The Woods know her name
1463 Words
Night fell on Winterhaven with an unnatural stillness. The town, blanketed in snow, seemed to hold its breath as the moon rose high, casting silver light that sharpened shadows into jagged shapes. Elara sat by her window, staring out at the forest’s edge, feeling a pull she could no longer ignore. Each branch, each whisper of the wind seemed alive, calling her. Pulling her.
Her pulse raced. The pull wasn’t just physical; it was in her chest, her mind, her bones. She had tried to resist it all day—walking through town, reading the library archives, convincing herself it was imagination—but nothing worked. It was too strong.
And tonight, she knew, she wouldn’t resist.
Wrapping herself in her thickest coat and scarf, Elara stepped outside. The snow crunched beneath her boots as if announcing her every movement to the sleeping town. The air was sharp and cold, making her lungs burn, but it heightened her senses. Every sound—the distant owl, the whispering pines, the crackle of ice beneath her feet—was magnified, feeding the anticipation curling inside her.
The forest waited.
Elara’s steps carried her to its edge. The trees rose like ancient sentinels, their branches forming a jagged archway that seemed to breathe. The moment she crossed the threshold, the temperature dropped sharply, and the moonlight filtered through the canopy, scattering silver shards across the snow. The forest was alive—silent, yet pulsing, as though it could sense her presence.
A rustle to her left made her jump. Her breath came in shallow bursts, and she turned quickly, expecting… what? She didn’t know. But there he was.
Rowan Hale.
He emerged from the shadows as if conjured by her own fear. His dark eyes gleamed in the silver light, unreadable, magnetic, consuming. His movements were fluid, deliberate, predatory. Every step toward her was both warning and invitation.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said softly, his voice slicing through the quiet like a blade. “It’s not safe. Not tonight.”
“And yet, I am,” she replied, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest. “Why are you following me?”
“I’m not following,” he said. “I’m… guiding.” His gaze softened for the briefest moment, then darkened. “The woods know your name, Elara. They’ve been waiting. They won’t let you turn back.”
A shiver ran down her spine. “The woods… they know me?”
“Yes,” he said. “The pull you feel—it’s the forest calling. The curse. The moon. Everything here is alive. And it recognizes you.”
Elara swallowed. “Why me? I just came back…”
“You didn’t come back by chance,” he said, stepping closer. “Nothing in Winterhaven happens by chance. You were drawn here. You’ve always been part of this, even before you knew it.”
She shivered again, not entirely from the cold. There was a weight in his words, an undeniable truth that made her chest ache. Her pulse raced, every nerve on fire. The pull between them, the pull from the forest—it all tangled together, an invisible web she couldn’t escape.
“I don’t understand any of this,” she whispered, stepping back instinctively. “I just… I don’t want to be caught in it.”
“You’re already caught,” he said, voice low, almost a growl. “The forest, the moon… me. We’ve been waiting for you. And now you’re here, and there’s no turning back.”
The wind picked up, whistling through the branches, carrying whispers she couldn’t fully understand. They sounded like voices, but not human—ancient, half-formed, insistent. They called her name over and over.
Elara… Elara…
Her head spun. The snow swirled around her, making the forest feel alive, menacing, intimate all at once. She wanted to run. Her instincts screamed it. But every fiber of her being was rooted to the spot, drawn to him, to the pull, to the danger she knew she shouldn’t want.
“Rowan,” she whispered, trembling. “I… I don’t know if I can—”
“Shh,” he interrupted, his hand reaching out, stopping just short of hers. “Don’t resist yet. Not until you understand. The woods… they’ll guide you. But they’ll also test you.”
She looked into his eyes, and saw the same pull mirrored there. Desire. Fear. Possession. A darkness that both terrified and enthralled her. “Test me?”
“Yes,” he said. “The forest doesn’t give itself freely. It doesn’t allow you to walk its paths without answering. And right now, it’s asking for your soul.”
Her stomach tightened. The wind picked up again, carrying voices that seemed to swirl in her ears, surrounding her. She stumbled back, almost losing her footing on the ice-crusted snow. Rowan was instantly at her side, steadying her. His hand brushed hers—not quite touching, but close enough to send sparks up her arm.
“You’re stronger than you think,” he said softly, almost a confession. “But you’ll need more than strength tonight.”
“What… what do you mean?”
“The moon,” he said, gesturing above. Its silver glow bathed the forest in ghostly light. “It’s awake tonight. It will test you. It will see what you’re capable of. And it will… see me too.”
She shivered violently. “See you?”
“Yes,” he said. “It sees everything. The pull, the obsession, the bond. And tonight… it wants to know if you’re ready.”
A sudden noise—a snap of a branch behind them—made both of them spin. The forest seemed to close in, shadows stretching unnaturally, twisting around them. Something moved in the darkness. Something not quite human.
“Stay close,” he said, his voice sharp now, warning. He reached for her hand again, this time brushing her fingers. The contact sent a jolt of heat through her entire body, and she had to force herself not to lean in.
“Rowan…” she whispered, her heart racing. “What is that?”
He didn’t answer immediately. His jaw tightened, his eyes scanning the darkness. Finally, he said, “It’s testing you. The forest sends guardians. Spirits. Shadows. They’ll push you, try to drive you away. But you mustn’t run.”
The shadows moved closer, curling between the trees, stretching toward them. The air grew colder, heavier, and the whispers grew louder. Elara’s breath came in short, visible bursts. The pull she had felt since arriving in Winterhaven intensified, almost unbearable.
“I can’t…” she whispered. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You can,” he said, his hand finally brushing hers fully. The warmth of his fingers against hers grounded her, but also intensified the tension. “I’ll guide you. But you must listen. The forest is alive. And it’s testing both of us.”
A shadow lunged, swift and silent. Rowan moved instantly, placing himself between her and the darkness. His eyes flared with something otherworldly—power, rage, obsession—and the shadow recoiled, retreating into the night as if burned.
Elara gasped, clutching his arm. Her heart hammered not just from fear, but from the undeniable pull she felt from him, from the forest, from the moon above. She was trapped in the night, in the snow, in the obsession between them.
“You see?” he said, voice low, intense. “It won’t let you go. The moon, the curse… neither of us are free. And yet, here you are. You belong to this now, just as much as I do.”
She swallowed hard, her chest tight. “And if I fail?”
“You won’t fail,” he said, dark and unwavering. “Because the forest won’t allow it. It’s testing you… testing us. And when the test is over, nothing will ever be the same.”
The snow swirled around them, the wind carrying whispers that sounded like voices from another time, another world. Elara… Elara… They called her, stretched her, pulled at her very soul. Her legs were weak, but she didn’t move away. She was rooted to the spot, drawn deeper, drawn into the forest, drawn into him.
Rowan stepped even closer, the distance between them almost vanished. His eyes held hers, dark, infinite, consuming. “Tonight,” he whispered, “we face the first trial. Together. And the pull… it will only grow stronger.”
Elara swallowed. The forest, the moon, the curse, and Rowan—all of it—was awake. All of it was alive. And there was no turning back.
- Writer
