I woke with the uneasy certainty that I was no longer alone.
The forest was quiet — too quiet. The river murmured softly nearby, its steady sound almost lulling, but beneath it all lay something wrong. A pressure. Like the air itself had drawn tight.
I sat up slowly, every sense alert.
The watcher was gone.
Panic flared hot and fast. I scanned the trees, my pulse hammering, but there was no sign of her — no cloak, no shadow lingering just beyond sight. Only the ancient oak and the tangled roots beneath which I’d slept.
“You said you’d be here,” I whispered.
The warmth in my chest stirred, faint but steady. Not alarmed.
I am, it seemed to say — not in words, but certainty.
I exhaled shakily and forced myself to stand. Morning light filtered weakly through the canopy, painting the fo
