Chapter 7 -

  Morning did not soften the forest.

  Mist clung low to the ground, beading on leaves and boots alike, and the air held the damp chill of something that had not fully let go of night. The cabin sat quiet behind them now, its door closed, its warmth already feeling farther away than it should have.

  They walked with their heads down.

  No one spoke at first. Packs were adjusted. Straps pulled tighter. The narrow path pressed them into single file, branches brushing shoulders as if testing whether they were real.

  Agatha had stood on the porch long enough to watch them go. She’d offered a few final words, gentle, steady things meant to carry, but even she had known better than to pretend they would last. The forest reclaimed its sounds the moment distance swallowed her voice.

  A few of the survivors slowed without realizing it, glancing back the way Agatha had gone. No one said anything, but the space she left behind felt wider than the road itself.

  Colin broke the silence.

  “I’m glad we ran into her,” he said quietly, glancing sideways at Coleen. “Not more of those robed guys. She was… nice.” He tried to smile. “I hope we meet more nice people.”

  It wasn’t a joke. Just a hope, fragile and unguarded.

  Coleen nodded once. She didn’t trust her voice yet.

  A few steps behind them, Paul muttered under his breath, words half-formed and brittle. “We’re not like them. This isn’t where I’m supposed to be.”

  Shelby glanced back and offered him a small, sympathetic smile. He didn’t see it.

  Rod walked ahead, short sword loose in his hand, eyes scanning the tree line. When he lifted a fist, the group slowed immediately. When he gestured forward again, they moved. No one questioned it.

  The forest felt closer now.

  Not hostile. Not yet. Just attentive.

  Coleen became aware of small things she hadn’t noticed before, the way footsteps sounded too loud on packed earth, the way conversation wanted to rise and had to be pressed back down. She felt eyes on her more than once, quick glances that slid away when she looked up.

  Expectation.

  She hadn’t asked for it. It had arrived anyway.

  Her fingers brushed the hilt of the dagger at her side, not in fear, but in reminder. She kept her pace steady, matching Rod’s rhythm without meaning to.

  Behind them, the cabin vanished from view.

  The path narrowed. The light shifted.

  And with it, something else faded, the sense that someone else was watching the edges for them, that someone older and steadier stood between them and whatever waited deeper in the woods.

  Coleen felt it then, clearly.

  Not panic. Not resolve.

  Just the quiet weight of knowing the road ahead no longer belonged to anyone else.

  They had only gone a short distance from the cabin when a voice called out behind them.

  “Hang on there for just a minute!”

  They turned to see Agatha hurrying down the path, her shawl pulled tight around her shoulders, a small woven basket tucked into the crook of her arm. She slowed as she reached them, breath steady despite the pace, and smiled as though this were the most natural thing in the world.

  “I just remembered,” she said lightly. “There are some berries and herbs I like to gather from a spot not far from where you’re headed. I thought to myself, why not ask those fine young folks for an escort?” She glanced between the twins, her expression open, patient. “Would you mind?”

  “Well of course we don’t mind,” Colin said at once. A few of the others nodded, some relieved to have a reason to stay together a bit longer.

  “We don’t mind at all,” Coleen added. “And we’re grateful for everything you’ve told us.”

  “Oh, that’s good,” Agatha said. “I can tell you more as we walk.”

  They set off again, but the path ahead quickly drew Coleen’s attention.

  The dirt was torn up in long, uneven gouges, deep enough that shadows pooled inside them. Not scattered. Not frantic. The marks ran forward in a single direction, as though something heavy had been dragged along the ground.

  Not claw marks.

  Not a beast trail.

  Coleen slowed, her eyes tracing the lines. As she did, a faint scent reached her nose, sharp and wrong. Burnt metal. It didn’t belong in a forest full of damp earth and leaves.

  Murmurs spread through the group.

  “Another monster?”

  “Is it following us?”

  Agatha didn’t slow. “Old hunting scars,” she said gently, without looking back. “Nothing recent.”

  Coleen watched the woman’s shoulders as she spoke. The calm was practiced. Too smooth.

  She wasn't telling the whole truth.

  Her gaze returned to the gouges, measuring their spacing, their depth.

  Whatever made those marks didn’t walk on four legs.

  The forest narrowed as they walked, the path thinning until branches pressed close on either side. It was quieter than before, not peaceful, but hollow. As though something had been taken, and the woods had not yet decided what to do with the absence.

  Someone muttered under their breath when another tripped over a stone. A few steps later, the muttering turned sharp, the sound of it carrying farther than it should have in the quiet.

  Colin tugged at the chainmail shirt again, shifting his shoulders as if trying to settle into it. The weight pulled in unfamiliar ways, each step reminding him it wasn’t meant for comfort. Coleen noticed anyway. Her own hand drifted more than once to the hilt of her dagger, fingers tightening as she silently reaffirmed a simple truth.

  I’m going to survive this.

  The path bent sharply, and stopped.

  A massive tree lay across the trail, its trunk split at the base, bark torn wide. Pale sap still glistened along the break, wet and fresh.

  Rod stepped forward, crouching near the trunk. He pressed a hand to the wood, then frowned.

  “This wasn’t rot,” he said quietly. “Didn’t fall on its own. Looks like it was pushed.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  “And this,” Agatha said as she knelt down to pick some plants, “this plant’s leaves are used in making some medicines. Can be useful.”

  A rustle sounded in the underbrush.

  The group froze.

  Kevin’s fingers clamped hard around Coleen’s hand. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she lifted her free hand slightly, signaling Rod to stay close.

  Something burst from the brush, fast and low -

  A boar.

  It bolted across the path in a blur of brown, vanishing deeper into the forest.

  A collective breath escaped the group, tension draining in shaky exhales. Someone let out a quiet, embarrassed laugh.

  Coleen didn’t.

  Her eyes flicked to Agatha.

  The old woman hadn’t relaxed. Her posture remained tight, gaze fixed on the direction the boar had fled.

  Coleen followed her line of sight, trying to see whatever Agatha was looking at.

  The boar hadn’t been charging them.

  It had been running away.

  Rod walked with his head high, shortsword held loosely at his side as his eyes swept the trees. He checked the path ahead, then glanced back again and again, making sure no one drifted too far from the group.

  Kevin and Shelby stayed close together, whispering to one another in low, relieved tones. It was easier, Shelby murmured, following someone who looked like he knew where he was going. Kevin nodded, gripping his staff a little tighter.

  Paul trailed at the back, muttering under his breath.

  “We should’ve turned back… should’ve found a different way…”

  Rod shot him a sharp look over his shoulder, not angry, just measuring, and slowed slightly to be sure Paul didn’t fall behind.

  Agatha spoke as they walked, her voice calm and steady, as though this path were one she had traveled many times before.

  “When you reach Airst,” she said, “you’ll want to go first to the Church of Mystear. The Ritual of Acknowledgement is important. It marks you as part of this world.” She glanced ahead, then continued. “After that, the Adventurers Association. That’s where work is found. Legitimate work.”

  She warned them about the cities - crowded, tense places where fear often wore a friendly face. Weapons, she advised, should stay sheathed unless absolutely necessary.

  “And be mindful of the other races,” she added quietly. “Many keep to their own kind these days. There are… old wounds. Hurt feelings that haven’t healed.” Her expression softened, shadowed by something like regret.

  After a time, Agatha slowed and allowed Coleen to fall into step beside her.

  Coleen hesitated, choosing her words carefully.

  “What made those tracks?”

  Agatha didn’t answer right away.

  “This land used to be quiet,” she said at last. “Safe. But things change when corruption drifts.”

  She spoke gently, keeping her explanation small.

  Not all beasts spread corruption.

  Some places were worse than others, like bad weather, she said. Heavy in one region, barely felt in another.

  She said nothing of where it came from.

  At a bend in the road, beneath the spreading branches of a great tree, Agatha stopped. She set her basket down and turned to face them, smiling with quiet warmth.

  “My path with you ends here,” she said. “Airst lies just ahead. Remember, go to the Church first. Then the Adventurers Association. Keep your heads down.” Her voice lowered. “And whatever you do, do not speak of summoning.”

  Her eyes lingered on Colin and Coleen, weighing them one last time. Then she pulled her shawl tight and turned down a smaller trail, disappearing into the trees.

  The group stood in silence for a moment.

  Agatha had been a steady light after Mikel’s death. Without her, the road felt colder, less certain.

  Still, there was no choice but forward.

  Coleen watched the trees close behind where Agatha had gone.

  The adults in this world aren’t in control, she realized.

  They’re afraid of something much bigger than us.

  The group moved forward towards civilization, following the pathway that led to the town of Airst.

  Then Paul’s eyes narrowed.

  “Could you not stomp like that?” he hissed at one of the survivors ahead of him. “You want everything in the forest to hear us?”

  The man spun around, exhausted and bleary-eyed. “I’m just walking. Not everyone can creep around like a ghost.”

  Voices rose, sharp, brittle. Too much fear. Too little sleep.

  A couple of people shrank back at the raised voices, eyes darting between them as if expecting something worse to follow. The road suddenly felt too narrow for everyone standing on it.

  Coleen stopped.

  “Enough.”

  The word wasn’t loud, but it cut cleanly through the argument. She turned, eyes steady, posture calm.

  “Save your breath,” she said evenly. “Fight the forest, not each other.”

  Silence followed.

  The argument didn’t end so much as dissolve. People looked away, adjusted straps, picked up their pace, not because they were convinced, but because they didn’t want to be the next voice to break the silence.

  Paul looked away first, jaw tight. The other survivor exhaled and nodded once, shoulders sagging as the tension drained out of him.

  They started moving again, quieter this time.

  Colin caught Coleen’s eye as he passed her. He didn’t say anything. Just gave her a small, faint smile.

  She didn’t return it.

  Her gaze stayed on the trees.

  Something hunted us last night, she thought.

  And it may be still hunting this morning.

  They walked out of the trees and into open ground.

  The forest fell away behind them, giving way to tall grass and the long, clear stretch of road leading to the walled town of Airst. Stone towers rose in the distance, banners floating faintly in the breeze.

  And still, nothing stirred.

  No birds. No insects. No distant calls from the fields.

  Coleen glanced back once at the treeline.

  The forest stood silent, as if watching them leave.