1. THE MISSING BOOK
This story begins in the last magical patch of Rivelin Forest.
The trees there were very tall, the holly bushes thick and glossy, and the moss so soft that, if moss made mattresses, you would probably never get out of bed again.
If you ever walk through Rivelin Forest, you may pass it completely unnoticed.
Humans often do.
They are surprisingly poor at spotting magical things. Mostly because they are usually looking at maps, phones, dogs, or where they left their car keys.
But if you looked closer...
and closer still...
you might notice a tiny round door hidden deep inside the bark of an ancient tree.
No bigger than the palm of your hand.
Behind it sat a village.
Not a human village, of course. Humans would never fit. Their boots alone would squash half the village flat.
One crooked little house with round windows belonged to a very special family.
Inside, a copper kettle bubbled cheerfully on the stove.
It smelt strongly of pine needles and something slightly alarming.
“We are the oldest tree spirits in the forest,” declared Grandma Hazel proudly, stirring the kettle with a wooden spoon.
Little Spruce sat nearby chewing an acorn with serious commitment.
Across the room, Holly sat at the kitchen table with a notebook made from pressed leaves.
She was listening carefully.
Not because Holly was especially sensible.
She wasn't.
But Holly liked clues. Hidden things. Old stories with missing pieces.
And maps.
Maps were excellent.
Sunlight filtered through the round window and slid slowly across the table.
Outside, leaves rustled softly in the branches.
Grandma Hazel adjusted her wooden spectacles.
“Long ago, there were many more tree spirits,” she said.
“Immense forests. Wild creatures. Rivers clear enough to see tadpoles dancing.”
Holly looked up from her notebook.
Grandma's old stories were her favourite.
They always sounded as though they were hiding another story inside them.
Grandma waved her spoon dramatically.
“Everything important was written inside the Great Tree Spirit Book.”
Holly immediately sat up straighter.
“The Great Tree Spirit Book?”
“The very one.”
“Did it really contain spells?”
“Spells, potions, forest maps, remedies, ancient recipes and proper tree spirit etiquette.”
“What's the spirit etiquette?”
“Extremely important,” said Grandma Hazel firmly.
Little Spruce nodded as though it was obvious.
A bubble rose inside the kettle.
Plop.
Nobody paid it any attention.
“Ohh, if only we could find that book,” Grandma Hazel sighed.
Her voice sounded quieter now.
“Perhaps then we'd understand why our forests grow smaller every year.”
She stirred thoughtfully.
“Or grow mighty forests again. The Great Tree Spirit Book knew things we've forgotten.”
For a moment, the kitchen felt very still.
Outside, somewhere deep inside the ancient tree, a branch creaked softly.
Holly thought about immense forests.
Magic nobody remembered how to use.
Everyone spoke about the missing book as though it belonged safely in the past.
As though missing things simply stayed missing forever.
“Do you remember it?” Holly asked.
“The book?”
Grandma Hazel smiled faintly.
“Oh, bits of it. Golden leaves on the cover. Forest maps. Wonderful potion recipes.”
She stirred the kettle again.
“And stories about when the spirit doors stood open.”
Holly frowned.
“The spirit doors?”
“Long ago, dear.”
Grandma Hazel waved her spoon gently through the steam.
“Before everything changed.”
Holly said nothing.
Now, dear reader, this would have been an excellent moment for Holly to forget all about missing books, ancient magic and spirit doors.
Unfortunately, Holly was curious.
Curious people rarely leave mysteries alone.
Grandma Hazel stood up and walked around the table.
“Hmmm.”
She examined Spruce carefully.
Then turned him slightly to the left.
Then slightly to the right.
“Excellent.”
Spruce blinked.
“You're becoming properly tree-spirit shaped.”
Spruce smiled and babbled at Grandma Hazel.
“Rounder,” said Grandma Hazel approvingly.
“Healthier.”
She leaned closer.
“And I believe your very first leaf is beginning to appear.”
Spruce immediately tried to look at the top of his own head.
This proved difficult.
Holly laughed.
“Grandma, why is your leaf bright red?”
Grandma Hazel touched the leaf growing gently from her head.
“Ohh, that?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” said Grandma Hazel, “just like our trees, we change with age.”
She smiled warmly.
“My leaf used to be bright green too. Now it's taking its autumn colours rather seriously.”
“Does it mean you're old?” asked Holly.
“Very old,” said Grandma Hazel proudly.
“Ancient, even.”
“Older than mushrooms?” Holly asked.
“Let's not say ridiculous things.”
Grandma Hazel returned to the kettle.
“Ohh, if only that Great Tree Spirit Book hadn't been lost.”
She shook her head.
“So much knowledge gone. Potions. Forest care. Ancient spells.”
“Proper tree spirits etiquette,” added Holly.
“Precisely.”
Holly watched the steam curl lazily toward the ceiling.
“What happened to it?”
Grandma Hazel grew quiet.
The smile faded from her face.
Outside, the wind rustled softly through the leaves.
“One night,” she said,
“the trees began falling.”
The kitchen grew quiet.
Even Spruce stopped chewing.
“What happened next?” asked Holly.
Grandma Hazel stared into the steam curling from the kettle.
“The book disappeared.”
“The Great Tree Spirit Book?”
Grandma nodded.
“No one knew where it went.”
For a while nobody spoke.
Outside, the wind moved softly through the branches.
Then Grandma frowned.
“Hmmm.”
Grandma tapped the side of her spectacles.
“I remember standing somewhere.”
“Where?”
“It was a long time ago.”
The memory seemed to tug at her.
“A shaft of sunlight was coming through the trees.”
She frowned.
“And I could hear water.”
“Water?”
Grandma nodded.
“Running water.”
The room grew quiet.
“I always meant to remember why that mattered.”
For a moment she looked annoyed with herself.
Then she shrugged.
“But I never did.”
“And now it's bedtime.”
You have completed Chapter 1