Wood Devil's Woe

Despite the howling wind outside the fire crackled softly in the hearth, its glow painting golden flickers across the wooden walls of our home. A haven of comfort in a wild land. Sylvie - My daughter - sat cross-legged on the rug, her eyes wide with curiosity, her little hands cupped around a half-finished candle she had been shaping from beeswax and spices.

“Mama,” she asked, tilting her head, “Why do we always carry candles when we go through the woods?”

I set my tome aside and leaned forward, resting my hands on her shoulders gently. “Because of the Wood Devils,” I whispered, watching her carefully.

She blinked, unsure whether to be afraid or intrigued. I continued.

“They are the watchers of the deep woods, standing still as stone against the trees, so that even the keenest eyes might mistake them for the forest itself. Some say they are the spirits of the lost - men and women who wandered too far and forgot their own names. Others say they were never human to begin with, but something older, something born from the lifeforce of the earth.”

She shivered but did not look away, her blue eyes glinting in the firelight. “What do they do out there?”

I hesitated for a moment, listening to the wind again, as if the trees themselves might answer. “They watch,” I said at last. “Silently. Patiently. You might pass a dozen of them and never know—until you turn, and see that the shadows have eyes!”

Her eyes seemed to fill with fear - I reached out, putting a comforting hand on her cheek. “Some say they are harmless. That they are guardians of the forest, and only wish to see who dares to tread their land. Others… others say they are less kind. That those who stray too far from the path might feel an icy hand at their back, or hear their name whispered from nowhere. That they do not like intruders.”

“Then why do we go into the forest at all?” she said with a puzzled look.

“Because we must,” I said simply. “The forest is ancient, and full of life—berries and roots to gather, herbs for medicine,
streams that run clearer than glass. Through the forest is a path, that we must follow to reach other places. But we must go with care, and with respect.”

Sylvie looked down at the candle in her hands, its scent of pumpkin and ginger still clinging to the wax. “And this… this light keeps them away?”

I smiled, “Yes! The Wood Devils do not like the scent of pumpkin and ginger, nor do they like fire. Some say it reminds them of a life they once lived. A burning candle sends them scattering into the trees. So if ever you must pass through the woods, dear Sylvie, take your lantern. Keep the wax candle burning bright inside, and walk steady. Do not run, do not look for them. If they are watching, let them watch. But they will not come near.”

She nodded, gripping the candle a little tighter, as if it were already lit. I leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Outside, the wind sighed through the trees. And for a moment, just a moment, I wondered if something out there was listening.

• 9 oz. amber vessel with 7.5 oz. wax fill
• 3x2 White Label with with a semi-gloss finish and square corners
• Average burn time 50-60 hours
• 100% cotton wick
• Non-toxic. Contains no lead, plastics, parabens synthetic dyes, or phthalates