The Legend of the Lady in the Forest by Jo Gregory
Deep in a woodland glade, sunbeams filtered through the branches of the ancient oak, ash and thorn. A path woven by deer was well worn and threaded through the undergrowth. The only clue that someone lived there was the small curl of wood smoke and the tip of a small chimney within the leaves. It was an ancient dwelling with worn walls, clambering roses and small windows under ragged thatch and ivy. The roof gave a haven to many creatures including sickled swallows diving for insects to feed their young.
No one came here. Legends and folklore passed across generations had warned of a woman, elusive and strange sometimes seen wandering the woods with a basket and muttering. In local hostels word would pass of her ability to vanish with a swirl of her old cloak.
The girl was desperate. Her chest heaved and her breath was ragged. Her dress was torn through running in blackthorn thickets and brambles, her hair tangled in a halo around her head. She had run like the wind from the village, morning dew soaking her clothes. Her face showed her determination as she paused and then opened the old gate to the cottage beyond. Eyes fixed on the door to calm he nerves she knocked and waited. No sound came from within but the door eased open slowly and after a moment she crossed the threshold.
