Chapter 2 #2
It appeared I was lost. An unfortunate inconvenience, but not an alarming one.
Getting lost often accompanied the first days of mapping unfamiliar lands.
I merely crouched amongst the undergrowth, searching for signs of my trail.
A patch of flattened moss suggested I’d passed near a fallen cedar earlier, while disturbed fern fronds hinted at the direction I’d come from.
Too much of the terrain looked identical for the signs to be of much use, the forest floor layered thick with needles, roots, and drifting leaves, obscuring clear tracks.
As I straightened, the sensation of being watched I’d initially dismissed as the exhausted whims of my imagination returned.
This time, I recognized it instantly—the sensation from the previous night when I’d drawn back the curtains and glimpsed the dark silhouette lingering amongst the trees beyond the bakery windows.
I rose quickly to my feet, posture tensing instinctively. “Who’s there?”
At first there was no response, as though my unseen observer had no intention of revealing themselves simply because I’d asked. I held myself motionless, listening to the soft rustle of wind through the canopy overhead while trying to detect any sign of movement hidden amongst the trees.
Nothing. I was just about to search for the intruder myself when another faint rustle sounded nearby, followed by the unmistakable crunch of a boot against fallen branches. Then someone stepped out from behind the towering trees.
My gaze locked onto the dark eyes of a man.
He wore a heavy forest-green cloak draped over broad shoulders, sturdy leather bracers worn from use, and tall boots muddied from long travel through the woods.
A bow rested across his back beside a quiver of arrows fletched with dark feathers, while a satchel and hunting knife hung at his belt in a worn sheath. The attire of a hunter.
Shadow still partially obscured his features beneath the hood, but I caught glimpses of dark hair falling across his brow, the sharp angles softened by the shifting light filtering through the trees.
His expression remained unreadable, though there was something intent in the way he watched me—as though he’d been observing me far longer than I’d realized.
Though it had been too dark the previous night to detect the shadowy silhouette outside my window clearly, a flicker of recognition settled over me. I was suddenly certain he was the same man I’d glimpsed lurking amongst the trees. Had he been spying on me?
For a moment he remained perfectly still, eyes slightly widened beneath the shadow of his hood, before he dipped into an awkward bow. “Pardon me, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
The apology emerged so softly I scarcely heard it. He offered nothing more, as though apologizing was the full extent of timid conversation he felt capable of managing..
After another lingering glance in my direction, he turned as if to leave. I lurched forward. “Wait!”
He paused and looked back at me with cautious curiosity. Now it was my turn to fall silent. Beyond Grandmother, most of my conversation revolved around customers and pastries. What exactly was one supposed to say to someone they weren’t trying to sell something to?
The awkwardness stretched between us until he gestured towards the patch of undergrowth where I’d been kneeling moments earlier. “It wasn’t my intention to disturb you; I know concentration is of the utmost importance when tracking.”
“I’m new to the area and am exploring the woods.”
He tilted his head slightly, studying me with an attentiveness that reminded me oddly of a hunter following an unfamiliar trail. “I wondered,” he murmured. “I’ve never seen you before. It’s unusual to encounter anyone this deep in the forest.”
As I’d suspected. His confirmation did little to encourage optimism regarding bakery business. “Are there any nearby villages?” I asked.
Something guarded flickered across his expression, subtle but unmistakable. He seemed to study me just as cautiously as I studied him. “Not for about a kilometer,” he said after a pause, glancing around before gesturing vaguely towards the southeast.
Farther than I’d hoped, though not impossibly so. The distance would certainly discourage casual customers, especially if locals avoided venturing this deeply into the woods. Still, it wasn’t quite the isolated wilderness I had initially feared.
My slight frown must have alarmed him. Another uncomfortable silence settled between us, broken only when he awkwardly cleared his throat. “I noticed your tracking,” he said carefully. “Are you lost?”
I hesitated. It was probably unwise to inform a stranger I was lost in unfamiliar woods. I considered denying it before deciding there was little point; caution had faded from me alongside so many other emotions years ago. “I was exploring,” I admitted. “I appear to have gotten turned around.”
“Do you need help finding your way out?” he offered.
“It would be no trouble to accompany you.” Despite the polite offer, he looked almost as though he hoped I would refuse his honorable gesture.
Even so, he shifted slightly, already half-turning as though prepared to guide me despite his obvious reluctance.
“Wait,” I said quickly. “There’s no need; I’m not from the village.”
His brow furrowed. “You’re not?” To my surprise, his shoulders relaxed slightly in visible relief.
An odd reaction. “But there’s nowhere else nearby,” he said slowly.
His gaze lifted uncertainly towards the forest canopy, as though half-expecting to discover a treehouse nestled amongst the branches.
“I came from a bakery.”
He frowned. “There is no such place in these woods.”
“It hasn’t been here long.” Delving into the intricacies of my suddenly appearing bakery seemed a bit much for a first meeting.
At that, his gaze darted in the direction I was fairly certain I’d come from. The movement was subtle, but revealing enough. So he had seen it.
“Do you know the way back?” I asked. Only afterward did I realize I was asking something nearly impossible of him—to guide me towards a place he’d supposedly never seen before.
“I could likely find it.”
He stepped closer, carrying with him the earthy scent of cedar, pine, and cold morning air. As he moved beneath a shaft of sunlight filtering through the leafy canopy overhead, the shadows concealing his face finally receded, illuminating his features.
My breath caught faintly. It had been difficult to discern from a distance with the morning light behind him, but up close he was undeniably easy on the eyes.
Dark hair fell carelessly across his brow, softened slightly where sunlight brushed against it, while his features possessed the sort of rough symmetry that felt more shaped by wilderness than careful grooming.
His skin was touched by sun from long hours outdoors, and his dark eyes remained fixed on me with quiet intensity beneath thick lashes.
He appeared less like someone who belonged in a village and more like a figure conjured by the forest itself.
Sunlight filtered through the canopy overhead as he crouched where I’d been kneeling moments before.
The signs I’d struggled to decipher suddenly seemed to come alive beneath his attention.
His gaze swept over the disturbed moss and bent fern fronds before shifting towards the scattered impressions left in the earth.
“There,” he murmured, almost to himself.
He brushed aside a layer of pine needles, revealing the faint outline of my footprint pressed into damp soil beneath, while nearby a cluster of crushed clover marked where my skirt had brushed against the undergrowth.
What had appeared meaningless moments ago now formed a clear path beneath his careful observation.
A faint flicker of fascination stirred somewhere deep within the hollow quietness of my emotions as I watched him work. “You track people often?” I asked.
“Animals, mostly.” His fingers ghosted lightly over the forest floor before he rose smoothly to his feet. “But people leave trails too, usually noisier ones.”
I glanced down at my basket overflowing with herbs and frowned faintly. “I didn’t realize I was particularly noisy.”
The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, not quite a smile. “You stop every few minutes to sketch flowers.”
Before I could respond, he turned and began walking through the forest with quiet confidence, following signs invisible to me.
I hurried after him, holding my skirt up with one hand and lugging the basket with the other.
His certainty only deepened my unspoken suspicion that he was the same figure I’d glimpsed outside the bakery the previous night.
As we walked, I found myself studying him sidelong. This man might be the only local I encountered for days, perhaps longer. I needed to gather what information I could about the area.
“Why don’t the villagers venture into the forest?” I asked. “Is it dangerous?”
I had yet to detect any sign of wolves or other predators, though appearances could be deceiving. Regardless of what dangers might roam these woods, I was eager to learn more about my temporary home. There was only so much time before the bakery inevitably transported us elsewhere again.
He blinked, visibly caught off guard by the question. “They…have their reasons.” His expression became guarded, subtle but unmistakable, making me wonder if I had unknowingly brushed against a subject the villagers avoided discussing.
Ordinarily I possessed very little curiosity towards other people’s secrets. Yet uncharacteristically, I found myself wanting to dig deeper.