“The forest is my wife,” Vilie had forcefully stated to them time and time again. Yet, his aunts continued to nag him relentlessly on the subject of marriage. He had said it only once to his mother, but his tone so shook her that she would never raise the issue again. In a way she understood her son despite her own longing for grandchildren. His aunts, however, persisted long after his mother had given up. The idea of a man living his life out in the forest – away from the communal life of the village – was so alien to them.The village was the only life they knew, and Vilie had stopped trying to explain why he preferred living on his own. It often made no sense to him either. He still went through months when nothing could touch him except that great loneliness that howled through his being like the wind baying up the valley, relentlessly beating at the wooden house and rudely blasting in through cracks in the walls. The sense of isolation was almost enough to make him abandon his life in the forest and return to the villag -
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