Isobel had come to understand the truth of the Wildwood far quicker than the Wood, or anyone else, had expected. This was, for the most part, a combination of Isobel’s complete open-mindedness in the face of every one and every thing she encountered and the fact Holt the Cat had decided that “give her a … More Where Stories Come True
Spring had come in all its glory, filling every inch of the Wildwood with light and life. Between the greening trees what ground that wasn’t a dusky haze of bluebells, or shining white with wild garlic, was lush with grass dotted through with celandines and anemones, archangels and orchids, vetch and violets. The banks of … More New Beginnings
CW: death of a loved one The Witch had long ago become used to living in the Wildwood, cradled and protected by the trees surrounding her cottage and garden. Yet she had not always lived with such enclosed horizons. Her cottage was not much different from the one she’d grown up in, with her Grandmother, … More I Shall Go Into The Hare
‘Have you heard her yet?’ Jimmy’s head, mop of dark curls topping a hopeful expression, appeared around the door of Wayland’s smithy, just as it had every morning since the start of February. ‘Not yet, lad,’ Wayland replied, just as he had also done every morning, ‘You’ll know when we do.’ Jimmy’s expression fell. ‘But … More Laughing Betsy and the Village Wassail
Wolf did not howl much any more. Why would he? What point would there be when there was no one left to answer him? Oh the village dogs wailed to the moon every now and then but it was but a pale imitation of the pack song he longed to hear. He was an anomaly, … More Lone(ly) Wolf
When I ended the last of the Twelve Tales of Flashmas with “The End for now …” I didn’t have any continuation planned. It was simply that I’d loved writing them, wanted to keep working in this particular version of my Wildwood, and those two little words after The End seemed like a good way … More Flashes of Feathers: More Tales from the Wildwood
The Rhythm of Life The Village church had rung in both Christmas and New Year, the peals echoing through the Wildwood even though the Wood’s inhabitants celebrated neither. Now the grey days of January had set in, days when it was easy to let the optimism of the December celebrations crumble in the face of … More For the twelfth tale of Flashmas the Wildwood gave to me …
Joan tells the Witch a Story ‘And it wasn’t a lie. I had spoken to the King and he hadn’t expressed any concerns whatsoever about my plan in the course of our conversation.’ The Witch grinned at Joan and topped up her mug. ‘He needs better councillors. How could they not hear what you weren’t saying?’ ‘If it wasn’t … More For the eleventh tale of Flashmas the Wildwood gave to me …
Hare goes a-leaping It didn’t matter that they’d been dancing the night before, every soul in the Wildwood rose well before dawn, wrapped themselves against the cold and lit lanterns and torches to light their way. Soon a procession was winding through the trees, following the path to the eastern entrance of the Wood. The … More For the tenth tale of Flashmas the Wildwood gave to me …
The Village Yule Ball Every year, the day before the Winter Solstice, the Village Hall was transformed into an extension of the Wildwood, decked out by the Wood’s inhabitants with holly and ivy, pine and mountain ash, hawthorn and spruce. This largess of greenery was finished off by an explosion of paper chains that the … More For the ninth tale of Flashmas the Wildwood gave to me …
Kizzia Mildmay 