Half Blood, Half Moon

Chapter 4

Seraphina

I turned back to the sound before I could second guess it.

My body had already decided for me. Shoulders squared, feet planted, breath slower than I actually felt. It was strange how quickly everything sharpened when you realized you were not alone.

“Come out,” I said again, louder this time.

Nothing.

The forest stayed still in that almost unnatural way, like it was watching and waiting to see what I would do next. It irritated me more than it scared me.

“Right,” I muttered under my breath. “Stay quiet. That’s not suspicious at all.”

Another shift. Slight. Controlled.

Definitely not the wind.

My pulse picked up, but I refused to step back. Whoever it was, they were being careful. Too careful. And that meant one thing. They knew what they were doing.

Which also meant running blindly would be stupid.

I tilted my head slightly, listening harder this time. Trying to separate real sound from the noise my brain was already starting to create.

Left.

A few steps behind the thicker line of trees.

Close enough to watch me. Not close enough to be seen easily.

“Seriously?” I said, letting some of the irritation slip into my voice. “If you’re going to follow me, at least don’t make it boring.”

Silence.

Then, finally—

A figure stepped out.

Not rushed. Not hesitant. Just… deliberate.

I didn’t recognize him.

And that alone was enough to make something in my chest tighten.

Because I should have.

People didn’t just wander into this part of the forest without a reason. Not strangers. Not like this.

He stopped a few feet away, not closing the distance, but not backing off either.

Good.

At least he understood space.

We stood there for a second, just looking at each other.

Sizing up.

I didn’t like how calm he looked.

“Lost?” he asked.

My brows pulled together immediately.

That was what he went with?

“Are you?” I shot back.

His expression didn’t change much, but there was something in his eyes. Not amusement exactly. More like he was already deciding how this conversation was going to go.

I hated that.

“I asked first.”

“And I didn’t answer,” I said.

A beat of silence passed.

Then, “Figures.”

I almost rolled my eyes.

“Do you always talk like that, or am I getting a special performance?”

He crossed his arms slightly, weight shifting in a way that made him look relaxed without actually being relaxed.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Then don’t.”

Another pause.

This one longer.

I was aware of everything all at once. The distance between us. The way he was standing. The way I was standing. The fact that neither of us had moved closer.

Good.

That needed to stay that way.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said.

There it was.

Again.

I let out a short breath, more annoyed than anything now. “Wow. That’s twice in one night. Is there some kind of rulebook I missed?”

His gaze flickered slightly, like he was reassessing me.

“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe you just don’t pay attention.”

My jaw tightened.

“Or maybe I don’t take orders from strangers.”

Something in his expression shifted again. Subtle. Almost gone before I could place it.

“Good,” he said. “Then don’t.”

That caught me off guard.

I blinked once, studying him a little more carefully now.

Most people would push. Try to assert something. Especially out here.

He didn’t.

Which made it worse.

“Then why are you here?” I asked.

He didn’t answer immediately.

Of course not.

“Same reason you are,” he said eventually.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does to me.”

I stared at him for a second, trying to decide if he was being serious or just deliberately vague to be annoying.

Could be both.

“Right,” I said flatly. “Super helpful.”

He shrugged slightly, like it didn’t matter whether I understood or not.

It shouldn’t have bothered me.

It did.

“You’ve been following me,” I said.

Not a question this time.

His gaze held mine. Steady. Unapologetic.

“Yes.”

At least he wasn’t going to pretend.

“Why?”

Another pause.

Long enough to be deliberate.

“You were moving like you didn’t know where you were going.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh.

“That’s your excuse?”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“It’s a bad one.”

“Still true.”

I looked away for a second, pressing my tongue against the inside of my cheek.

He wasn’t wrong.

I hated that he wasn’t wrong.

“So what?” I said, looking back at him. “You follow everyone who makes a wrong turn, or am I just lucky?”

His expression didn’t change, but there was something in his posture now. Slightly more alert. Like the conversation had shifted into something else entirely.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“You.”

That made me pause.

Not because it was flattering. It wasn’t.

Because it didn’t make sense.

“You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t need to.”

That again.

I stared at him, something about that answer digging under my skin in a way I couldn’t explain.

It wasn’t just arrogance.

It felt like he believed it.

And that was… unsettling.

“Right,” I said slowly. “You’ve got a lot of confidence for someone who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Or maybe I know enough.”

“About me?” I challenged.

“No,” he said simply. “About this place.”

That landed differently.

I glanced around briefly, taking in the trees, the uneven ground, the direction I had taken.

Then back at him.

“Then say it,” I said. “What am I missing?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Of course.

Then, “You’re off your path.”

I stiffened slightly before I could stop myself.

He noticed.

I could tell.

“That obvious?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.

“Yes.”

Great.

I let out a breath, running a hand through my hair again.

“Fine,” I said. “Then what? You going to point me in the right direction, or just stand there stating the obvious?”

He studied me for a second longer.

Like he was deciding something.

Then he stepped to the side slightly, nodding toward a direction behind me.

“That way,” he said.

Simple.

Direct.

No extra commentary.

I hesitated.

Not because I didn’t believe him. Because I did not like the idea of taking directions from him.

But I also didn’t feel like wandering in circles all night.

“Thanks,” I said, the word coming out more reluctant than I intended.

He didn’t react to it.

Of course he didn’t.

I turned, taking a few steps in the direction he pointed.

Then stopped.

I don’t know why I stopped.

I just did.

And for some reason, I turned back.

He was still there.

Watching.

Not moving.

“Are you coming or not?” I asked before I could think better of it.

The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them.

Why did I say that?

I didn’t need him to come with me.

I didn’t want him to.

Right?

His brows lifted slightly, like he was just as surprised by the question as I was.

“No,” he said.

Too quick.

Good.

That was good.

“Great,” I replied, a little too fast.

We both knew that wasn’t entirely true.

I turned again, this time forcing myself to keep walking.

Don’t stop.

Don’t look back.

Don’t think about it.

Just go.

The forest stretched ahead, quieter now, but not in the same way as before.

Now it felt… watched.

Or maybe I just knew what it felt like to be watched.

That thought sat uncomfortably in my chest.

I walked faster.

Not running. Just enough to put distance between me and him.

Or at least, the idea of him.

Because even when I couldn’t hear him anymore, couldn’t see him, couldn’t sense anything behind me…

It still felt like he was there.

Not close.

Just… there.

And that didn’t make any sense.

“Get over it,” I muttered under my breath.

He was just a stranger.

An annoying, arrogant stranger who thought he knew everything.

That was all.

And yet, my mind kept replaying it.

The way he answered without hesitation.

The way he didn’t push when I pushed back.

The way he said things like they were facts, not opinions.

It was frustrating.

Unsettling.

And somehow… stuck.

I slowed slightly as the trees began to thin.

This part I recognized.

Finally.

Relief came first.

Then something else right after it.

I stopped again.

Looked back.

Nothing.

Of course.

I shook my head, almost laughing at myself.

“This is ridiculous.”

And it was.

Completely.

So why did it feel like something had just started?

I turned forward again, stepping out of the thicker part of the forest.

I should have felt done.

Like the night was over.

Like whatever that was, it stayed back there.

But it didn’t feel like that.

It felt like something unfinished.

Like a conversation that didn’t end properly.

Like a question I didn’t know I was supposed to ask.

And that annoyed me more than anything else.

Because I didn’t like things that lingered.

I didn’t like things I couldn’t explain.

And I definitely didn’t like the idea that some random stranger in the forest was now stuck in my head for no good reason.

“Not happening,” I said under my breath.

I meant it.

I really did.

But even as I walked away, even as the forest gave way to more familiar ground, even as the distance grew…

It didn’t feel over.

Not even close.