He was there. In his hand, my watch. My father’s watch. 

For a moment, nothing else existed. Not the trees. Not the wind. Not even the sound of my own breathing. Just that small, familiar object, hanging loosely between his fingers like it had always belonged to him. 

That didn’t make sense. I hadn’t lost it. I would have noticed. I always noticed. So how— A sharp inhale caught in my throat before I even realised I’d taken it. 

It wasn’t the military. It wasn’t some inspection. It wasn’t someone going through my things. It was him. All that tension. All that thinking. All of it was wrong. 

My fingers curled slowly at my sides. He had followed me. The thought didn’t settle properly. It just… hovered there, incomplete. Why? 

I didn’t move closer. Didn’t move at all. He stood a few steps away, watching me. Not like before. Not from a distance. Closer. Too close. 

His grip on the watch wasn’t tight. Not protective. Not careless either. Just… holding it. Like he didn’t know what to do with it. 

I swallowed. “...You followed me.” My voice came out quieter than I expected. Rougher too. He flinched. Not violently. Just enough to notice. His shoulders tightened. 

His eyes shifted, not away, but around me, like he was tracking something I couldn’t see. I lifted my hands slowly. Empty. “I’m not—” My voice stalled. I had to start again. “I’m not here to hurt you.” 

He didn’t respond. Didn’t nod. Didn’t step back. Just stared. 

His breathing was wrong. Too fast. Like something was about to happen and he didn’t know which direction it would come from. 

I forced myself to stay still. Every instinct in my body told me to control the situation. Say something. Do something. But nothing I thought of felt right. 

“...You can keep it.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. I frowned slightly. Why did I say that? It wasn’t even a decision. It just… happened. 

His eyes dropped to the watch. Then back to me. Still nothing. No reaction. “You don’t talk?” I tried again, softer this time. Silence. 

The forest shifted. Not loudly. Not suddenly. But enough. A subtle change. Like something had moved where nothing should have. My body reacted before my mind did. My shoulders tensed. My head turned slightly. 

There, a sound. Low. Not loud enough to echo. But deep enough to settle in my chest. A growl. I didn’t breathe. 

Something stepped forward from the trees. Slow. Controlled. Heavy, but silent in a way that didn’t feel natural. And then I saw it. 

A wolf. No. Not just a wolf. Too large. Too still. Its eyes caught the light through the branches. Gold. Not bright but focused.

My body locked. Every thought I had disappeared. The boy moved instantly. One step. Then another. Until he was behind it. Not running. Not panicked. Just… retreating to something he trusted. 

That was worse. Much worse. My hand lifted slightly before I realised it. 

“Wait—” The word barely formed. The wolf didn’t react. Didn’t move. Didn’t blink. It just looked at me. And for the first time, I understood something clearly. If it wanted me dead, I wouldn’t be standing here. 

That didn’t make it better. That made it worse. “I didn’t—” My voice broke. I swallowed hard. “I wasn’t— I was just—” 

“I know.” The voice didn’t belong. Not to the boy. Not to anything I could see. I turned. Nothing. No one. My chest tightened. 

“I know,” it said again. Closer. Clearer. My head snapped back. The wolf hadn’t moved. 

“No.” The word came out under my breath. I didn’t even realise I said it. That didn’t— That wasn’t— 

“You entered this forest twice.” My heart stopped. The wolf stepped forward. Just once. And everything in me screamed to move. To run. To do anything. But I couldn’t. 

“Once with a weapon,” she continued. Her voice didn’t rise. Didn’t change. It stayed level. Controlled. Certain. “Once without.” My throat tightened. She saw that? How— 

“I saw both.” The words landed heavier than anything else. Not loud. Not threatening. Just… final. I tried to speak. Nothing came out. My mouth opened. Closed. Nothing. 

The boy shifted behind her, pressing closer to her leg. My eyes flickered to him. Then back. The wolf’s gaze hadn’t moved. “The first time,” she said, “you showed me how you deal with uncertainty.” 

My fingers twitched slightly. “The second time…” A pause. Longer this time. “…you hesitated.” My chest tightened. I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. 

“You questioned your actions.” 

My jaw clenched slightly. Not in defiance. Just, instinct. “Duty,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “Or choice.” 

Something in my mind shifted. Uncomfortable. Too close. 

“I didn’t—” I started. Then stopped. Because I didn’t know how to finish that sentence. She didn’t interrupt. Didn’t press. She just watched. Waiting. And somehow— That was worse. 

“I…” My voice came out quieter. “I didn’t think it mattered.” The moment I said it, I knew it sounded wrong. Incomplete. But it was all I had. She didn’t react immediately. 

Her gaze moved. Not away. Just slightly. Towards the boy. “He chose not to strike,” she said. Not correcting me. Not agreeing. Just… stating something else. 

Then her eyes returned to me. “That is why you are still alive.” 

My stomach dropped. There was no threat in her voice. No aggression. Just truth. Simple. Unavoidable. I swallowed hard. 

“Why are you—” I stopped again. The question didn’t feel right anymore. Not like this. Not after that. She didn’t wait for me to finish. 

“He does not belong here.” Her head lowered slightly towards the boy. “He does not belong with you.” My brows pulled together slightly. 

“Then why—” “He cannot remain.” That cut through the rest of my sentence. Clean. Final. I frowned. 

“He’s fine,” I said, instinctively. “He’s surviving.” Her gaze didn’t change. 

“He is enduring.” The correction was immediate. And it landed harder than I expected. “He watches the world,” she continued, “but does not understand it.” My eyes flickered to the boy again. He was watching me. Still holding the watch. Like none of this made sense to him either. 

“He will either learn,” she said, “or be shaped.” My chest tightened slightly. “Shaped how?” She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stepped slightly to the side. Just enough for me to see deeper into the trees. Movement. Another wolf. Smaller. But not by much. 

“That is how this forest teaches.” My stomach dropped. I looked back at the boy. Then at her. Then back again. 

“He won’t survive that,” I said quietly. “He will.” No hesitation. No doubt. “But he will not remain as he is.” 

Silence fell between us. Not empty. Heavy. I swallowed. Then spoke before I could stop myself. 

“Then what do you want me to do?” The moment the words left my mouth, I realised what I’d just done. I’d stepped into it. Whatever this was. I’d accepted it without meaning to. 

Her gaze settled on me again. Longer this time. Measuring. Not just watching. Something deeper. 

“He followed you,” she said. Not answering. Not yet. I frowned slightly. “That doesn’t mean—” “You returned.” That cut me off again. I stopped. Because she was right. I had. And I didn’t have a good reason for it. 

“I…” I hesitated. Then gave up trying to justify it. “I didn’t know what else to do.” That was closer to the truth. Not complete. But closer. She didn’t respond immediately. 

Her attention shifted again. To the boy. He stepped forward slightly this time. Not hiding anymore. Not fully. But enough to be seen. 

He lifted the watch slightly. Not offering it. Not keeping it. Just, holding it between us. Something about that felt wrong. Incomplete. Like a question I didn’t understand. 

“He is waiting,” she said quietly. “For something neither of you can name.” I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t have one. Another pause. Longer this time. The forest felt still again. Like it was listening. 

“If he leaves this forest…” she said slowly, “he will not return the same.” I didn’t interrupt. Didn’t speak. “And if he stays…” A slight shift in her posture. “…he will never become anything else.” 

That hit harder than anything she’d said before. I exhaled slowly. Not on purpose. Just— Because I needed to. 

“What happens if he leaves?” I asked. My voice felt steadier now. Not calm. But… working again. She looked at me. Directly. 

“That depends on where he goes.” My throat tightened slightly. “And if he goes with me?” Silence. Longer than before. Her gaze didn’t leave mine. 

“You are not the only one he would be placed with.” My brows pulled together. 

“What does that mean?” No answer. Instead, she stepped forward. Closing the distance. Not aggressively. Not quickly. But enough that I felt it. Fully. 

“You carry structure,” she said. “Routine. Obligation. Restraint.” Each word landed slowly. Measured. “He does not.” I didn’t respond. “You hesitate,” she continued. “Yet you return.” 

My jaw tightened slightly. Not defensively. 

“If he enters your world…” A pause. “…he will break.” My chest tightened. “Then why even consider it?” I asked. 

“Because he will also change.” That answer came immediately. No hesitation. No pause. And that, that was the first time she sounded certain about something beyond observation. 

I felt that. “You cannot guide him here,” I said slowly. “And you don’t trust the forest to do it either.” Her gaze didn’t change. 

“And you don’t trust me,” I added. Still nothing. Silence again. Then— “I will observe.” The words were quiet. But firm. “Not your words.” A slight pause. “Your den.” 

My heart began racing.. Not from fear this time. Something else. 

“You’ll… what?” “Watch.” It was simple. Direct. Not negotiable.

My mind struggled to keep up. “That’s not… you can’t just…” “I already have.” That stopped me. Completely. “I know your movements,” she continued. “Your routines. Your patterns.” A slight shift of her head. “Your mother.” My chest tightened sharply. 

“What about her?” Her gaze sharpened slightly. Not aggressive. But focused. “If she is capable…” A pause. “…of holding something she does not understand, without breaking it…” I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. “…then he may leave this forest.” 

A silence that was heavy and final settled.

“And if she’s not?” I asked. My voice came out lower this time.

“Then he remains.” No hesitation. No compromise. I looked at the boy again. He was still holding the watch. Still watching me. Still waiting. 

And for the first time, I realised something clearly. This wasn’t her decision. Not fully. It wasn’t mine either. It was something in between. Something that hadn’t happened yet. 

And somehow, that made it heavier. Way heavier. I exhaled slowly. My thoughts didn’t settle. They didn’t organise. They just… moved. One into another. Messy. Unfinished. 

“...I don’t even know if I can do that,” I said quietly. She didn’t respond. Didn’t reassure. Didn’t correct. She just watched. Like that answer didn’t matter. Not yet. The boy took a small step forward. Closer this time. Not hiding anymore. 

He lifted the watch again. Just slightly. Still not offering it. Still not keeping it. Just, holding it there. Between us. And for some reason, that felt like the real question. Not her words. Not the forest. Not any of it. Just that. 

I didn’t move to take it. Didn’t move at all. Because I still didn’t understand what accepting it meant. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Not yet. Not like this. 

The forest stayed silent. The wolf didn’t move. The boy didn’t speak. And I stood there, 

Confusion settled beside me. What was happening? Did I really want to take him into my world? Or did I want him to take me into his? 

The wolf waited. The boy watched. And I felt the weight of their expectations crush the edges of my lungs. 

I had only moments, seconds, to speak. Because one hesitation, one wrong breath, and I would destroy a trust I never asked for… but somehow already feared losing.