Mara stood in the clearing long after the figure vanished. The charm in her hand no longer moved. The stone had gone cool. There were no more whispers. Just her and the quiet hum that came after something unexplainable had passed through.
She waited to feel afraid. She never did.
Instead, she crouched beside the bundle of sticks the figure had been arranging. They formed a spiral, almost perfect, like it had been done before. At the center was a smooth piece of bark. When she lifted it, she saw another carving. The same symbol again. But incomplete this time, like someone had started and stopped midway.
She turned it over in her hands. "What do you want me to finish?"
The wind stirred around her again, gentler this time, like the forest was listening. She slipped the bark into her satchel.
"Fine. I'll figure it out."
The way back wasn't clear anymore. The markings that had led her here were gone, washed from the bark, or maybe hidden from her now. Still, she didn't feel lost. The trees seemed to open when she moved, like they'd accepted her presence. Or her decision.
She kept her voice low as she walked. "You hear me now, right? Then don't disappear again. If you're going to show me things, show me the rest."
A bird flew overhead. Not a crow this time. Smaller. Blue-feathered. It chirped once and vanished beyond the treetops. She looked up only briefly, then kept walking.
Her boots crushed fallen leaves with each step. The forest floor seemed more alive now. Not in a dangerous way, just aware. She felt like she was walking inside a thought someone else was having.
When she finally reached the edge of the woods, the sky had shifted. Not quite afternoon, but past morning. She could see the roof of her house beyond the hill. A faint column of smoke rose from the chimney.
Her legs stopped.
The hearth had been cold earlier. No one had lit it.
She scanned the path for movement, eyes narrowing. "You're back now?"
She didn't expect an answer. There was none. But she didn't take another step forward either.
The scarf was still on the table. She remembered leaving it there. But if the fire was going… someone had to be inside.
Slowly, she approached the house. The door was slightly open. A sliver of warm light cut across the porch. It looked normal. Calm.
Her voice stayed quiet. "If you're trying to trick me, this is a really bad way to do it."
She stepped inside.
The warmth hit her immediately. The fire in the hearth was real. She felt it in her bones. The kettle sat above it, faint steam curling from the spout.
A place set on the table. One plate. One cup. Bread and cheese.
Her aunt was nowhere in sight.
Mara walked in and shut the door behind her. She touched the back of the chair at the table but didn't sit down.
"I didn't make this."
The food was fresh. The knife beside it had been used. She looked around the kitchen again. The coat was back in the cupboard. The scarf gone from the counter.
She moved quietly to the hall. No one upstairs. No creaks from the floorboards above. No movement at all.
She returned to the kitchen and stared at the plate.
Her voice was quieter now. "You're trying to keep me here."
She stepped back from the table. Her breath had slowed, but her fingers curled at her sides. The charm was still in her pocket. She held it tightly, then turned and left the house again.
Outside, the sun had reached its highest point.
She looked toward the village road this time.
"I'm not going back inside until I know who's setting the table."
And with that, she turned toward the path. One foot in front of the other. No hesitation.
No fear.
Just the quiet certainty that something was still ahead of her.
And this time, it would have to answer.