bit.’
‘A step is enough in the forest. It will take you. Something is going on in there. Stick to the path, Anna-Karin.’
She looks at him, full of concern. He has taught her to respect nature, but never tried to frighten her.
‘What do you mean?’ she asks.
But he doesn’t reply. He is looking towards the corridor. Åke, one of his oldest friends, comes in, waving happily. Anna-Karin notes the confusion in her grandpa’s eyes.
‘Oh, there’s Åke,’ she says.
Grandpa clears his throat.
‘Ah, yes. Hello, Åke. Good to see you.’
Anna-Karin smiles at the visitor.
‘Dear girl, you’re becoming more and more like your mother every time I see you,’ Åke tells her.
Anna-Karin forces herself to keep smiling.
A ping from the pocket of her sweatshirt. She fumbles for her phone.
A text from Minoo.