It is important to face our fears, she tells herself, toeing the edge of the Forest.

Not that she is afraid, per se, only hesitant to learn that which she does not know. Afraid of what she might find within herself, perhaps, lurking in the shadows of her young, bleeding heart. She has them, certainly. Like everyone else, I suppose. She is not alone in that, not special.

With a defiant gulp, she is swallowed into the darkness of the autumnal woods.

Crisp air emanates from within and she draws in deep breathfuls of it to steady herself. There are shadows, yes, but here and there are patches of weak sunlight filtering through. Despite their obstacles, she reminds herself. Despite the odds, they make it through. The smile that finds Golde’s face is winsome when the light passes over her. It is home, that light. Her sanctuary. Her birthright. All she has ever known.

Until now, with the shadows stretching deeper and darker the further in she ventures.

She wagers that life has been too easy. Maybe that is why she has never picked at the scab of her family’s past, never delved into the history that she knows was often a sinking stone. Childhood had passed like a spring shower. Like soft, gentle rain growing blossoms in a riot of color. She had seen the faces of her mother, her father, and her twin. She had been allowed to commit them to memory (sweet, sugary memory) before time cut in as it so often did for others less fortunate. It had been all anyone could hope for, her upbringing.

The years had marched on and she had left them, not with a hard, chiseled heart, but with one that remained open, earnest, gentle. Only to explore the world and share the love that she was given. To freely give it where she could.

So why risk the shadows now?

Why tempt fate?

Her breath catches and her feet still at the questions. Because the parts that make me up are more than my bright-heart. Because I am made of broken pieces, missing pieces. They are all within me. And I need to understand all of me to do any good in this life. Because she saw the occasional desperate edge to her father’s face, noted the watery gleam in her mother’s eyes at times. Like a windstorm waited to tear apart Golde’s field of wildflowers. Like the soft, spring rain would turn into a deluge and drown out their happiness at any point. Like they were waiting for it all to come crashing down.

And maybe it is that apprehension that had taken root in her sweet soul and created cracks.

For as she makes her way ever-further into the dampening gloom, she starts to tremble. Branches look like many-armed monsters reaching to grab her as they wave in the breeze. Hoots and chitters and growls sound through the negative spaces between the trees. She thinks she sees another this far out in the distance, but she finds it is only an elk, and holds her tongue. A shame, she thinks, I could have used the company.

Golde reaches tentatively towards a dark, inner corner inside her, trying to distract herself from the fears that loom all around. Here, that feeling of not belonging exists. That fear that she will never find where she really needs to be. Or worse, that she will choose the wrong place. Golde examines it closely, draws it in to understand it better. I think I am worried that nothing will compare to the security I had growing up, the joy. There was so much of it, she grins a little, remembering. And oh, how the memories almost draw her away from the journey she has put herself on!

But it is a silly fear, come to think of it. Home is where our hearts burn fiercely, not a place, but a feeling. And her heart has always been lit. She doubts anything can extinguish it, in this lifetime or the next.

Her smile grows.

She pushes at another shadow, lets it pounce at her. Here, the fear that she won’t live up to her own expectations crawls. The worry of her own high standards for herself. She reminds herself, as softly as she can, that she can only do her best at the end of every sunset. Maybe she gives it her all and maybe she doesn’t succeed - but she will always try with a warrior’s strength.

Her smile grows.

The trees pack even more tightly deep into the Forest. Roots become snaking, warped hazards that slow her pursuit down with each step. But still she goes. It is so dark now that the sun is like a strange legend she still believes in despite the evidence against it. Golde has never willingly been without its warmth on her back during the day, or at least its light. But she is no longer trembling, she finds. She is no longer afraid of what creeps around her, only what lingers within.

There is another monster in another corner of her heart she must slay. Understand, not slay, she corrects herself. Doubt, the biggest beast of all. It has claws and clamors at her like she is a thing to be feasted on. And Golde knows that it will still sneak up on her, still hunt her, at times. But she will no longer wait for it to catch up. She will instead face it. She will learn its movements and its motivations and be ready for what it tries. She will speak its name like a friend, like it will make her stronger for knowing it. Doubt, she will not destroy, but invite in to learn from it.

Her smile grows.

And now she shines with it, that smile, through the darkness even. Golde sees a slim patch of sunlight ahead, finally. She feels its magnetic pull. She feels her feet stir in answer to its promise of warmth, security, belonging, and ignores it. Instead, the black and silver mare turns back the way she came from. She starts down the path, but before she takes that first step, she dips her head towards the darkness gathered between the trees. To give thanks, to show that she understands more - that she will never forget.

And gold blossoms all across her until she is resplendent with it.