It happened that in the early days of civilized man a sackful of willow seeds was sprinkled over a hill on the outskirts of a farming village in western Europe. By some great miracle, not a seed was wasted; each gave birth to a healthy – if such sad trees can be said to be so – willow just as if it had been the first. Over time, a dark wood sprang up which completely covered the hill and surrounded its edge with a ring of hollow, weeping sentries. For decades there was little for them to watch over, and so they swayed and sighed unhappily to themselves. Then, though, just as they had begun to give up hope of ever having any treasure to conceal – which is the natural desire of all trees – there occurred a human tragedy in the farming village.

It began as many human tragedies do, with a new discovery. An old farmer was clearing an area behind his hut one morning in order to start a vegetable garden. Although he was an old man, he was new to the village and had not yet settled himself in his new home, so it was understandable that he might still have some work to do to make himself feel at ease. He had enjoyed a small vegetable garden in his old village and, as he went about pulling weeds and turning the dirt the way he had done with his first garden, he nurtured the idea that fresh vegetables were the only things his new life lacked. It was during this activity that the farmer discovered what seemed to be a weed but which could not be so easily extracted from the soft earth. Stooping, he dug earnestly, hoping to free the root, until he had completely uncovered the plant. The weed-like vegetable ended promptly in a purplish bulb and was unlike anything he had seen before. Forgetting all about his garden, the old farmer took his new discovery inside and attempted to determine its nature. He called his young son in, but the boy denied ever having come in contact with such a plant. Quite sure that he had never encountered anything similar himself, the farmer decided to perform as many tests upon it as he could imagine. Being somewhat disinclined toward the sciences, though, he was able to discern very little except that the bulb of his new plant had an extraordinarily suggestive odor. At one time or another it made him think of every olfactory delight of which he had ever partaken and perhaps a few which hovered at the edge of his understanding and seemed as much like vague memories as they did products of his imagination. If sirens had odors they most surely were such, for he soon found himself unable to think of anything but the plant. Though it was against his better judgment, the farmer felt powerless to resist; it was not long before he had consumed the vegetable from tip to tail and was licking his lips compulsively. Immediately he felt a change come over him which was unlike any he had felt or witnessed. His blood seemed to find a swifter path through his veins and travel it with an unsettling heat and ferocity. No longer himself and not quite human, the old farmer stumbled senselessly out of his hut and onto he main road where a group of children were throwing pebbles. The mere sight of him was enough to petrify each, and he descended on them as they stood like garden statues. The farmer’s own son among them, the children watched helplessly as the disease swelled the man’s eye sockets and poured foam out of his throat, and were not released into motion until the creature had mindlessly thrown one of their companions to the ground. Although they could not know that the boy was dead already, none paused to aid him or even to look back. Only the farmer’s son stayed to watch the old man flee toward the willow forest.

The trees, who observed all but commented upon nothing, were sympathetic to the lurching, drooling figure and hung themselves lower in order to protect him. They could not huddle tightly enough, though, so that the farmer’s son could not find him, and this the boy did with surprising efficiency. Fortunately for the boy, though, his father had succumbed to an unnatural fatigue shortly before and was fast asleep beneath a young willow. Knowing somehow that the danger was far away, he sat down nearby and waited. Hours later the old man awoke, cramped and aching, but in a state of groping lucidity.

“You must run,” he told the boy. “I can feel that it wants to come back.” The boy calmly refused, knowing that there was no place for him in the new village and encouraged by the return of his father’s senses. The old man looked around wearily, and his clouding eyes rested on the tree whose roots he had slept upon. “She will protect you.” With respect and trust for both the tree and his father, the boy climbed easily onto a branch that was strong enough to hold his weight but high enough so that the beast which was returning to the old man’s body could not reach him.

For nine days the boy slept in the arms of the willow and took advantage of his father’s brief periods of calm to forage for food and drink from a nearby stream. Many times the old man ordered his son to leave, but the boy could not bring himself to obey. The old man could not understand why the boy would not return to the village and make his own way. The boy knew his father’s strength and had accepted that he did not possess the qualities which would allow him to live among those he could not understand, but he did not have the heart to admit this flaw to his father. Instead, he poured his energy into speaking kind words to the old man and remaining in the wood out of loyalty and respect. Although the willows’ very beings had been justified by the presence of the sick old man and the young boy, they were unable to conceal them indefinitely. To the trees’ infinite dismay, a mob descended upon the two one afternoon as the beast attempted to steal the boy from his protector’s arms. Because the old man’s frenzied clawings were something he had seen often by then, the boy was not frightened; he had simply climbed out of his father’s reach and curled his arms around the trunk of the willow. To the villagers, though, it was obvious that the boy was in great danger and they were as one mighty club come up the hill and through the wood to smite the demon which had so unknowingly snatched away one of their young. Even then the aggression of the mob was not fully expressed, and it thoughtlessly beat and ripped at the creature until there was nothing left and it was forced to turn in on itself. Knowing very well the nature of mobs, the boy foresaw this and let himself fall easily into its midst.