The thinner branches low on the trees stung his face and arms as he tore through them.

Breathing hard, he could see the wooden foot bridge directly in front of him now, only several yards away. Terrified, his youthful strong legs pumped frantically, desperation evident on his face as he raced to outrun the apparition closing on him from behind.

5 minutes earlier

Alex crept behind the large redwood. The light in these woods was minimal but he picked his steps carefully so as not to tread on any loose sticks or twigs that might snap giving him away.

He should not be out of bed at this hour, much less in the woods, but he had heard his mother shuffling around the darkened house, quietly opening then shutting the back door. He sat up and watched her dark figure glide across the back yard to the back gate through his window. She slipped through the back gate without a sound and was gone.

He lay back down closing his eyes as he did, hoping in vain sleep might retake him. His mother would surely punish him if she discovered him out of bed, but a nascent sense of protectiveness within him seemed to require him to find her.

It had only ever been the two of them in the house and he worried about her. Finally, unable to stop himself, he had torn back the sheets, dressed and slipped out of the house into the cool night air.

He could not explain why, but he had a sense of where she may have gone and followed it as if drawn into the dark woods beyond the row of houses on their street.

The redwood grove, perhaps 100 trees in all, stood as a monolithic anomaly in an otherwise normal western forest and attracted any manner of inquisitive types…and those seeking the abnormal.

For those in tune with such things, there was an unmistakable power that emanated outward from the grove, the massiveness of the trunks like batteries storing the forest’s energies.

He could see now that a crowd had gathered this night amid the trees, in the center of the giants. As the trees had risen, a sort of natural oval chapel formed in a low spot, the grove’s massive trunks surrounding it like the stone columns of some far away cathedral.

In the glow of the light from a burning fire, Alex could just make out his mother’s face. They stood as a group, encircling the fire, facing east, toward the tree that now concealed him. In front of them knelt a figure as if in prayer, wide shoulders, short hair - a man.

At first, the assembled group, all women, chanted, low and calm. They began to sway in unison, shoulder to shoulder, arms at their sides each holding the hand of the next woman. With time the chant increased in tempo, and the rhythm of the group’s movements slowly, steadily increased as well.

Arms were raised and lowered.

A woman in a mask came forth, approaching the fire and spoke words toward the kneeling figure. The man did not move, head bowed slightly.

Alex couldn’t understand what the woman was saying and in any event he didn’t much care. He watched his mother, center in the line of women, hair adorned with forest trappings. He had never seen her like this; she looked beautiful and wild, her face expressionless, lost in the ritual. There was a grace about her, a delicateness that shown from her as the light of the fire reflected her image to him. He was transfixed as he gawped at her, and a familiar longing, jealousy of her femininity, welled up within him.

The woman closest to the fire, a priestess of some sort, chanted loudly, stoking the women around the circle, an urgency to her tone. She danced and swayed hugely, arms gesticulating wildly as she spoke the words of her incantation. She raised her arms in a climactic gesture, the women around her following suit, their voices loud and feverish. On cue, the women all dropped their hands at once and the flames of the fire suddenly extinguished. An inky blackness filled Alex’s eyes and the forest became eerily quiet.

Alex looked on, confused by what he had seen, his eyes now desperately trying to become accustomed to the sudden darkness. A small glow soon formed within the circle. He blinked rapidly wondering if his eyes were tricking him. As he blinked, the glow steadily grew brighter and larger. A silvery apparition soon took form, head, arms and torso. The spectral image of a woman became clearer now, her form shimmering in silvery light, the definition to her features and dress somewhat blurred and unclear. She stretched her arms as if arising from a slumber and turned to the assembled women. Though he could not hear a voice, the specter seemed to communicate to the silent coven around her.

The priestess, just visible in the entity’s soft light, motioned to the dark figure still kneeling before them. The apparition turned to the man, floating down toward him, his outline becoming clear to Alex, backlit by the specter’s glow. She floated now in front of him, and Alex saw the man’s head tilt up to gaze upon it. Fear grew within the boy, and his heart started to pound in his chest. He didn’t know what he was watching but he felt certain something was about to happen to the man.

The apparition raised her hands to the sky as if summoning the stars, her radiance growing, casting a beautiful and bright silvery light across the assembled group and the great trees beyond. The forest around Alex was lit brightly and he could see his mother and her associates around her smiling pleasantly at the man. The apparition slowly floated up then flew in a wide arc around the grove, gathering speed before soaring up and then diving down fast, straight into the man’s chest. A shriek rang out, high pitched, and the specter emerged slowly out of the man’s back, reforming as she did.

Alex, frightened, let out a yelp, quickly slapping his hand to his mouth. The spectral woman seemed to hear him and cast her eyes directly at his location behind his tree. Her indistinct features suddenly coming into sharp focus; he could perceive every detail of her as if in high definition. She was beautiful, picturesque, with a fierce look about her. She had long silvery hair floating and fluttering around her face and shoulders as though the air around her was gently moving through it. Her high cheekbones and slender nose seemed fitting companions to the devastating smile directed at him.

Seeing him now, her arms stretched out and beckoned him to her.

Alex whirled back behind the tree in panic, frozen, back pressed to the bark. His mind was in overdrive, swirling in fear, but seemed to come back around to action. The forest began to grow brighter around him. He peered back out from behind the tree to see the silvery woman floating slowly toward him, swiftly covering the ground between them.

Fear turned to terror and flooded through him.

Without another thought, he bolted, headed away from the redwoods, back toward the forest edge and his house beyond. His adrenaline-soaked mind blessedly remembered the little wooden foot bridge would be the fastest way across the small stream ahead of him. He did not zag or weave, but ran headlong, as powerfully as his young legs could, through the small trees and saplings that made up this part of the woods. He hazarded a quick glance behind him, careful not to lose his balance. The phantom followed him, gaining on him, her arms outstretched he assumed to grab him.

He ran faster still.

At last the tiny wooden bridge, lit brightly by the specter behind him, now stood only yards in front of him. He hoped crossing it would deliver safety.

Ten yards…

Heart beats pounded in his ears, breaths quick and shallow.

Five yards…

Tears streaked his soft face.

Three more strides from his aching legs took him to the edge of the footbridge.

He planted his left foot hard and leapt for the bridge, a desperation yielding to the slim hope that he might just make it.

As his foot left the ground, he felt a strong hand pushing him hard forward in his lower back. His new momentum carried him well farther, to the far end of the short bridge, and as he tried to land down on his right foot, the force sent him sprawling. He crashed into a rolling heap on the far side of the bridge, coming to rest on the dirt path. Instinctively, he quickly curled into a tight ball. A shriek escaped his lips as he covered his head, expecting the specter’s grasp.

Nothing.

He did not move, a trick perhaps.

Nothing.

Silence.

He chanced a quick glance but saw only utter darkness.

He carefully picked up his head. Indeed, she was gone, vanished into the night. Perhaps his intuition had been right; the bridge was some sort of barrier. Whatever the case, he didn’t hesitate to finish his escape. He picked himself up and began racing the half mile back to the house. He knew this path well and found that the moon graciously lit his way.

He took stock of himself as he ran. Scrapped knee and elbow for certain. He could also still feel the exact spot where she had put her hand on his lower back, just at his belt line. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it was warm and pulsing and it felt as though that warmth was spreading as he ran. Soon, he felt a strange tingling around his hips and into his groin. The sensation spread across his skin down his legs and up his torso, around his chest then up through his face and around his head. A dull ache rose into his abdomen and he stopped running, doubling over as the sensation continued to roil through him. He could feel things moving around, shifting in his groin, and soon he felt nothing between his legs, save for a very new sensation.

A new wave of panic flooded through him, and he bolted again for home, running full out. Tears streamed down his face, adrenaline and fear giving way to emotion. By the time he hit the back door to his house his sobbing was difficult to control. He kicked his now loose shoes off at the door, sensibly understanding muddy tracks would give his evening’s adventures away. He dashed down the hallway to the lone bathroom, sliding in his socks to the doorway. His hand swiped across the light switch bringing a halogen white glare to the tiled room, illuminating his reflection in the mirror as it did.

He squinted in the light and took in his image between sobs. In the large mirror above the sink, his soft face was besmirched with dirt and a few red marks from his dash through the trees. He looked down at his shorts, not wanting to confirm what he already knew. Hesitantly, he unsnapped the button and pulled down the fly, letting the shorts drop to the floor in a heap. His white fruit-of-the-looms seemed bagy in the front, further confirming his fears. Slowly he hooked his thumbs into the elastic band pulling it outward revealing the scene that was his crotch.

Nothing.

The waist band snapped back into place, and he rushed down the hall, his sock clad feet getting no purchase on the hallway’s hardwood floor. He crashed through the bedroom door, sobbing, and flung himself on his bed, burying his face deep into his pillow. Could tell his body felt different laying as he did on his stomach, reminding him of the change. He cried for some time, reliving the frightening events of the past half hour, trying to comprehend them and the notion of his morphed body. As emotion gave way to fatigue, his weeping subsided, and his breathing grew calm. Soon he picked up his head up from the warm, tear stained pillow.

The light beside his bed was on, throwing a soft glow about the room. Near his bed stood his mother, beautiful, a forest crown in her hands, smiling empathetically down at her boy. He bolted upright trying to think of the words to use to sidestep the punishment that was sure to be coming. She said nothing but sat gently beside him wrapping her long arm around him. She smelled of the redwoods and faintly of a campfire. Relieved, his emotions flooded back to him, and he wept again, burying his face in the soft fabric of her long dress. She swept her hand across his head, soothing him until he was done.

He thought to explain what happened but knew his words couldn’t possibly make sense. He wiped his eyes and bravely stood up to show his mother the outcome of the evening’s events. Silently, he took a step and turned to her, bringing his hands to his underwear. With a deep breath, hands trembling, he carefully pushed his cotton briefs down to his knees exposing himself for her inspection.

His mother smiled in recognition, her eyes going soft giving him a reassuring look despite his remonstrations. She stood as he pulled his underwear back up over his new sex and brought him into another hug. She looked down at her little girl and asked her why she was so upset. Confusion crossed Alex’s face as if the problem should be obvious.

Her mother let her go and with a knowing smile, took a few steps over to her former son’s dresser. She pulled open the second from the bottom drawer, bent down and dug around behind the three sweaters he never seemed to wear. She stood back up and turned, holding one of her long satin nightgowns he had previously hidden, the hem almost touching the floor.

Alex balked, pretending she had never seen the nightgown before. Her flush red cheeks suggested otherwise. She hung the nightgown over her arm and returned to the dresser, slowly pulling out several more items: a silk camisole, one of her slips and a dark, satin like leotard she used performing in her dance company. She laid them on the bed in front of Alex.

Her mother looked at her and spoke. Could she not see that she no longer needed to hide? The spirit had blessed two men that evening, one in the ritual circle and one spying in the woods. Her body now matched what her mind already knew she was meant to be, and the pain she felt in hiding, the confusion she lived with, would no longer haunt her.

Alex began to cry again as the realization that the burden she had once carried, a girl trapped in a boy’s body, was gone. She was free.

Her mother tenderly kissed her on the head then led her young daughter to her own room. She helped her undress and then pulled the long nightgown over Alex’s head, the cool fabric dancing across her skin, the hem just touching the top of her feet. She went to her own dresser and pulled out a similar nightgown to wear then sat Alex at her vanity to slowly brush the evenings events out of her short hair. She then brushed out her own long hair and the two women, mother and daughter, got into bed, turning out the light as they did. Her mother came close, wrapping her arms around Alex, her daughter, as exhaustion took hold and sleep quickly claimed the young girl.

Not long after, a soft light shown through the bedroom window, the glowing figure of a beautiful woman framed by the windowsill. She smiled upon her children, content in her work and faded again into the darkness of the night.

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