Through The Shifting Trees

Chapter 3 The Heart of Annora

In the light of day, Annora was something out of a dream.

Exhaustion weighed on me, but sleep never came. The whispers from the night before still clung to me—unintelligible, yet deeply unsettling. I didn't know if they had been real or some half-formed hallucination, but the unease lingered as I stepped outside.

And yet, the sight before me made me pause.

Homes seamlessly blended with nature, as if they had grown there rather than been built. Vines draped over carved wooden balconies, and bridges of twisting roots connected different levels of the village. Lanterns, filled with glowing blue-green light, hung from branches, swaying gently with the wind. Strange creatures skittered and fluttered between the buildings—some tiny and winged, others sleek and shadowy, slipping between the roots and disappearing as if they were never there.

Annora breathed. It thrived.

And it was beautiful.

I forced myself to shake off the feeling creeping into my chest.

This wasn't my home. It never could be. But I imagined how much I could learn. The scientist in me itched to understand this place, but the stranger in me still felt out of place.

Before I could get too lost in my thoughts, a voice called out to me.

"Oh, good! You're awake." Bunny called.

She was already ushering me forward before I could protest.

"Horax and Clover invited you to breakfast," she explained as she pulled me along. "It's kind of a big deal. They don't do that for just anyone, you know. Then we'll go to the bathhouse."

I wasn't sure if that was meant to comfort me or make me more nervous.

The village's main gathering space was nestled at the base of a massive tree, its roots twisting to form natural seating. Long wooden tables were already filled with people—villagers chatting, eating, some sparing me subtle glances as I approached. My nerves were a mess. I felt so out of place.

Clover spotted me first and waved. "Come, sit."

Hoarx, his imposing yet strangely serene presence beside her, nodded in quiet acknowledgment.

I hesitated but took a seat. Bunny plopped down beside me, already reaching for a plate of fruit.

I felt the weight of their gazes. Not hostile, not like Moss's, but wary. Curious.

And they were all different.

Some had pointed ears but non-elven features like Cedar. Others bore animal-like traits—a tail curling around a chair leg, clawed fingers absently drumming on the table. A man with curling ram's horns laughed at something across the room. A woman with moth-like wings stretched them lazily in the morning sun.

I watched a little boy with feline features hiss at his mother saying he wanted to go back to bed. She groaned rubbing her temples.

I focused on my food, trying to ignore the strange warmth that settled in my chest.

Clover smiled tenderly at me. This place was out of a storybook.

The morning light filtered through the room, dappling the ground in shifting patterns of gold and green. Despite my situation, I couldn't deny the village's beauty. Everything here felt alive—like the trees themselves breathed, the earth pulsed with energy, and the wind carried whispers meant for those who listened. You'd never find anything like this on Earth. And if you did, some greedy human would probably ruin it—through war, greed, or both.

"I wanted to speak with you dear." Clover said, disrupting my thoughts. She was eating a strange purple fruit.

My stomach tightened. I still wasn't sure how much I could trust Annora's leaders—especially after learning why I'd been brought here in the first place. But I had no other options.

Her white hair cascades in tight curls over her shoulders. She was smaller than I remembered—barely reaching my chest—but something about her presence made her seem larger, like the air itself bent around her. Did she shrink? She wore a long, soft green dress, her feet bare.

Clover stood taking her time, moving toward a pot of tea already steeping over a small enchanted flame. She poured three cups before settling across from me.

"You have questions," she said simply, her eyes meeting mine. "I can see them swirling in your head."

I swallowed. "I don't understand this place." I gestured vaguely, "I don't understand why it's hidden or why you're all living out here instead of in the cities. Are there even cities? Can I get back home?" I word vomit my questions.

Clover sipped her tea before setting the cup down gently. "Annora is not just a village, Eloise. It's a sanctuary. A place for those who have nowhere else to go."

I frowned. "But why does it have to be hidden?"

She exhaled softly, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. "Because the world we live in does not allow our kind to exist freely."

I blinked. "Your kind?"

Bunny leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Half-bloods. Shifters. Hybrids. Anyone who isn't 'pure' by the capital's standards." She drawled.

My stomach churned. I thought back to the people I'd seen since arriving—tall, horned figures, creatures with feathers woven into their hair, people whose eyes glowed faintly in the dark. But I saw mothers, children too they were more than just horns and shifty eyes. All of them carried an unspoken wariness, a tension I hadn't understood until now.

Clover nodded. "Drysten is ruled by those who believe only certain bloodlines deserve power. Anyone who doesn't fit within their rigid ideals is cast out, hunted, or worse. Our capital is power hungry and a danger to everyone here." Her voice was gentle, but there was an edge beneath it—an old pain that hadn't faded. "Annora exists to give these people a home. A chance at life where they are not seen as mistakes, but as individuals worthy of love and safety."

I swallowed hard. I wasn't unfamiliar with the idea of oppression—human history was riddled with it—but hearing it like this, in a world I barely understood, made it feel heavier.

"But how is it hidden? Bunny and Cedar mentioned magic" I asked in disbelief. Like it was impossible despite everything I’ve seen. "When I walked through the forest, I tried to run and went in circles.”

Clover smiled knowingly. "Because you were meant to."

I shivered at the way she said it.

Bunny nudged me playfully. "Annora is protected by more than just secrecy. We use illusions to keep it hidden."

"Illusions?" I repeated, my skepticism slipping out before I could stop it.

Clover chuckled softly. "You've already seen some of it, haven't you? The shifting paths? The way buildings seem to appear and disappear?"

I hesitated. I had noticed strange things—things that didn't make sense. Trails that seemed to loop back on themselves, structures that felt like they had moved overnight. I thought it was exhaustion.

Clover lifted a hand, palm up, and murmured something in a language I didn't recognize. The air shimmered, and for a moment, the walls of the cottage flickered, as if they weren't entirely solid. My breath caught in my throat.

"Our magic keeps Annora hidden," Clover explained. "The forest shifts to mislead outsiders. Illusions keep prying eyes away. And creatures who have sworn to protect this place ensure that those with ill intent never find their way here."

I felt a chill crawl down my spine. "What happens if someone does find it?"

Bunny's playful demeanor faded slightly, she glanced at Clover before responding. "Then we make sure they never leave."

I stiffened. A shiver ran through me. Did that mean death? Imprisonment? I thought of the children here, the families. If I had a child, wouldn't I do the same? Still, the thought unsettled me.

Clover reached across the table, resting a hand gently over mine. Her touch was light, but grounding. "Do not mistake our protection for cruelty, Eloise. We do not harm for the sake of it. But we will defend those who cannot defend themselves."

I looked at her, at the kindness in her eyes. I wanted to believe her. But I had been stolen from my world, dragged through this one, and now I was sitting in a hidden sanctuary that functioned as both a refuge and a last line of defense.

"And me?" I asked quietly. "What am I to Annora?"

Clover sighed, withdrawing her hand. "For now, you are a guest. A watched one. Some fear what your presence means. Others hope you will be something more."

I clenched my jaw, my fingers curling around the edge of my cup. Hope? I wasn't sure which was worse—their fear or their expectations. "Something more?"

"A friend," she said simply. "Perhaps even an ally."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I didn't know if I could be either of those things.

Clover studied me for a long moment before standing. She moved to a nearby shelf, fingers trailing over jars of dried herbs before selecting one filled with small purple flowers. She returned to the table and placed the jar in front of me.

"Lavender," she said. "It helps with sleep. And with fear."

I stared at the tiny blossoms. "I don't need it." Who hell was I kidding? I needed it. Back home my therapist compared my anxiety to Courage The Cowardly Dog. I'm a wound up spring.

Clover smiled, like a mother who recognizes a fib. "Perhaps not. But keep it anyway."

I didn't argue. I wasn't sure I had the energy to.

Bunny finished the last of her tea with a loud sip and stretched. "Well, that wasn't so scary, was it?" she teased.

I gave her a dry look, but she only grinned.

Clover turned toward me one last time, her expression gentle. "Annora is not your prison, Eloise. But it is your reality. And until we find a way forward, I hope you will come to see it for what it truly is—a home."

A home. I might never get back to mine. But if this place was genuine—if they didn't trade me in like an old piece of furniture—maybe I could be happy here.

I wasn't sure I even knew what that meant anymore. Acceptance perhaps. Silence followed. I listened to the chatters of other people.

Bunny broke the silence first, nudging me with her elbow. "You should come with me today."

I blinked. "Come where?"

"Herb gathering," she said cheerfully. "I need to restock the apothecary, and an extra pair of hands wouldn't hurt."

I hesitated.

I didn't trust them. Not yet. But Bunny was the closest thing I had to an ally here, and I needed something—anything—to do.

"...Okay," I said finally.

Bunny beamed. "But first let's get you cleaned up after you eat" I nodded and picked up the strange fruit not realizing how hungry I was until I was finished and my stomach hurt. I followed Bunny through the winding paths of Annora, my steps hesitant as I took in the village in the fading twilight. The place was unlike anything I had ever seen—In the heart of Annora, a procession of younglings trailed sleepily behind their instructor, their laughter mingling with groggy yawns in the crisp morning air. Some dragged their feet, rubbing their eyes with tiny clawed hands or delicate, furred knuckles, while others clung to the warmth of their companions, wings fluttering lazily.

Each child was a unique blend of the forest's magic: one had moth-like antennae that twitched with curiosity, another had bark-textured skin with tiny vines curling around their wrists. A pair of small twins, their skin dusted in soft feathers, waddled together, their beady eyes blinking slowly as if they might drift back to sleep at any moment.

Their teacher, a gentle being with antler-like branches sprouting from her head, led them forward with a soft hum, occasionally glancing back with a knowing smile. "Come now, little feet," she cooed, her voice as soothing as rustling leaves. "The sun has risen, and so must you."

A few of the more energetic children giggled and whispered to one another, their tails flicking in amusement, while the sleepier ones groaned in protest. One, a round-cheeked faun, let out an exaggerated sigh and draped himself dramatically over his friend, muttering, "Too early..."

The others simply giggled, their morning drowsiness slowly giving way to the wonder of another day in their enchanted village.

Bunny practically bounced as she walked, her golden hair swaying with every step. She was effortlessly cheerful, even when I was stiff and guarded.

"You're going to love this," she said over her shoulder, grinning. "The bathhouse is one of my favorite places."

I resisted the urge to scoff. A bathhouse was not high on my list of concerns—not when I was being held prisoner in a foreign world. But after everything that's happened the thought of hot water was more appealing than I wanted to admit. I felt icky to say the least.

We passed under a massive archway of twisted vines, and suddenly, the air smelled different—earthy, damp, with a faint floral sweetness. Bunny led me down a moss-covered path until we reached a structure nestled between two enormous trees. It wasn't a building in the traditional sense—more like a natural cavern formed by intertwining roots and branches, shaped into walls. The entrance was covered by heavy, woven curtains that shifted gently in the breeze.

Inside, warm light flickered from enchanted lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The space was steamy, the air thick with the scent of lavender and something citrusy. The floor was made of polished stone, smooth beneath my feet, and the sound of trickling water echoed softly through the chamber.

At the center of the bathhouse was a large pool of water, carved into the earth itself. Steam rose from its surface, curling in delicate tendrils. A few smaller pools surrounded it, separated by natural rock formations and thick curtains of hanging vines. Some areas were enclosed for privacy, while others were open.

Bunny beamed. "Well? What do you think?"

I swallowed, my fingers twitching at my sides. "It's... not what I expected."

Her smile widened. "Told you you'd love it."

A few other women were already here, some soaking in the pools, others scrubbing themselves with soft cloths and jars of fragrant soap. No one seemed to pay me much attention. It was strange—being here, surrounded by people who weren't quite human, yet going through the same simple ritual of bathing.

Bunny led me toward the edge of the main pool, where small wooden shelves held an array of neatly stacked towels and bottles filled with colorful liquids. She grabbed a jar and opened it, the scent of crushed herbs and honey filling the air.

"Here, use this." She handed it to me before grabbing a second jar for herself. "It's my favorite. Makes your skin feel like silk."

I hesitated, staring at the thick, amber-colored substance inside. I had never used anything that smelled so fresh, so real. Back home, my soap came from a plastic bottle. Manufactured. Artificial. This was something else entirely.

Bunny began stripping off her dress without a second thought, kicking it to the side before stepping toward the water. She was completely unbothered by the nudity, her curvy figure bathed in the warm glow of the lanterns. She was truly the embodiment of beauty. I tried not to blatantly stare but holy s**t. I suddenly felt self conscious. Not only was I covered in dirt but I was a lot softer than her. My hourglass frame lacked the muscle compared to her fit body. When she turned and saw me still frozen in place, she giggled.

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you're shy."

"I'm not—" I bit off my protest, heat creeping up my neck. Maybe I was shy, but that wasn't the point. I wasn't used to this level of openness.

Bunny smirked, tossing me a knowing look before slipping into the water with a sigh of pure bliss. "Suit yourself," she murmured, sinking in deeper.

I exhaled slowly. If I wanted to be clean, I'd have to get over it. With stiff fingers, I peeled off my filthy clothes, trying not to think too hard about the fact that I was about to bathe in a communal pool in a village full of creatures who probably hated me.

The moment I stepped in, all my reservations melted away. The water was hot, but not in a scalding way—it was perfect, enveloping me in warmth that seeped into my sore muscles. I let out a quiet sigh, the tension in my body loosening for the first time in days.

Bunny grinned. "See? Told you."

I didn't reply, too busy sinking into the water, letting it cradle me.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. I could hear the distant murmurs of the other bathers, the occasional splash of water. It was... peaceful. I had been tense since the moment I arrived, always looking over my shoulder, waiting for someone to decide I wasn't worth keeping alive. But here, in the bathhouse, with Bunny humming softly beside me, it was easy to pretend—just for a little while—that I was somewhere safe.

I reached for the jar of soap Bunny had given me and rubbed a small amount between my fingers. It foamed lightly, soft and smooth against my skin. As I worked it over my arms, I noticed how much dirt I had accumulated from travel. It felt good to wash it away, to scrub off the grime and—just maybe—a little bit of the fear that had clung to me since I was taken.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Bunny mused, watching me with her bright green eyes.

I tensed slightly. "I have nothing to say."

She tilted her head, studying me. "I don't believe that. You've got plenty to say. You just don't trust anyone enough to say it."

I met her gaze, unsure how to respond. Because she wasn't wrong.

Bunny didn't push. Instead, she scooped up some water in her hands and let it trickle down her arms, her expression turning thoughtful. "For what it's worth, I don't think you're bad," she said softly. "I think you're scared. And I think Cedar is being selfish, too stubborn and desperate to see it."

I stiffened at the mention of his name. "He doesn't care if I'm scared."

Bunny sighed, shaking her head. "Cedar's complicated. He does what he thinks is best, but that doesn't mean he's right."

I frowned. "You don't agree with him?"

"I don't agree with treating people like objects to be traded." She leaned back against the rocks, her voice quiet. "If it were up to me, I'd find another way."

I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the stone. "But it's not up to you, is it?"

Bunny looked at me then, her gaze steady. "No. But that doesn't mean I won't try. From the way Clover spoke she agrees. Horax wouldn't go against her."

A lump formed in my throat. For the first time since I arrived, I felt something other than fear.

Hope.

After we bathed we set out. The forest beyond Annora was thick with twisting roots and patches of bioluminescent fungi that pulsed softly under the shadows. Bunny moved through it with ease, humming to herself as she plucked leaves and flowers with careful precision.

I followed, watching.

"You really know what you're doing," I murmured.

Bunny grinned. "I should hope so. People would be in a lot more pain if I didn't."

I had always thought of magic as something in fairytales. My thoughts drifted to Clovers words from this morning. The capital wielded it as a weapon, using it to control, to punish, to oppress. But here, it was different.

Bunny crouched beside a small, quivering creature—a bird with a twisted wing. Her hands hovered over it, fingers brushing the air, and a faint golden glow seeped from her palms.

The bird stilled. Its wing twitched, then stretched, whole again.

With a soft chirp, it flitted into the trees.

I stared, baffled.

Bunny sat back, brushing dirt from her skirt. "You look like you've never seen magic before."

"Not like that, never" I admitted.

She tilted her head, studying me. "You don't have to be scared of it, you know."

I swallowed, unsure how to respond.

Bunny used it to heal. To help. I find myself going between fascination and weariness quickly. Like I'm trapped in an inner debate about whether this is a sanctuary or a well-decorated trap. But the people here seem real and the entirety of their little rebellion is for the greater good.

On our way back to the village, my gaze landed on the open training grounds.

Cedar stood in the center, sparring with Moss and several men.

His movements were sharp, efficient—dodging Moss's swift attacks while countering the men's attempts to break his defense. They moved in a blur, feet kicking up dust, the clash of weapons filling the air. He was a power house.

I stopped walking.

I wasn't sure why. Bunny stopped to watch with me her eyes stayed on a man with shaggy blonde hair. He looked human.

My eyes followed Cedar—how easily he commanded the fight, how precise his strikes were. The way he dodged at the last second, muscles flexing under his tunic as he twisted out of reach—

I realized I was staring hard for to long . And that Bunny was smirking at me.

I scowled and started walking again.

Bunny just giggled. "You can admit he's pretty."

I groaned. "I hate him."

"You can hate someone and still think they're nice to look at," she teased.

I refused to dignify that with a response and quickened my pace.

But my face was warm and she was right. He was ridiculously hot. Too bad he was a selfish prick.

Bunny's steps were light and playful as she caught up leading again, her golden hair swaying. I trailed behind her.

I didn't know if I belonged here.

I didn't know if I wanted to belong.

But for now, I followed.