This could be the start of my bog-witch era.
Being barefoot isn’t ideal bog witch attire, but at least the grass is soft. Undoubtedly, I will be in some pain once I’m in the forest. I should have thought to grab the fallen remains of my blanket rope. I could have tied some pieces to my feet.
Hindsight is the worst.
Still, I don’t spare a glance back at the castle. I think surreptitiously sneaking glances behind me would be a dead giveaway that I’m not supposed to be here.
No can do.
It’s killing me not to look. I would love to know I’m not being followed. Instead, I strain to hear every sound. The hyperawareness is making this walk feel much longer than it really is. My adrenaline hasn’t stopped pumping.
The forest looms closer, and that dangerous emotion sneaks back in. I think I’m going to make it. I haven’t heard a sound to hint that my disappearance has been discovered.
But the closer I get to the forest, the more uneasy I start to feel. Not because I think I will get caught and dragged back to the castle, but because there’s something ‘off’ about it. The forest is dark. Even though the sun is up, it’s as if the canopy blocks out all the light, making it almost impossible to see more than a few feet inside. A thick layer of fog sticks to the forest floor, amping up the eerie vibes. There’s an unnatural stillness about the place that sends goosebumps down my arms.
To be fair, I have some forest-related trauma, but even if I didn’t, I think this place would still give me the creeps.
If there was ever a forest that probably doubles as a sanctuary for killer clowns, this is it.
The thought gives me pause, as I reach the forest’s edge.
Am I about to get myself killed?
Something about this place just feelswrong.
“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” a soft, melodic voice calls.
I scream.
I also jump about a foot in the air before spinning around. Only, there’s no one behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I try to figure out who on earth just spoke to me.
The incident with the forsaken in the parking garage springs to mind and reminds me to look up.
My jaw drops.
I must have hit my head harder than I thought.
It’s a fairy.
With wings.
Only she’s human-sized and quietly hovering over me. Her pink wings move so quickly that I can barely make them out. Their blur reminds me of a hummingbird.
Bright pink eyes watch me warily, and her heart-shaped face is framed by strands of matching pink hair.
I can only imagine the look of utter disbelief I must be wearing because she quickly gives me a small, apologetic smile.
“Oh, sorry about that,” she chirps and lands in front of me. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” Her eyes dart to the forest, and she wrings her hands together beforelooking back at me. “I’m Rosenthal. But everyone just calls me Rosie.”
She said everyone. That implies there’s more people here. That’s promising.
I give her a tentative smile and hope this isn’t some kind of trap.
I didn’t get a good look at her teeth. Do fairies eat people?
My back is to the forest, and it’s making the back of my neck prickle. The sensation reminds me of when you hang your leg off the bed at night. You can’t help but feel like something is going to grab it. Most likely something of the terrifying monster variety.
I swallow, trying to dismiss my unease. Prioritizing is important. Focusing on the possibly carnivorous fairy seems like a solid strategy.
