Somewhere there is a forest of birch trees without roots that walk on bird feet. Maternal wolf-women hide in wait for Little Red Riding Hood, to either eat her or to protect her. In another part of the forest other birch trees walk on hooves amongst mushrooms capped with bird heads. But this is not a magic forest. You will find no faeries here, no dryads or sylphs, no dragons flying overhead or wizards smoking hashish under a rainbow bridge. There is something oddly alchemical about these birch trees and mushrooms, as if they were constructed by a potent blend of forbidden knowledge and advanced genetic science. And the wolf-women that haunt them might know more about what’s going on than one might think.
