Shadow of the forest

The boy woke to warmth-a jarring contrast to the cold, damp forest floor he'd last felt. His eyes opened slowly, greeted by flickering firelight that danced across wooden walls. The room smelled of herbs, smoke, and something earthy yet sweet. He blinked, his mind sluggish, trying to recall how he'd gotten here.

Then, the pain hit.

His arm throbbed, the scars burning faintly beneath tightly wrapped bandages. He winced, shifting slightly, and the motion must have alerted someone nearby.

"You're awake," a voice said, calm and smooth, with an edge of something ancient, like the voice itself carried the weight of centuries.

The boy's gaze darted toward the source. Sitting cross-legged by the fire was a man, no-he wasn't a man. Not quite. His silver hair spilled over his shoulders, glinting like moonlight, His features were sharp, almost ethereal, as though carved by the forest itself.

The boy struggled to sit up, his body weak. "Where... where am I?" he croaked, his voice rasping like dry leaves.

"You're in my home," the silver-haired man said simply, turning back to the mortar and pestle he was grinding. His long, slender fingers moved with practiced precision, crushing herbs into a fine paste. "And I'd suggest staying still unless you'd like those scars to start bleeding again."

The boy glanced down at his arm, his fingers grazing the bandages. The glow beneath them was faint now, but it hadn't disappeared. "You... you did this?"

The man nodded, not looking up from his work. "You stumbled into the wrong part of the forest, boy. It doesn't take kindly to strangers. Consider yourself lucky I found you before something else did."

"Something... else?" The boy's stomach tightened at the thought.

The man set the mortar down and finally met his eyes, his expression unreadable. "The forest has its guardians. Some of them... don't welcome visitors."

Before the boy could respond, a low growl rumbled from somewhere nearby. His heart leapt, and he instinctively pressed back against the bed he was lying on. A massive shape emerged from the shadows-a lion, its golden mane shimmering in the firelight, its amber eyes fixed on him.

The beast padded closer, its movements graceful yet powerful, and the boy froze, every muscle in his body screaming to flee.

"Zeke," the man said, his tone sharp but not unkind. "Enough."

The lion stopped, sitting back on its haunches with a huff. It turned its head toward the silver-haired man, as if irritated by the command, before lying down near the fire.

The boy's heart was still racing. "That's... that's a lion," he stammered, as though saying it out loud would make it less real.

The man smirked faintly, the first trace of emotion he'd shown. "Very observant."

"Why do you have a lion?"

"Why not?"

The boy stared at him, dumbfounded, but the man didn't offer any further explanation. Instead, he stood, his long cloak trailing behind him as he approached. "I suppose you'll want some answers," he said, crouching beside the bed. "But first, a name. What do they call you?"

"I... I don't know," the boy admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't remember anything."

The man tilted his head, studying him with an intensity that made the boy squirm. "Hmm. Interesting."

"You don't believe me?"

"Oh, I believe you," the man said. "The forest wouldn't have marked you otherwise."

"Marked me?" The boy's eyes darted to his scars. "You mean these?"

The man nodded, brushing a strand of silver hair from his face. "Those aren't ordinary scars. They're a curse. And a powerful one at that."

The boy swallowed hard, his throat dry. "What... what kind of curse?"

The man stood, moving back toward the fire. "One that binds you to the forest," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "It won't let you leave. Not until you figure out why it brought you here."

The boy's head spun. "But I don't even know who I am! How am I supposed to-"

"Enough," the man interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. "Panicking won't help you. What you need is rest. And food."

As if on cue, the lion-Zeke-huffed again, as though agreeing.

The man turned back to him, his piercing blue eyes softening slightly. "My name is Kava," he said. "Some call me the Sage of the Forest. You're safe here... for now."

The boy hesitated, but the warmth of the fire and the strange comfort of Kava's voice lulled him into a cautious sense of security. As his eyes grew heavy, he thought he saw Zeke watching him, its golden eyes filled with something almost human.

The last thing he heard before sleep claimed him was Kava's voice, low and thoughtful.

"Whoever you are, boy... the forest has plans for you. And it won't let you go until they're complete."