I stare at it, trying to process what I’m looking at.
The boots. The hat. The damn cat.
Then it speaks.
“Whoa—easy there, kid,” it says. Voice warm, a little scratchy, like someone’s uncle who’s been up all night drinking tea and telling stories.
“Didn’t mean to spook you.”
I take a step back. “You’re a cat.”
“Yep,” it says. “Name’s Nick.”
It tips the straw hat politely with one paw, like that’s a totally normal thing to do.
I open my mouth, then close it again. “What…”
Nick watches me, head slightly tilted, tail flicking lazily behind him. His eyes are emerald green—steady, unreadable. Not wide or surprised—just curious. Calm, like he’s seen stranger things than a guy stumbling through the woods.
“You look like hell,” he says.
I don’t answer. Still trying to understand how a talking cat in boots is the least confusing part of my day.
Nick gives me a little nod. “C’mon. You shouldn’t be standing out here all alone.”
“Where exactly is here?” I ask.
He starts walking, like he didn’t hear the question. Or maybe he’s just ignoring it. His boots make almost no sound against the leaves and dirt.
I hesitate. Then I follow.
“Look,” Nick says over his shoulder, “I don’t know who you are or how you ended up in Ashgrove, but you don’t look like you’ve had a good morning. And trust me—being alone out here? Not the best idea.”
“Why?” I ask.
He shrugs. “The forest gets weird when it’s quiet. That’s all.”
We keep walking. Trees lean in close, the path barely more than packed earth and scattered roots. Light slips through the canopy in thin, dusty beams.
After a while, Nick speaks again.
“You got a name?”
I pause. “…I think so.”
He glances back. “That’s a start.”
I don’t ask him anything else. Not yet. My mind’s too full, and I’m not sure I want answers anyway.
We walk in silence a while longer.
Then, under my breath, I say it.
“Sebastian.”
Nick doesn’t say anything at first. Just gives a small nod.
We keep walking.
Nick’s tail flicks once, then settles. “You drink tea?”
I blink. “What?”
“Tea,” he says, glancing back. “You know—leaves, hot water, peace of mind?”
I give him a look. “You carry tea?”
Nick leans close, whispers something I can’t quite catch. Then, almost out of nowhere, a small leather bag appears at his paws. He taps it once with a paw, and it unfolds itself slightly. From inside, he pulls out a neat bundle of firewood, a blackened little kettle, two cups wrapped in cloth, and a tin of tea.
“Travel-sized,” he says simply.
I almost laugh. “Something like that.”
He gives a soft chuckle, then keeps walking like this is the most normal conversation in the world.
Through the trees, the light changes—thicker now, more golden. The path winds tighter, but Nick moves like he’s walked it a thousand times.
“You live out here?” I ask.
“Sort of,” he says. “Ashgrove’s big. My corner’s quiet. Rabbits don’t bother me, and I don’t bother them.”
“Rabbits?”
“You’ll see.”
Something in his tone makes me raise an eyebrow, but I don’t press.
We keep walking. The woods whisper around us.
And for the first time since waking up… I feel something close to calm. Not safe, not sure. But close.
We keep walking until Nick slows and stops beside a massive oak, its gnarled roots twisting like ancient fingers across the earth.
He settles down at the base, tail curling neatly around his paws, and pats the ground beside him. “Sit. We’ll take a break.”
I drop down, the rough bark pressing against my back as I lean against the trunk. The forest feels alive—dappled sunlight filtering through leaves, the faint scent of moss and earth thick in the air.
Nick sets up quickly. He arranges the firewood just right, then strikes a spark with a tiny stone. The fire crackles to life, sending a thin ribbon of smoke upward.
The kettle warms over the flames, and soon Nick is pouring hot tea into the small cups. The steam curls in the cool air, carrying a subtle scent of herbs.
I take a sip. Warmth spreads through me like a quiet promise. My muscles relax for the first time since I woke up.
Nick watches me, emerald eyes reflecting the firelight. “Better?”
“A little,” I say. “Thanks.”
He grins, though his whiskers twitch like he’s holding back a joke. “Good. You’ll need it.”
I don’t ask what I’ll need it for. Not yet.
We sit there in silence, the woods humming softly around us, and for a moment, the world feels less strange.
Nick’s tail flicked lazily as he glanced up at me. “You hungry?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t eaten since before the ship.”
Without a word, Nick reached into his small leather bag and pulled out a compact, blackened pot. He set it carefully on the fire, the metal warming quickly.
“I’ll get us something to eat,” he said, then slipped quietly into the trees.
The forest was alive with soft sounds—the rustling leaves, distant birdcalls, and the crunch of Nick’s paws on underbrush.
After a few minutes, he returned carrying a handful of wild mushrooms—plump, with deep russet caps—a cluster of bright red berries I didn’t recognize, and some fresh green herbs with delicate leaves.
He dropped them gently into the pot. The water hissed as it met the fire’s heat, steam rising with an earthy, herbal scent.
“The mushrooms add flavor,” Nick explained, “the berries give it a little zing, and the herbs help settle your stomach.”
I watched the fire flicker, the steam swirling upward. Somehow, this simple act—the warmth, the smell, the quiet company—felt like a small island of normal in a sea of confusion.
Nick crouched by the fire and pulled a small leather flask from his bag. He poured clear water into the pot, the liquid swirling around the mushrooms, berries, and herbs.
The steam thickened, carrying a warm, comforting scent that wrapped around me like a blanket.
“We wait,” Nick said, settling back on his haunches. His emerald eyes caught the flicker of flames.
I watched the soup bubble gently, feeling the tension in my chest ease a little.
After a few minutes, Nick dipped a tiny wooden ladle into the pot and handed me a cup. The soup was warm, earthy, and just a little sweet from the berries.
I took a slow sip. The warmth spread through me, filling a hollow I hadn’t noticed before.
Nick smiled, quietly pleased. “Good, right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Better than I expected.”
We sat there a while longer, sharing the simple meal in silence.
Nick smirked and said, “You know, I’m kind of a legend around here. They say I make dishes so good, even the trees stop to listen.”
I blinked. “Really?”
He nodded seriously. “Yep. Guess that’s why the forest keeps me around.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Somehow, Nick’s strange confidence was contagious.
Nick drained his cup, stretched, then looked up at me with those sharp emerald eyes.
“Well, Sebastian, you ready to get moving?” he asked.
I nodded, feeling a little more steady now. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
He stood and kicked the fire gently with his paw. The flames flickered and died quickly, smoke curling into the cool air.
“Can’t leave a fire burning in the woods,” he said with a wink.
He hopped to his feet, tail flicking with purpose.
“Good. Ashgrove’s not far, but the forest can play tricks if you’re not careful.”
We stepped away from the fire, the shadows shifting behind us as we followed a narrow path winding deeper into the woods toward the village.
We pushed through the thick undergrowth, branches scraping at my arms, the forest closing in all around us. The air was cooler here, heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth. Nick moved ahead with quiet confidence, like he belonged to this place.
Slowly, the trees thinned. Light spilled in from above, and distant birdsong drifted through the air.
Up ahead, rooftops appeared, clustered like a patchwork quilt. Thin trails of smoke curled lazily from chimneys, fading into the pale morning sky.
“We’re close,” Nick said softly.
I paused, staring at the village nestled beyond the trees. It looked peaceful—too peaceful. Something in me tightened, a warning I couldn’t shake.
Nick glanced back at me, eyes gleaming. “This is Cottonwell.”
The name felt strange on my tongue.
I swallowed hard. “Cottonwell…”
We stepped out of the woods, the quiet settling around us like a weight.
And in that moment, I knew—nothing here would be simple.
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