I drop to the ground in silence.
Not even the wind dares interrupt.
She kneels before the silver-veined vine. The same one she touched days ago. It curls toward her like a cat seeking sun. She reaches for it again—slow, hesitant.
The moment her fingers brush the leaf, the ward flares.
Light pulses blue-white. The tree groans. The air stiffens.
And then she’s frozen, hand still outstretched, eyes wide with shock.
I step out from behind the bark-wall.
The shadows peel back around me. Vines retract. Earth splits beneath my bare feet with every step. She sees me.
She gasps.
But she doesn’t scream.
She stares.
Like I’m not something to fear—but something tounderstand.
My voice is low, ground from stone and root. “You were warned.”
“I—I’m sorry,” she breathes, stumbling back onto her heels, both palms raised like I’m about to strike.
I don’t move closer. Just stand there. Let her look.
She sees the vines in my skin. The runes glowing faintly on my collarbones. The bark along my jaw, cracked and dark as old oak. My eyes. They always look brighter to humans.
But she doesn’t flinch.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt anything,” she says. Her voice is soft, but steady.
I tilt my head. “Intent does not prevent consequence.”
She looks down at the vine. It's pulled back slightly, but not in fear.
“I thought it wanted me to,” she mumbles. “It moved yesterday. Toward me. Like it was curious.”
“The Grove does not move without reason.”
“Then what was the reason?”
She looks at me when she says it. Not defiantly. Not challenging. Just… searching.
I should turn her away.
I should scare her enough she never crosses that line again.
But I don’t.
The tree behind me shudders. It knows.
I lower my voice, rough and quiet. “You’re not meant to be here.”
“I didn’t know where the line was.”
