Wild Wood by Posie Graeme-evans Page B

focus on one thing you’re drawn to; six, go toward it.”
    Jesse’s head lolls. She’s smiling. Under the lids, her eyes move as if she’s watching something.
    “Mind awake, body asleep. Five, don’t hurry; four, nearly there, all the time in the world.” Jesse’s feet twitch. “Three, so close you can almost touch.” Her feet begin to move on the floor, as if she’s walking. “Two. Stop.” Jesse’s feet are still. “You’re there. One. Just take it all in, no stress, no rush. Nod if you can hear me.”
    Jesse does not respond.
    “Jesse? Can you hear me?”
    She sighs deeply. Nods.
    “That’s good. Very good.”
    Jesse has the slight flush of a sleeping child. Rory stares down at her. He feels the urge to touch her face. But he does not.
    “Excellent. Now I’m going to ask you a number of questions. You’ll find this an enjoyable process and you’ll remember what I ask easily and happily.”
    “Don’t want to.”
    Rory jumps. It’s as if a statue has spoken. His expression clears. “Okay, then, let’s play a game instead.”
    She nods. “I like games.”
    “That’s good, Jesse, that’s very good. So this is the question-and-answer game. Are you ready to play?”
    Jesse frowns. “No. No questions.”
    Rory stares at the girl with intense interest. “Remember, this is just like a movie. You’re watching what’s happening and you’re quite safe and happy and calm. I’m going to count from three to zero now, and when I say zero , you can tell me what you want to do. Okay, Jesse?”
    The girl’s face relaxes. “Yes.”
    “Here we go. Three, even more calm than you were. Two, no anxiety at all, you’re enjoying this process. One, so happy, so positive, and getting ready to tell me what you want to do. Zero.” He bends closer.
    “I want to stay where I am.”
    “Describe what you see.”
    Jesse says softly, “The trees are all around me.”
    “How does that make you feel?”
    The girl chafes her arms. “Cold. The leaves block the sun. But I am happy. I like the forest because of the birds. They fly for me.” Jesse’s left hand rises and sweeps through the air.
    Rory says cautiously, “Why is that?”
    “Because they like me.” Her hand flutters to her lap, like a feather floating on the air. “They sing for me too.” She purses her lips and whistles. At first the sound is soft, then it rises and expands, long, liquid-sounding trills.
    “Good, very good. But you can stop now, Jesse.”
    The birdsong cuts, as if a tape has stopped.
    “What song was that, Jesse?”
    She turns her head toward him. “My friend the blackbird. He has a lovely voice.” Her feet begin to move.
    “What are you doing now?”
    “I am walking.” The feet move a little faster and Jesse’s expression begins to change, as if a tide is rising. A tide of emotion.
    “Remember how relaxed you are, Jesse. How warm and safe you feel.”
    But Jesse’s face works, she’s panting.
    “Breathing deep, nice and slow, Jesse. No anxiety, no fear. You’re safe and warm. Just watch the movie. Remember, you’re not in the movie, you’re a spectator and you can control what you see. You can tell me if you like.”
    “Dark.” Her head turns from side to side. “So cold. Cannot feel my hands.” Her jaw trembles.
    Feet stop. Head stops turning. Breathing . . . stops.
    “Jesse?”
    The girl does not move.
    “I’ll click my fingers three times and you’ll be fully awake. Ready? Here we go.” A light sweat forms on Rory’s brow as he clicks his fingers—once, twice, three times.
    The girl’s eyes remain closed, but her chest begins to rise. And fall. And rise again.
    “Nice and relaxed, that’s good. So calm, so happy to listen to my voice. I’m picking up your wrist now, Jesse, but that does not worry you at all. Can you hear me?”
    A nod.
    Fingers on the inside of one wrist, Rory checks Jesse’s pulse. And swallows. The pulse beats evenly. “That’s good. That’s very good.” He puts her arm