Enchanted Cedar

Maka’s A Tale of a Tale

Welcome to Barefoot Cottage, my young friends! I am glad you could make it. Have you traveled far? You must have had a beautiful stroll through Birch Forest, rich in magic and ancient as the very earth on which it stands. Oh, the stories these enchanted woods could tell.

Where are my manners? I have not even been introduced myself yet! Excuse me. My mind does tend to wander now and then. It comes from being such an old elf, I suppose. Even so, who could possibly resist getting caught up in the wonders beyond one’s front door?

My name is Maka, and I live on the edge of Birch Forest with my friends, Juniper and Solstice. We three have adventures every day, and sometimes late into the evenings as well. Each one is unique. Why, just last All Hollow’s Eve—

But you will get to discover that story shortly. Let me tell you another first:

There is a close friend of mine named Brooke Hampton. She often comes to hear my stories (as you are now). One evening I related a particularly memorable encounter to her as we sat beside a crackling fireplace, drinking some tasty hot Chaga, and she wanted to know if I had ever written any of my wiles down on paper. She had children, and she had friends with children, who might enjoy hearing what this elderly elf had to share.

I have no gift for the written word. Oral storytelling, or telling stories out loud, is where my talent lies. Fortunately, Brooke happened to belong among those most magical of people: she was a writer. You must understand how powerful writers can be, since whatever they write can last through the ages, and their words can travel farther than anything else known in the world.

When Brooke offered to write my stories for others to read, I could do nothing else but accept.

Enchanted Cedar was the result, and Brooke captured this story about my friends and me perfectly. She told of our journey home last All Hollow’s Eve, and how we had gotten lost deep in Birch Forest near the Enchanted Cedar. It was like she had been there herself, with her descriptions—and then there were the illustrations provided by Brooke’s friend, a nice woman named Vicky.

I am proud to recommend you to read Brooke’s retelling of this adventure my friends and I had on that magical night. It is the first of many, which she will place on paper, share with young and old, and help to make last forever.

Respectfully Yours,

Maka