The Forest Ranger and the Little Woodcutter

Illustration by MINH SON

Inside the station, the forest ranger lay curled up, hugging an old radio that made a rattling sound like someone with bronchial asthma. Every now and then he would tap it, the sound would become clearer, but after a while it would crackle again. He turned to the wall, pulled the blanket over himself, reached out to turn down the volume, and in a moment he had fallen asleep. Outside, the wind was still blowing relentlessly, in gusts that were chilling to the bone.

Outside the door, a sharp knocking sound rang out. The forest ranger woke up but still lay still listening, he was familiar with the noises in the night, sometimes it was a dry branch falling and hitting the door, sometimes it was a monkey taking shelter from the rain, fiddling around. In the wind, the sound of rain pouring down from above, pattering on the treetops, mixed with the sounds of nocturnal animals. The candle was almost burned down to its wick. Outside the door, the knocking sound rang out again, this time somewhat urgent, like someone was urging him. He tiptoed out of bed and opened the door to look out. On the top of the betel tree, the wind was writhing and whistling like a wolf. In the dim space, the shadow of a small person stood huddled, carrying a sack of unknown substance on his shoulder.

“Who is it? What is it that knocks on the door this late at night?”, he said.

The shadow remained motionless. The ranger cautiously stepped back inside, turned on the flashlight, and pointed it toward the door. Only then did he realize that the shadow was a boy of about fifteen years old, his body thin and his clothes worn out from the rain. In the darkness, his eyes flashed on his dark, haggard face. “Uncle… let me stay here tonight… I’ll leave tomorrow morning…”, the boy’s voice could not hide his shivering from the cold.

The forest ranger waved his hand to signal the boy to come inside and then quietly went to light the storm lamp. While he was still wondering where to put the sack, lightning suddenly struck across the sky, causing the guard post to sway as if it had been lifted up, a corner of the forest flashed as bright as day. The boy quickly leaned his shoulder and dropped the sack on the ground, hugging his shoulders and shivering, his face showing a look of bewilderment at the raging heaven and earth. After a while of rummaging, the forest ranger took out a loose set of clothes and gave them to him. "You can wear them for now, while I light a fire to keep warm."

The boy took the clothes and went into a dark corner to change. After a while of running around, the wind and thunder gradually died down. Under the firelight, the boy's face softened but still looked exhausted. The forest ranger reached for a pack of cigarettes, took one out, put it between his lips, and held the flickering firewood up to the fire. The boy quietly observed him, occasionally looking out into the thick darkness. From the rocky shore came the sound of a pair of geckos in the forest, the rain had stopped but the sky and earth were still heavy like a soaked cotton blanket, the raindrops still on the tree branches fell silently, drop by drop... drop by drop without a sound.

“Where have you been all night?”, the ranger added more wood to the stove, turned to the boy and asked softly.

“I… went to get firewood. The other day I slept with the guys at the pumping station up there, now they’re back and I’m the only one here…” With a trembling voice, he pulled the sack closer and took out a few pieces of firewood, intending to add more to the stove, but the forest ranger signaled him not to add more firewood. He quietly took a puff of his cigarette, let out a sigh as if touching the night, then reached out to turn on the radio, the crackling sound made the space seem warmer because of the human voice. On the wall, the trembling fire carved the boy’s shadow into a long, motionless black streak. Outside, the rain had stopped, and the wind had stopped blowing through the roof. By the flickering fire, the boy’s face was a bit rosier, he sat closer and warmed his hands against his cheeks. The forest ranger then suddenly remembered and looked up to ask, “Have you eaten anything? Let me see if there’s any rice left in the pot…” Without waiting for the boy to answer, he stood up and scooped a bowl of rice for him. “You can eat the burnt rice for now,” he smiled, a warm smile that made the boy feel more confident.

“I like burnt rice. Before, at home, my mother knew I liked burnt rice, so every time she cooked it, she would cook it on a charcoal stove for a long time. Later, when we cooked on a gas stove, the burnt rice wasn’t as delicious as before,” the boy said while eating, his innocent expression flashing in his clear, sparkling eyes. “Where is my mother now? My house…?” “My mother lives with my uncle and two younger siblings. My house is down there, behind Tho Thanh market.” “You left home to come here, right?”

The boy bowed his head, the rice in his mouth was slurping, a stream of tears flowed down his dark face. The forest ranger silently observed the boy and then spoke in a low voice as if talking to himself.

“When I was born, my mother was gone. I only remember that the place where I grew up was a vast midland, where the dirt roads were muddy all year round because of animal tracks, and the drizzles were wet and cold. I lived with my grandmother. Every afternoon, I stood by the door waiting for her to hurry back from the end of the field. After so many years, my memory is still full of a wild mountainous region. Every night, my grandmother held me in her arms and gently soothed me with lullabies. She waited until I was fast asleep before putting me to bed, in a room with a barred window overlooking the edge of the forest. There, I could smell the grass, the smell of livestock. I lay listening to the wind howling through the forest, the lonely wind blowing through…”

“Were you the only one with your grandmother that day?” the boy asked softly.

The forest ranger did not answer, silently lighting another cigarette. The boy looked intently at the worried eyes engraved on the sad face, a few strands of silver hair falling down the forehead covered with the scars of time. He put his hands behind his shirt, absentmindedly looking at the half-smoked cigarette butts scattered on the ground. After a while, the man held the cigarette to his chest, slowly exhaled the smoke, and murmured again. “The place where I was born is still very wild, the land is arid but all four seasons are always bright with wild flowers. I have no one but my grandmother, all day long I hang around her, alone by the door all day long playing all kinds of games without getting bored. Just like that, I grew up until the day she passed away…”

“How old were you then?” “About my age now.” “What did you do to make a living?” the boy asked curiously. “Doing everything you could to have something to eat and continue going to school. Luckily, the villagers loved you and took care of you when you were hungry. During those days, I longed for a mother so much…” The forest ranger stopped there, fumbling to put tea in the kettle to boil, the fragrant smell of the tea made the boy wrinkle his nose and sniff. Outside, the forest trees suddenly twisted and swayed in the whistling wind, the sound of dry branches twisting and breaking in the wind. By the fire, the boy had already turned his head and fallen asleep…

Early morning. The forest birds were still sleeping soundly, the forest ranger had already woken up, busily stirring the pot of rice that had just been cooked. The boy had been awake for a while, fumbling to change out of his dry clothes that had been hung over the stove, then carefully folded them neatly and handed them to the forest ranger, his eyes filled with worry. “Thank you for letting me stay here for the night! I have to go home now. For the past two weeks, Mom must have missed me a lot. Without me, Mom had to go out to sell alone, and take care of her two younger siblings. Mom was exhausted.”

“I think so! Whatever happens, I should choose to stay with my mother,” the ranger whispered. “But… I am the eldest brother in the family, I have to!” The boy looked up at him hesitantly. “Do you need to help your mother?” the ranger asked gently. “Yes,” the boy said softly.

Out there, the fog covered the forest, here and there the sound of a few birds flapping their wings to fly up to the misty mountain top. The face of the boy behind the flickering fire seemed to thicken, aging before his time. “My mother has had a hard time, since my father passed away, she raised me alone,” the boy murmured. “Then she remarried, my two younger siblings were born, and unfortunately my uncle had an accident and had to stay in one place. My mother worked hard alone, at three in the morning she went to the wharf to wait for the fishing boats to come ashore, then she went to the market to sell until dusk. Now she has to raise the three of us, give medicine to my uncle... I decided to quit school and follow the uncles into the forest to collect firewood…” At that point, the boy was tearful. “Didn’t you say anything?”. “She cried, told me to go back to school, she had enough trouble alone.” The forest ranger pulled the boy closer and stroked his sour, scraggly hair. “Listen, now go back to your mother and your brother, then you have to go back to school. You need to study. Go home, don't let your mother worry! I'm here, come visit me sometimes.” The boy nodded slightly, bent down to lift the sack onto his shoulder, before turning away, he looked back at the forest ranger with lingering gratitude in his eyes.

The boy went down the hill, his small shadow scuttling down the slope, behind him the sack of dry firewood seemed to press down on his thin back, the weight made his steps slant to one side like a ship unloading goods at the dock. The forest ranger watched his shadow, a tearful smile flickering on his face. At the foot of the slope, the boy turned back and waved his hand, far away but the forest ranger could still see his eyes shining like the sun just emerging from behind the clouds.

VU NGOC GIAO

Source: https://baobariavungtau.com.vn/van-hoa-nghe-thuat/202505/nguoi-gac-rung-va-tieu-phu-be-nho-1042697/