water. As she followed the sound, she discovered with joy that it was, in fact, a waterfall.
Catherine stared at the waterfall in amazement. It was just like something from an exotic island. She could smell the water as it exploded over the cliff’s edge. She approached it timidly, almost wary of its incredible magnificence. At any rate, she thought, she could wash the many scrapes that dotted her arms and legs in the sparkling spring. She removed her shoes and socks and tentatively dipped her toes in the little, churning stream at the bottom of the falls. It was cool but not cold, so she plunged her feet in. She bent down to scoop water over her bare legs. The flash of a silver trout caught her eye as it passed and she jumped, half expecting it to pause at the surface on its way by to speak to her, just as the one in the Brothers Grimm Tale of the Fisherman had. She laughed at the thought. Yet it would not have surprised her.
Catherine let the water, cool and soothing, trickle over her legs. She gathered several more handfuls and splashed them over the cuts and bruises on her arms. She realized that she was thirsty, too. Carefully, for the bottom of the stream was lined with sparkling rocks, she stepped closer to the falls, leaning forward to scoop some of the freshly falling water into her cupped hands. It tasted as sweet and refreshing as she imagined, and she swallowed several mouthfuls in large gulps. She was surprised how thirsty she was and drank until she had her fill. Then she simply stood there, admiring the majestic beauty of the waterfall. It was truly enchanting. But if she was going to make camp, she knew that she would have to find her way back to the trail soon.
Catherine cautiously stepped from the stream and looked toward the forest from which she had come, when she suddenly noticed that the sun was unusually high in the sky. This seemed strange. Wasn’t it later in the day? She tried to remember roughly what time it had been when she fell, but she couldn’t. Yet she had already eaten lunch and was fairly certain that the better part of the day was behind her. By all counts, it should have been late afternoon. How, then, could it now be coming on midday? Surely she had not lain unconscious overnight! But just then it occurred to her that her stomach was empty. She once again had that strong sense of unreality and wondered if she had suffered more serious injuries in the fall than she originally thought. Perhaps she had a head injury. She vaguely remembered the large stump sticking up out of the ground. She felt around her head for bumps.
But at present it seemed more important that she eat something. Her backpack was stuffed with food, but just at that moment she spotted shimmering patches of red scattered about in some of the bushes nearby. Upon closer inspection, she saw that they were raspberries, and they were so plentiful they were practically falling off the branches. Looking around, she could see that the lush bushes were growing everywhere all along the little stream. Catherine tentatively picked one of the berries and touched it to her tongue. It was tart and sweet, just like a wild raspberry. And the bushes were overgrown with them. What a find! There were so many berries that, without ever taking a single step in either direction, she was able to eat her fill.
While Catherine was gorging herself on raspberries, a strange notion came into her head. She began to think that the berries had appeared as a result of her desire to eat. But after considering it, she rejected the idea as preposterous. The berries had been there all along; she had simply not noticed them before. The waterfall had absorbed all of her attention.
But there was no denying that there was something special about the place. Contented by berries, she returned to the stream and sat down on the bank. She watched the running water flash and sparkle as more gleaming trout passed by. The sight of them pleased her. She stretched out on the bank lazily, resting on her side so that she could gaze down into the gurgling stream. How pleasant it was to simply watch the water trickling over the glimmering rocks as it rushed along its merry way. How benevolent its cheerful sound, tinkling contentedly as it hurried off to—where? Catherine felt peaceful and serene as she pondered this. She suddenly couldn’t remember what those things were that had bothered her before. After a while, she rolled over onto her back and looked up at the sky.
But what madness was this? Suddenly the sun was sinking into the horizon!
Catherine jumped up and looked around. She was yet again assailed with a nagging sense of unreality. How could high noon so quickly have turned to dusk? How long had she been lying by the bank, staring down into the water? How was it possible that she, Catherine, a person who normally couldn’t sit still for a moment, had wasted an entire afternoon looking at water?
She decided it was time to leave the strange little forest glen and quickly surveyed the area one last time, looking for the direction from which she had come. She wandered all around, searching for something familiar or for some evidence of her footsteps. But try as she might, she was unable to find a pathway out, and it was quickly getting dark. She would have to wait until morning. She was surprised to find that this did not disturb her overmuch, but she regretted not bringing her backpack with her when she had wandered off. At least then she would have had supplies. How would she manage to get through the night now? In a little while, it would be too dark to see and she would be left fully exposed to the elements.
Or would she? With a surreal sensation of awed disbelief, her eyes fell upon a little nook at the base of the foothill that rose up to one side of the waterfall. At first glance it appeared to be a shallow cave, just the right size for her. Catherine approached it with interest. It was indeed a small alcove that had formed out of the earth. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be the result of erosion, for there was a large tree sitting directly above it. All along its inner cavity could be seen smooth, wooden roots, jutting out here and again over the ceiling and walls like sturdy brown beams. The cave did not recede so far into the earth as to frighten or alarm, but was just enough to protect someone from the elements. The floor was covered with large, crisp leaves that had apparently fallen from the tree above. Finding the little alcove filled Catherine with a sense of well-being. She was beginning to believe that this forest really was enchanted. It was certainly the most enchanting place that she had ever been. She went to work immediately, gathering more leaves from the ground outside the cave and stuffing them into the corner where she planned to sleep. As she rushed to prepare her little nest before it became too dark, she suddenly caught, from the corner of her eye, the sparkle from a lightning bug. In that same moment, the last bit of the sun disappeared behind the mountain.
It was fully dark now, but look! More lightning bugs were—one after the other—coming alive, blinking so brightly (for her benefit alone, she now believed) and so frequently that her campsite was kept in a steady stream of soft light. Catherine stared, openmouthed, at the wondrous spectacle.
She began to think that somehow, in the course of her fall, she must have landed in some kind of enchanted world, perhaps even crossing over into an entirely different dimension.
Catherine snuggled comfortably into her cozy little bed inside the cave, but sleep was not quick to come. She was plagued by gently rising waves of restlessness, brought on, no doubt, by the extraordinary things that had occurred. Her mind drifted aimlessly, gliding through random memories of enchanted forests and fairies. As her thoughts meandered over the folklore, her exotic surroundings remained uppermost in her mind. She thought about the peculiar events of her day, unconsciously allowing her hand to trail over the length of her body and lazily letting it come to rest between her legs.
The fireflies continued to light up the sky around Catherine, and stars blinked at her from far off in the distance. She was mildly surprised to find that she was aroused. Her fingers had been absently—and very lightly—circling and caressing her body, and they were having an effect. She tried to recall the last time she felt aroused. It was not since she had started taking the antianxiety medication. That, too, was tucked away in her backpack, she suddenly remembered. She hadn’t taken one since before the fall. But how long ago had that been? She had lost all track of time. She remembered how quickly the sun seemed to set from its midday position; she would have sworn that no more than a single hour had passed in that space of time. But was it time that had changed, or was it her perception that
