"What the fuck was that?" I think to myself while lying on the floor with my eyes still closed. My head is throbbing, almost like something tried to crush my skull from the inside. I could even swear I caught on fire—if it weren't for the water seeping through the thick layers of clothes I put on earlier.

  I crack one eye open just enough to see a blurry vision of green.

  Green. Everywhere.

  Moss-covered trees loom above me, their crowns knotted together, swaying slightly in the summer breeze. "Maybe I fainted and sleepwalked to one of the forests surrounding the town?" I question aloud, scrambling to my feet.

  As I regain my footing, I focus on my surroundings and notice how enormous the trees are. The trunks must be at least five meters thick and twenty times taller than those in a normal forest. Normal. Nothing about this is normal.

  Light filters through the swaying branches, but barely enough for me to see past a few trees. I can't even tell where the sun is, making it impossible to guess the time. Not that it matters—knowing my luck, it's probably sunset while I blissfully think it's eight in the morning.

  Should I stay here? Maybe someone is looking for me, and it'll be harder if I go the wrong way. I sit on the nearest moss-covered boulder, repeating, "Somebody will come," embedding the words deep into my mind.

  Wait! My parents are still touring Europe, so they won't even know I'm home. Well, Mrs. Moyer is supposed to check up on me—but that could take days. I'm totally fucked. Like Armageddon is happening kind of fucked.

  I survey the surroundings again.

  It's peaceful here. If I could let myself relax, I'd enjoy the warm breeze caressing my face and the distant sound of trickling water. I sit there for what feels like hours, trying to spot anything that could help me find my way back home—which is absolutely nothing. Understandably, I'm not even sure what I'm looking for, given I have no idea where I am. I decide there's no wrong direction if I’m lost so I gather my backpack, grateful it made it through with me and as the green forest around me falls under a fiery blanket with the setting sun, I know I can't wait any longer. I open my backpack to eat a chocolate bar and drink some water, forcing myself to ration it in case I have to walk for more than a few hours.

  I really should've gone the other way.

  ——————

  "This is absolute bullshit," I mutter for the third time while climbing over a fallen tree, sap sticking to my hands. I've been walking for hours, and the scenery hasn't changed at all. All green, all moss, all the same... The only thing shifting are the shadows, creeping around me as the last rays of sunlight fade.

  I've never liked the dark. Since I was small, I always had to have a nightlight—anything to push the darkness aside. Now I'm standing in an unfamiliar forest, alone. I don't even have a flashlight or a phone to guide me through the night. My arms fall to my sides as despair washes over me. I haven't watched enough wilderness movies to know what to do in times like this.

  I crouch down, hugging my knees, pulling myself into a tight ball as my soaked clothes offer a little shelter against the impending cold. A quiet sob escapes my throat; I didn't expect to be alone this long. Has anyone even noticed I'm missing? The school should! Is it still Sunday? If it's Monday, then maybe—

  Thoughts spiral through my mind, creating a whirlpool of hopelessness. I hug my knees tighter, pushing down the lump forming in my throat when a sharp pain shoots through my stomach.

  I gasp at the sudden sensation, forcing myself to shove the emotions behind closed doors. I pull at the hem of my black sweater, cold air biting at my exposed skin. "My mom is gonna kill me," I say aloud, staring at the tattoo beside my belly button.

  I'm not sure if tattoo is the right word. The edges are uneven, almost like it's been burned into my skin—like someone pressed a hot iron against me. I touch the black mark, and gods, it burns! I wince but can't look away, studying the symbol, hoping it'll give me the answers I need. I don't recognize it—two teardrop-like shapes pointing upward from two dotted half-moons lying horizontally beneath.

  Moments pass before I lower my clothes back into place. There's no point stressing about it now if I don't live to see tomorrow. And with how things are going, that seems more probable.

  I walk for a few more minutes until I find a tree I can climb. A few broken branches at its base serve as a makeshift ladder, and the upper limbs look sturdy enough not to snap under my weight. I'm glad I wore my old leather boots; I can't imagine climbing this monster in my red stilettos. Strands of hair stick to my temples, and I feel a droplet of sweat run down my back as I grip the first branch. With a grunt, I get my foot on the second one, and I feel myself relax a little—until I look up and scowl.

  There are at least thirty more branches to go.

  By some miracle, I make it to the top. Moonlight filters faintly through the thick treetops. The branch I choose is wide enough to lie on without fear of falling. I untie the khaki jacket from around my waist, roll it into a ball, and use it as a pillow. It smells like home—very distantly.

  Hours later, I finally drift off from sheer exhaustion. It's a dreamless night.

  Early morning sunlight wakes me. The sky is a pale gray, pierced by pink bursts of light that scatter through the thinning clouds. Morning dew drips lazily from leaf to leaf in intricate dances before disappearing into the sea of green below.

  I finish the rest of my water, then sit up and stretch. My back aches and my muscles are sore, but I'm grateful I slept high up—I'm not ready to meet the forest's occupants just yet.

  And when I say I'm not ready, I mean it. Just as I'm about to sling my backpack over my aching shoulders, I hear a rustle in the bushes below. I inch closer to the edge, gripping a smaller branch for support.

  At first, I see nothing. Just greenery, the same as yesterday. I wait, eyes darting from bush to tree and back again. I know bears can climb, and I'm praying it isn't one of those. Maybe it's a wolf... or a rabbit? Why would there be bears or wolves here? I really should've paid more attention in school. Honestly, I never thought I'd need to worry about getting mauled.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  After a few tense minutes, I start to climb down. It takes a while, but eventually my boots hit the wet ground, soaking through the soles and the hem of my pants.

  "Green. Everything is so damn green," I half-yell, deciding right then and there that my new least favorite color is green.

  There's nothing to show me where to go. No broken branches, no bent grass. No signs of animals—or people. I'd take either at this point.

  As I bend down to roll up my pants, trying to keep them from soaking up more water, a loud crack echoes from the bushes in front of me—the same ones I was watching twenty minutes ago.

  I freeze.

  Still crouched, one hand dangles by my leg while the other grips my backpack strap, ready to bolt. Slowly, I rise to full height, eyes locked on the source of the sound. The bushes barely move, and normally I'd blame the wind—if it weren't for those two distinct noises.

  "Please be a rabbit," I whisper, not daring to blink.

  A few seconds pass before my blood runs cold.

  Something steps out.

  My entire body collapses to the ground, refusing to obey. Pain shoots up my leg as my knee slams into a hidden rock, but I barely notice. My mind only registers four words:

  You are gonna die.

  The creature hovering a few meters away is something straight from a nightmare—though even my darkest dreams never conjured anything like this.

  Where its head should be, there's a skull—scratched and broken, missing its jawbone, its mouth frozen in a silent scream. Dried blood stains the bone. From either side, horns jut out and curl downward, more like elephant tusks than anything else. The rest of its body is made of wood—twisted roots woven together to form a long, thin imitation of a torso. Its limbs dangle at odd angles, branches curled into claws, stained deep red. Whatever it touches probably doesn't stay intact for long.

  I tremble. Tears stream down my cheeks, soaking my jeans in small, dark patches. I try to scream, but nothing comes out. My body suppresses the instinct, hoping that if I stay still, maybe it won't see me.

  I glance up at its face—or where its face should be—but I can't tell if it's looking at me. It has no eyes. Just hollow sockets, making it impossible to predict what it'll do next.

  It takes a step forward, its branch-like feet slicing into the soil like a blade through butter.

  I clutch my backpack tighter, knuckles white from pressure. That's when I notice the strangest thing—my heart starts to slow. My breathing evens out. I feel clarity, cold and sharp, returning to my mind.

  They say people fall into two categories: flight or fight.

  And right now? I have to choose

  Flight?

  I scan the area, searching for the best escape route. Fallen trees block the entire right side of the little clearing where I kneel, making it impossible to use for my withdrawal.

  Another step.

  To the left, small bushes crowd the space, thick enough to slow me down—enough for the monster to catch up before I can make it to the other side. I don't dare turn my head to check the rest of the clearing, terrified that even the smallest movement will provoke the demon into launching itself at me.

  I'm trapped.

  Fight?

  I have only my old Swiss knife. What would I stab? The thing's not made of flesh and blood like I am.

  Another step.

  My backpack slips off my shoulder, landing on the damp ground with a soft thud. My arms fall helplessly into my lap.

  There's no choice. I can only wait as impending doom, wrapped in roots and death, inches closer to entrap me forever.

  I close my eyes. If death is coming, I don't have to look it in the eye.

  "Giving up so soon, tiny human?"

  My eyes snap open, and I stare at the creature in front of me, confused.

  "What?" I whisper, unsure why I'm even talking to this thing.

  A deep laugh booms in my head, silencing everything else.

  "You really think the Wreh can talk?”

  Wreh? That thing has a name?

  "Wreh is not a name, you stupid girl. Didn't your parents warn you not to wander around the Forest of Nevahrir?"

  "The Forest of Nevahrir?" I echo, startled.

  "Seriously? You don't even know where you are? What kind of complete ignorance does it take to be so unaware? Haven’t you learned nothing?”

  "Instead of your stupid remarks, you could help me out, you know?" I scream back in my mind, only to be met with silence.

  “You really don’t know anything?” Sounds after a few long seconds.

  The creature in front of me seems to grow bored of my internal conversation. Its talons dig into the ground as it crouches, ready to charge.

  "No! Okay? Please help me!" I plead.

  A low chuckle echoes through my mind.

  "I can't help you. Only your magic can stop him. Fire is their only weakness. If you aim right, he will die before he touches you."

  Magic? Is this voice insane? Or am I?

  I hit the side of my head—this has to be a dream. It's the only explanation for this nonsense.

  "Nonsense? If you want to think so, you'll be dead in twenty seconds. Think fast!"

  "I don't know how to use magic!" I cry as the creature tenses, ready to leap.

  "You have more than enough of it—trust me. Concentrate on what you want to create. Feel it! Feel what it needs! Let it pulse through your body and release it. It's as simple as that!"

  "You have got to be kidding me!" I scream—this time out loud. "Simple? What's simple about—"

  I don't finish the sentence. The Wreh launches itself at me.

  I try to run, but my feet slip in the wet mud, sending me crashing backward. I hit the ground, warmth spreading beneath me as a dark stain seeps through my trousers.

  It's already on me—two strides away. Its arm lifts high, ready to impale. I scramble backward, legs sliding out beneath me, desperate to escape. I search wildly for any sign of the voice, the mind-invader, anyone who might save me—but there's nothing.

  I am alone in this endless sea of green.

  No one is coming.

  I'm going to die in the unknown, another nameless face swallowed by the wild.

  I've read so many stories—heroes and heroines battling demons and gods, mages and monsters. I dreamed of joining their ranks, of being called a savior, of making a dent in the world. Those stories made me fall in love and cry in the dead of night, hugging pillows under my bedroom light.

  "Fight!" a voice screams inside me—but it's not my mysterious companion anymore.

  It's me.

  My voice is the one telling me not to give up.

  My voice is the only one urging me to survive.

  Just me.

  With the last of my strength, I push myself to my feet and bolt toward the narrowest opening I can find.

  Low-hanging branches whip across my face as I sprint through the forest. My boots sink into the soft earth, tearing through moss and roots. I risk a glance behind me.

  Its claw is just centimeters away.

  Running won't help—not when ten of my steps equal one of his.

  I dart toward the nearest tree and dive beside it, tumbling over the soaked ground. My shoulder slams into the dirt before I scramble upright, breath hitching as I look back.

  It worked—barely. The Wreh crashes into the tree, shoved back a few meters. A jagged rock catches one of its limbs, snapping the branch clean off just below the shoulder.

  I scoff. One of its arms is gone, revealing a hollow cavity within its wooden torso.

  "Just leave me alone!" I scream, hoping maybe—just maybe—it understands.

  It answers with an animalistic roar.

  It's not done. And now it's pissed.

  I run again, each step a fresh agony. My body shakes, muscles threatening to give out. Behind me, I hear the cracking of roots tearing through the earth.

  I don't look back.

  I can't.

  A faint sound—water, rushing through the forest—tickles my ears. Hope rises in my chest like a spark. I yank myself in that direction. If I can just reach the river... wood floats. If I dive deep enough, maybe it won't be able to follow.

  But hope is a dangerous muse.

  It can lead you to golden gates—or guide you straight into the abyss.

  In my case... it's the latter.

  A sharp pain slices through me like lightning. My vision dims as warmth spreads across my stomach. I look down.

  My feet aren't on the ground anymore.

  They dangle.

  A branch juts through the left side of my stomach, dark blood spilling out freely—carelessly—as if I don't need it.

  If only it were just a branch.

  But it moves.

  Because he's won.

  My breath hitches as I turn my head. Its skull looms inches from my face, triumphant. My blood seeps along the roots of its limb, which skewers me like a forgotten trophy.

  With a violent jerk, it lifts me to its right—then swings.

  I crash into a tree, bones screaming with fresh pain. Blood fills my mouth and I choke on the iron tang.

  I'm going to die.

  They say in your final moments, you see your life flash before your eyes—your happiest memories, shielding you from the fear of what's coming.

  They lied.

  All I feel is despair.

  I let my head fall to the ground. Cold earth meeting my fevered skin.

  "Red suits you," echoes softly in my mind.

  I don't open my eyes.

  Once again darkness claims my vision.

  Warmth stirs in my chest—faint, familiar, like somebody is calling out my name.The last thing I feel before slipping away is a sudden flash of light.

  And then—

  Fire.

  Not pain. Not death.

  Just fire.