Chapter 2 #3
The more I learned about this forest, the stranger it seemed that the bakery’s magic had chosen to settle here.
Even after all these years, I had never fully understood its whims guiding its movements from place to place.
The only pattern I’d ever managed to notice was that somehow the bakery always seemed to lead me towards something I needed, often long before I realized it myself…
such as the time the bakery settled in a corner of the kingdom that had just the herb I needed for a fever, and shortly after the move, Grandmother had fallen ill and needed it.
In all likelihood, this mysterious forest contained something I needed—whether a rare ingredient, a hidden recipe, or…my gaze drifted back towards the stranger beside me.
For a fleeting moment, I studied his form as though seeing him anew, as if observation alone might reveal whether our meeting had been intentional—whether by some ulterior motive of his own or by the strange magic guiding the bakery from place to place each month—or if it had simply been a coincidence.
I blinked at the odd direction of my thoughts; suspicion did not come naturally to me anymore.
I dismissed the notion almost immediately.
The bakery could hardly have a reason to lead me towards this random stranger; any friendship forged between us would disappear alongside the forest itself once the next full moon rose.
Our relationship would remain purely practical.
“Do you believe the remoteness will hinder potential customers,” I asked, “or might villagers still venture into the forest with the proper…persuasion?” Personally, I could think of few incentives stronger than pastries capable of fulfilling heartfelt wishes.
His hesitant silence testified clearly enough of his doubts, though he seemed too polite to discourage me outright. He avoided looking directly at me, as though uncomfortable delivering unfortunate news directly.
“We’re pretty deep in the woods,” he admitted carefully. “You could perhaps have chosen a better location for a bakery.” Then, after a slight pause, he added, “Though I suppose it could become a welcome haven for those unfortunate enough to find themselves lost.”
The remark was delivered with such earnest seriousness that I almost missed the faint upward twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Was he teasing me? If so, the attempt was entirely wasted.
Humor had been sacrificed years ago in the making of our moonberry mirth pastries—an enchanted confection famous for easing sorrow and coaxing laughter even from the most dour patrons.
He cast me a cautious sideways glance, seemingly waiting for some sort of reaction. When none came, pink tinged the tips of his ears before he hastily looked away again. Curious.
I studied his flustered profile before my gaze drifted downward, settling on the worn moleskin notebook tucked beneath his arm.
It looked remarkably similar to my own. Something stirred faintly in my chest, a feeling dangerously close to hope, an emotion I experienced so rarely it had not yet been entirely consumed by my magic.
“Are you a cartographer?”
I had never met another person who shared my fascination with geography and mapping.
If our meeting had been orchestrated and the bakery truly had led me here for a reason, perhaps this stranger was somehow connected to whatever I was meant to discover within these woods…
perhaps even an ingredient that could heal Grandmother.
He glanced down at the notebook, almost in surprise, as though he had forgotten he was carrying it at all.
Though his expression remained mostly composed, a faint flush spread across his cheeks as he hastily hid the book behind his back, as if the futile gesture could somehow prevent me from noticing it after I already had.
He shook his head. I nodded acceptingly, neither disappointed nor surprised. Those emotions had long ago become too faint for such reactions to linger strongly. “If not a cartographer, then perhaps an artist?”
He studied me with those large, dark eyes again, seeming to deliberate whether continuing the conversation was wise. Then he silently shook his head once more.
Curiosity flickered briefly through me before fading almost as quickly as it had come.
I shrugged, willing to let the matter rest. Yet despite my mind dismissing the mystery, some quieter part of me continued puzzling over it.
If not maps or sketches, then what filled the pages of his notebook?
Journals? Observations of the forest? Hunting records? Why did I care?
Before I could dwell further on the riddle, he stopped abruptly.
His head turned sharply from side to side, dark eyes darting across the surrounding trees with unmistakable alarm.
The calm steadiness he’d carried until now cracked, revealing something startlingly vulnerable beneath.
I instinctively stepped closer to him and followed his gaze, expecting danger.
Instead, I saw only trees. “What is it?” Though whatever had alerted him remained unapparent, I lowered my voice to a whisper.
“It’s…nothing.” Yet his rigid posture didn’t relax as he scanned the area again, more slowly this time. Upon closer examination, his gaze wasn’t afraid, but instead rather…uncertain.
“You don’t know where we are,” I realized aloud.
His entire posture stiffened. “Of course I do.” The answer came far too quickly, confirming my suspicion.
Logically the situation should have warranted panic, but I could only consider this turn of events a rather interesting development for my guide—a supposed hunter at that—to become turned around during his escort.
If only I’d packed some tracking tarts, but I only baked them whenever our bakery settled in particularly remote locations.
It would appear this month they would be frequently in stock.
Once more the tips of his ears reddened as he studied my expression, as though he sensed the direction of my thoughts. “I’m not lost.” His voice hitched defensively. “The forest shifted.”
My eyebrows rose. “The forest shifted?” If that were the case, that would be quite the fascinating landscape to map.
His expression remained perfectly serious despite the ridiculous explanation. “The paths are different today.”
I stared at him a moment longer before the truth finally settled into place. “You’ve been lost since yesterday, haven’t you?”
Silence stretched between us. Then, with the grave reluctance of someone confessing to a terrible crime, he nodded.
He looked genuinely embarrassed by the admission.
While it seemed unusual for a hunter not to have a sense of direction, I observed the fact with as much indifference as everything else.
“And you saw the bakery last night,” I concluded slowly, pieces clicking together.
His gaze lowered. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.
” The apology emerged quietly, weighted with sincere remorse.
“I saw the lantern light appear suddenly through the trees and thought someone might be living there. But when you noticed me through the window…I realized it likely appeared as though I was lurking.” He looked thoroughly mortified by the idea.
“You were lurking,” I pointed out.
The tips of his ears turned even redder. “Only briefly, and not intentionally.”
For some inexplicable reason, the sight almost made warmth stir within the hollow quietness of my chest. Not amusement exactly—perhaps merely fascination.
“It’s alright,” I told him. “You weren’t particularly frightening.”
He blinked at me, looking oddly relieved. Then his brow furrowed slightly. “You truly weren’t afraid?”
I shrugged. “I don’t frighten easily.” That was perhaps the simplest explanation.
He regarded me strangely after that, as though uncertain what sort of person answered so honestly. Then his gaze drifted toward my map journal still tucked beneath my arm.
“You mentioned tracking earlier,” he said hesitantly. “Do you think…you could find the bakery again?”
I glanced around the forest thoughtfully before crouching near a patch of disturbed moss.
Earlier uncertainty had given way now that I’d wandered longer through the woods.
The bakery’s chimney smoke had likely drifted eastward with the morning breeze, and beneath the sharper pine scent lingered the faint aroma of rosemary bread cooling on the windowsill.
Combined with the landmarks I’d already mapped, the direction slowly began assembling itself within my mind. “I think so.”I rose and brushed dirt from my skirt before turning confidently towards a narrow path between the trees.“This way.”
He nodded and followed beside me quietly through the forest. We hadn’t walked far before the warm scent of fresh bread finally drifted clearly through the trees and the amber stone walls of the bakery emerged from the greenery ahead.
I realized with faint surprise that for the first time in years, getting lost had proven unexpectedly worthwhile.