I couldn’t stop staring at his outfit—rough-spun tunic, leather vest worn at the shoulders, a hunting knife sheathed at his belt. Part of me wanted to bombard him with questions, but another part whispered to stay quiet, observe more. Was this some medieval reenactment? A hidden community? The man looked human enough—same proportions, same features as people back home—but something in his weathered face seemed… different. Older somehow. More hardened.

My heart raced. Should I play along or demand answers? I call my attention back.

“Excuse me,” I finally said, my voice wavering between politeness and panic.

“Could you tell me where I am? And who you are? I don’t… I don’t understand what’s happening.” I try my best to not be panic.

He tilted his head, studying me with unsettling familiarity.

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Easy now, miss. Name’s Ethan.”

He pushes a bit and continues,

“So you truly don’t remember, Miss Athene? Interesting. Master said you might be… confused. Said I should keep you close.”

The wink he gives me sends contradictory chills down my spine—threatening? Reassuring? I can’t tell.

Ethan…..Master……losing memories?

Master? What master? My stomach twists as I try to piece together what game he’s playing—or worse, what game I’ve stumbled into without knowing the rules.

“Ethan,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel, “where exactly are we going? I really don’t—”

Before I can finish, he leaps from the tree branch, landing on his feet with impossible grace. No stumble, no wince of pain. Like gravity itself makes exceptions for him.

“Losing memories, huh?” he responds quick.

His smile seems genuine, but something cold lurks behind his eyes.

“That’s why I should escort you safely. Don’t worry.” He smirks and then he gestures down a shadowed path, his half-smile making my skin prickle.

“Follow this route, lady.”

I look at him, trying to think whether or not should I trust his words. Every instinct screams to run the opposite direction, yet something magnetic pulls me toward him. I take a hesitant step forward, hating myself for following, yet terrified of what might happen if I don’t and also, where else can I go in this strange forest?

After all, feeling lost and alone may be worse than following this unsettling stranger. Doesn’t it? Hence, I decide to go with the flow, follow his way and he walks behind me instead. I don’t quite know his intention but I really have nothing to lose to scare of being kidnapped.

The forest envelops me in its ancient embrace—towering pines with bark like cracked leather, their needles a canopy of emerald lace overhead. Golden light filters through in dusty shafts, catching on spider silk strung between branches. Though I’ve lost track of time in this place, the quality of light suggests late afternoon, perhaps 16:30, the sun hanging low and heavy like a ripe fruit about to drop.

A narrow dirt path winds through the underbrush, tamped down by unknown feet before mine. Violets and wood sorrel peek from beneath fallen logs, their delicate petals trembling in the same breeze that sends ripples through patches of ferns. Monarch butterflies drift between sunbeams, their wings stained-glass windows against the light. The air smells of damp earth and pine sap, sweet and sharp at once.

My footsteps fall silent as my mind drifts. The forest blurs around me—colors bleeding together like watercolors on wet paper. The birdsong fades, replaced by the thundering of my own pulse in my ears. Questions rise like bubbles in still water:

Who waits for me?

What life have I abandoned?

What will become of my parents, their morning coffee cups sitting empty, waiting for a child who may never return?