One day, Iris thought, she might cross the bridge. She might find out what was on the other side. But she had a fear of the trolls that her parents told her lived beneath it, and a fear of the devils that they said lived across it, and so she stayed where she was. Safe on her side of the bridge.
But that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious about the world across the river. There was something there, there had to be, or the bridge would have no use. It must have been built for a reason.
Iris would spend hours simply sitting, staring at the narrow strip of moss covered wood that separated her from the other side with all of its seductive secrets. The greenery that grew up through the wooden planks was lush and plush and showed her that no one had crossed that bridge in a very, very long time.