The forest was still.
Quiet in a way that made Peter's skin itch.
No birdsong. No insects. Just the distant whisper of wind threading through the treetops. The occasional creak of an old branch. And the soft crunch of Reia's boots on the dirt path beside him.
Peter glanced over at her.
She hadn't said much since they stopped for a short rest earlier. Still, there was a strange sort of rhythm forming between them, a pattern of looks and gestures, cautious glances and quiet understanding.
He wasn't sure what he expected. Maybe that she'd leave him behind. Or that she'd bombard him with questions. But instead, she just walked with him. Alert, confident, quiet.
He was the opposite. His legs ached. His shirt clung to him with sweat and dried blood. The heat pulsing beneath his skin hadn't faded completely since the last fight. It sat under his ribs like a smoldering coal, flaring up whenever he remembered the black flames that had shot from his hands.
What the hell was that?
He had no clue what he was becoming. But Reia hadn't looked at him with fear. Suspicion, yes. Wariness. But not fear. That helped, somehow.
They stopped for the night at the edge of a small clearing.
Reia quickly moved to gather wood for a fire while Peter collapsed at the base of a tree, stretching out his legs and exhaling hard.
"You're really used to this, huh..." he muttered.
Reia gave him a sidelong glance. "You get used to it when you don't have a choice."
Peter blinked. It still caught him off guard sometimes, being able to understand her so clearly now. Ever since that strange awakening, their words just worked. There was still a strange feeling to it, like hearing thoughts spoken aloud, but it worked.
"Lucky me," he said, half-smiling.
She motioned for him to stay put, then vanished between the trees with her sword drawn.
Peter stared at the stars overhead.
They weren't the same as Earth's. Some constellations seemed close, like half-remembered dreams, but others blinked in strange colors or patterns. It made his stomach churn.
He didn't know where he was. He didn't know what he was. All he had now was her.
Reia returned a short while later with a few skinned rabbit-like creatures. Her hands were stained with blood, but her face showed no emotion. She cleaned them quickly, skewered them with sharpened sticks, and set them over the fire once it was lit.
Peter watched her in silence, grateful. The smell of roasting meat made his stomach growl.
As they ate, he tried to ease the quiet.
"I never asked... is this your home forest?"
She looked up, then nodded. "My tribe lives deeper in the woods."
Peter blinked. "You live here?"
"I travel between the village and the nearest human settlement. I'm the only one from my tribe who deals with humans."
That made sense. She was clearly experienced, but her detachment had always struck him as practiced. Purposeful.
"You're the only one?"
Reia gave a short nod. "They don't trust humans. With good reason."
Peter thought of her hesitation, the way she watched the road, always ready for danger. "Do they treat your people badly?"
"Most do. Even if it's illegal. Some nobles keep people like me as slaves, despite the king's protection. My tribe has rights, but those rights are fragile."
Peter frowned. He didn't know what to say. It was hard to imagine such blatant cruelty still existing. But then again, this wasn't Earth.
He hesitated, then asked, "Are you someone important in your tribe?"
Reia glanced at him, then looked away. "My father leads the village. But that doesn't mean much outside of it. Out here, I'm just another target."
For a moment, they just sat in the firelight together, surrounded by silence and the crackling of wood.
After the meal, Peter leaned back against the tree and exhaled slowly.
"So... I guess we just camp out here again."
Reia stood and began sweeping away the remnants of their meal. Her sword rested nearby, always in reach. She moved with quiet grace and practiced efficiency. As she worked, Peter let his eyes fall closed.
Sleep pulled at him. And the forest faded.
___________________________________________________
He stood alone in a place without ground or sky.
Just shadows. Endless, shifting shadows. Stars drifted like embers in the air around him.
Then she appeared.
The girl from before.
Her figure emerged with slow, graceful steps through the gloom. Dark horns curved up from her head, and long black hair fell around her shoulders like liquid night. Her eyes were sharp and crimson, glowing faintly, and there was a cool confidence in the way she carried herself.
She was young, but there was nothing naive about her.
She folded her arms and regarded him, expression unreadable.
"You finally fell asleep. About time.," she said.
Peter blinked. "You again..."
She tilted her head, unimpressed. "Yes, me again. You didn't think I'd give up so easily, did you?"
He took a step forward. "What is this place? Why do I keep seeing you?"
"Because you're still halfway asleep. Halfway blind. You don't even know what you are yet."
Peter narrowed his eyes. "And you do?"
"Perhaps," she replied, a little too quickly. Then her voice softened. "You're going to have to wake up soon. When you do, others will notice. Some will fear you. Others will try to claim you."
He clenched his fists. "Then help me. Tell me what I need to know."
She stepped a little closer. "You're a ripple in a stagnant pool. A mistake, maybe. Or maybe not. That power of yours? It doesn't belong to this world, not really."
Peter opened his mouth to speak, but the void trembled beneath his feet.
The dream began to dissolve.
The last thing he heard was her voice, low and uncertain:
"...and don't trust the fox too easily. Even she doesn't know what you really are."
Peter jolted awake.
The fire had burned low. Reia sat nearby, sharpening her blade with a flat stone. Her eyes flicked over to him.
She said nothing.
But her gaze lingered.
And Peter wasn't sure if she had somehow heard the voice in his dream too.
Reia was carefully observing him, which made him feel somewhat uncomfortable. He had never imagined himself to be an object of curiosity, or some sort of exhibition to be ogled at.
Peter laughed and scratched his head. "Was I asleep long? I can't tell day or night in this place."
Reia shook her head. "You were only asleep a short time. It's still night."
"How can you tell?" he asked, shifting into a seated position against the tree.
"Instincts. I grew up here, in this forest. It's like my very own backyard."
Her ears twitched upright, sticking up cutely like some kind of animal. Peter almost chuckled, but stopped when Reia suddenly motioned for silence and rose nimbly from the rock she had been sitting on.
She gestured toward him, then moved quietly to a nearby tree, resting her back against it as she peered into the dense shadows. Peter couldn't see anything past the dim glow of the fire, but Reia's eyes seemed to shimmer in the dark. Maybe she could see things he could only imagine. She unsheathed her blade, which looked rather ordinary from what Peter could make out by the faint flicker of firelight.
He tried to move quietly and joined her side. The sword didn't look like anything special, no ornate etchings or flashy gems, just a plain metal blade. But Peter admired it. He had dabbled in sword fighting back in his youth, more out of curiosity than commitment. At best, he had been a casual hobbyist, but enough to swing a blade without hurting himself.
He was something of a history buff, too, and there was something thrilling about watching Reia stand ready with sword in hand, eyes fixed on the darkness, prepared to strike. The danger hadn't fully hit him yet. For someone from the modern world, this whole scene still felt surreal, like something out of a fantasy novel.
Peter crept closer, hoping to see what she was watching. She shot him a clear warning with her eyes, but didn't say anything. He obeyed, staying quiet, though the pitch black ahead made it impossible for him to spot anything. Still, he felt something approaching. He could hear faint sounds, crunching, tearing, bone snapping between powerful jaws.
Whatever it was, only Reia could see it clearly. The fine hairs on her arms were raised, tension radiating off her as she stared into the dark. Something landed softly in a clearing just beyond their campsite, a beast that resembled a sabretooth tiger, only larger. It was crouched over a fresh kill, feasting on something unrecognizable.
Reia glanced at Peter, her brow furrowed with worry. Was she trying to figure out how to fight the thing and protect him at the same time? Peter still hadn't noticed the creature, struggling to make out anything in the dark.
Then it lifted its head and sniffed the air. A low growl rumbled through the trees, and its eyes locked onto them.
Peter's stomach dropped.
Oh shit. Can it smell us?
A deeper fear seized him, one that hadn't hit him even during their earlier fights.
How the hell are we going to kill that thing?
He took a step back, ready to run. Beside him, Reia drew a dagger and flung it forward without hesitation. The beast let out a roar of pain and charged.
Why the hell did you do that, Reia?! Now it's pissed!
Reia shoved Peter aside and yelled something he couldn't understand. Then she began chanting rapidly. He didn't need a translation. He got the message. They ran.
Peter bolted after her, legs pounding against the forest floor, the beast crashing through the trees behind them. Reia's spell finished, blades of ice sliced through the air behind them, slowing the beast down for only a moment. It kept coming.
Branches snapped behind them like gunshots. The beast wasn't just running. It was charging, tearing through roots and brambles as if the forest itself couldn't slow it. Peter ducked under a low-hanging limb, nearly tripping as he scrambled after Reia. The sound of its breath, heavy and rasping, grew louder with every heartbeat. He could feel the thudding of its paws in the earth now, closer, too close.
Peter was already running on fumes, but the fear of death pushed him harder than he thought possible. Reia chanted again, this time sliding her hand across her blade. It shimmered faintly. She stopped.
Is she trying to buy time for me to run? If she dies here, I'm screwed anyway. What am I supposed to do?
Peter froze.
Reia shouted at him furiously to keep running, but he stood there, fists clenched. Without her, he was as good as dead. He didn't know where he was or how to survive alone in this monster-infested world. Reia clicked her tongue in frustration and faced the beast head-on, her stance unshakable.
Peter stared, awed. Her back was straight, sword ready, hair swaying slightly in the night wind. She looked like a hero from a story. He finally understood the danger of making a fire out here. It had probably drawn the beast in. But she had done it for him, knowing the darkness unsettled him. And still, part of him was glad for it. He couldn't imagine sitting in total darkness, waiting to be killed without even seeing it coming.
The beast circled Reia, growling low. Its fangs were enormous, like ivory spears. Reia didn't flinch, but she knew those things could tear through her like paper.
It lowered its body, shoulders shifting, claws digging trenches into the earth. Peter could see it clearly now, firelight catching on its matted fur and gleaming eyes. Its tail lashed behind it like a whip, muscles rippling beneath its skin as it prepared to strike. Then it leapt, a blur of death crashing through the trees.
What do I do? Come on, think!