Shadow of the forest

The fire crackled softly, its orange glow pushing back the encroaching darkness. Zeke sat cross-legged, flipping a skewer of meat over the flames, the smell wafting through the air. Arina sat a few feet away, his notebook open in his lap, eyes scanning the familiar pages filled with scribbled notes and sketches.

"There has to be a way," Arina muttered, tapping the edge of his pencil on the notebook. "Something to kill the shadows for good… something we haven't tried yet."

Zeke sighed, not bothering to look up from the cooking meat. "Even if there's a way, it won't be easy. Nothing ever is."

The quiet settled around them again—broken only by the crackling fire and the distant sound of the wind weaving through the dying trees.

Suddenly, a faint noise echoed through the forest. A soft creak… like old wood shifting under weight. Both Arina and Zeke froze. The sound grew louder, accompanied by the faint, rhythmic thuds of hooves striking the ground.

Before Arina could react, Zeke lunged at him, grabbing his arm and pulling him behind a nearby tree. "Stay low. Be quiet," Zeke whispered sharply, his voice tight with tension.

They crouched together, peering through the branches.

Emerging through the thinning fog was a woman unlike anything Arina had ever seen. Her long green hair flowed down her back, cascading like vines. Her skin was pure white, smooth and almost luminous under the pale moonlight. But it was her stomach that drew the eye—a massive, rounded swell that seemed unnaturally large, rising like a mountain beneath her flowing gown.

She sat upright and unnervingly still on the back of a black horse, its eyes glowing faintly red as it carried her with slow, deliberate steps.

The woman paused when she reached the edge of their abandoned camp, her gaze lingering on the fire and the remnants of Zeke's skewer.

Arina's heart pounded in his chest as the woman smiled—a serene but unnerving expression. Her lips moved, and a stream of soft, melodic words in a language he didn't recognize floated through the air. Then, she began to sing.

Her voice was hauntingly beautiful, carrying through the forest like a lullaby. The horse moved forward slowly, its hooves making no sound now. And just as suddenly as she had appeared, the woman vanished into the shadows, leaving only the echoes of her song behind.

Zeke exhaled loudly, slumping back against the tree. "Thank the gods…"

"What was that?" Arina asked, breathless as he turned to face Zeke. "Who is she?"

Zeke glanced at him, his expression tired but serious. "She's called the Mother of the Forest."

"The Mother of the Forest?" Arina repeated, blinking. "That was… a magical creature?"

"Something like that," Zeke muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. "She's… complicated. Not really human, not really beast. She gets pregnant and gives birth every year, always alone. No father, no help. She dies after the birth, and her spirit takes form in the new body she births. That's how she lives—eternally."

Arina stared at him, wide-eyed. "That's…" He struggled to find the words. "Why? Why does she do that?"

"Why does any magical creature do anything?" Zeke replied with a shrug, clearly annoyed by the questions. "Her story's a sad one—probably just another spirit born out of pain. They say she was once a noble woman who was betrayed by her soldiers. They hung her severed head in this forest as a warning, and ever since, she's been here. Wandering."

Arina swallowed, his mind racing with questions. "And you think that's true?"

Zeke huffed, throwing a small twig into the fire. "It's just a legend, kid. You hear a lot of stories out here. Doesn't mean any of them are real."

But Arina wasn't convinced. He turned his gaze toward the path where the Mother of the Forest had disappeared. Something about her presence… her song… felt undeniably real.

"What did she say?" Arina asked suddenly.

Zeke froze, his eyes flicking toward Arina. For a moment, he didn't answer. Then, with a quiet sigh, he muttered, "She said… 'Bring me food for my baby, and I will help you.'"

Arina's blood ran cold. "Help us? With what?"

Zeke shook his head. "Who knows. Maybe she's just trying to lure us in. Her kind—creatures born from pain—they're not always trustworthy."

But Arina couldn't shake the feeling that her words mattered. He looked back at the forest, the fading echoes of her song still ringing in his ears.

Zeke didn't respond. The fire crackled on, casting long, dancing shadows around their camp as the night grew colder.