The forest had the kind of silence in which one could commit a murder and no one would ever know. It made every horror movie ever filmed tap me on the shoulder and whisper, “You should run”. Which, naturally, was the moment my survival instincts clocked out, shrugged, and left me unsupervised.
I followed Cewyn because she seemed the least likely to feed me to anything. She kept a patient pace, the kind you use with startled animals and confused toddlers. Rowan walked ahead of us, moving with the steady confidence of someone who never tripped over roots or made poor decisions involving glowing doors. I, on the other hand, nearly tripped on a patch of moss that absolutely shifted on purpose.
Cewyn glanced back. “Careful. The ground is aware here.”
“The ground is aware,” I mumbled. “Fantastic. I have always wanted my flooring to judge me.”
She didn’t laugh, but something about her silence told me she was filing me under “amusing but fragile creature”.
The moss beneath my feet pulsed faintly again, alive and springy. It felt like walking on a living yoga mat. I pretended this was fine. Acceptance was a problem for future me.
Rowan lifted a hand slightly. He did not look back, but something in the air listened to him.
Cewyn tilted her head. “He senses a shift.”
“A shift in what?” I asked.
“The Weave,” she answered. “It responds to energy changes.”
“That sounds safe,” I murmured. “Very stable. Very normal.”
We walked deeper into the trees. Rowan’s pace was so measured it felt like the forest took cues from him. Meanwhile I stepped on a branch that snapped loudly. Every bird in a ten‑meter radius probably woke up thinking the apocalypse had
arrived.
I froze. “That wasn’t me.”
“It was absolutely you,” Cewyn responded.
Rowan didn’t turn around, but I could feel his soul sigh.
The path ahead lit with soft bioluminescent threads. Rowan walked over them gracefully. Cewyn stepped like a dancer. I stepped on one too hard and it flared gold like I’d activated a magical alarm system. I pretended not to notice, because acknowledging it felt like inviting responsibility, and I was emotionally unavailable for that.
“The Weave is sensitive,” Cewyn said.
“I am doing my best,” I whispered to the trees, because apparently that is who I am now.
We approached a fallen tree draped in silver moss. Rowan paused, placing a hand on the bark. The tree hummed warmly. The hum rippled through me, causing a full‑body shiver.
“Oh my god, what was that?!” I wispered.
“You felt it,” Cewyn said.
“Yes, it felt like a very gentle magical heart attack.”
“That was the Weave recognising resonance.”
“Cool. Amazing. Perfect. That explains nothing.”
Rowan finally spoke without turning around. “Stay close.”
The comment should not have steadied me as much as it did. My chest did a small, panicked shimmy anyway. Not attraction. Just my nervous system trying to latch onto anything that resembled a safety blanket.
Cewyn gave me a long, thoughtful look. “You listen to him easily.”
“Euh, I am in a magical forest that feels like a sentient houseplant,” I whispered. “I will listen to anyone who sounds like they have a survival strategy.”
“That is wise,” she said, suspiciously amused.
The trees opened onto a ridge lined with soft floating lights. They hovered in slow pairs, marking a safe route. Rowan stepped into the glow and finally looked at me.
“You are holding it together,” he said.
“My standards for functioning are very flexible right now.”
His expression barely changed, but the silence around him softened. We continued along the ridge. Lanterns hung between the branches, glowing warm amber. The village lights flickered in the distance. Birds shifted in their nests. My heart nearly broke into an interpretive dance.
“This place is beautiful,” I breathed.
“Yes,” Cewyn agreed. “She is always beautiful at the edges.”
“The edges,” I repeated. “Just to clarify, edges like… scenic edges? Or edges like dangerous liminal boundaries where reality breaks?”
“Yes,” she said.
Great.
The forest pulsed again, warm as breath. Rowan turned his head slightly, eyes resting on me in that quiet, assessing way that made me feel like I was both safe and being gently scanned by someone’s internal security system.
“The forest is adjusting to you,” Cewyn said.
“I would like it to stop.”
“It cannot help noticing you.”
I made a distressed noise that was probably not meant for human ears. As we descended from the ridge, I stepped on a root that absolutely was not there a second ago. I flailed, caught myself on a tree that pulsed warmly under my hands, and whispered, “Please forgive me, bark‑spirit, or whatever you are.”
The tree pulsed again as if amused.
Cewyn murmured, “It likes you.”
“I literally fell on it.”
“Yes.”
“Is that flirting in this world?”
“Perhaps.”
I decided to pretend I didn’t hear that.
We reached the edge of the village. Lanterns glowed soft gold between branches. Rowan finally slowed enough for me to walk beside him. I tried to look calm and capable, but my entire body felt like someone had given me twelve espressos and dropped me into a National Geographic special.
“This path leads directly into Rhyllin,” Rowan said. “You will be safe.”
“Right,” I said and mumbled under my breath, “Because nothing terrible ever happens when mysterious men in magical forests tell you that.”
He blinked once. Slowly. The air around him did that thing again where it steadied like he’d negotiated a peace treaty with the atmosphere.
Cewyn smiled softly. “You will adjust.”
“I would prefer to adjust while sitting down,” I said. “Preferably with a warm beverage. And possibly a paper bag for hyperventilating responsibly.”
“You will have a warm drink,” Rowan said.
“Okay. Good. Great. Lead the way, forest dad.”
Cewyn made a strangled sound. Rowan paused like he had just been hit with a phrase he did not know how to categorize.
“I am not—” he began.
“Sorry,” I said quickly. “Panic term. It slipped out.”
He stared at me for a moment too long. Then, finally, he exhaled.
“Walk.”
I walked. Mostly because my legs were functioning on autopilot and also because I feared he might try to carry me if I refused, and my dignity could not take that. The forest exhaled behind us, as if marking the moment. And I tried very hard not to look like a girl who had absolutely no idea what she was doing.