"Thursday evening," she said, sounding bright and cheerful. "I've got you on a flight from Heathrow. Is that okay?"

"Thursday's perfect," James responded immediately, he was relieved. He could manage three more days.

"Wonderful! Give me your mail address and I'll forward you the information regarding confirmation number, baggage allowance and all those other stuff."

Once James shared his email with her, Sarah provided all the details about Silver Crest's weather and what essentials he should pack.

"We’re up in the mountains," she explained. "It’s gorgeous but can get pretty chilly, especially after dark. So, make sure you're ready for that."

"No worries," James replied, "I'll take care of it." Even though he chatted casually on the phone, his mind kept drifting to the design he saw in the journal that morning. It looked almost like a map, all spiraling paths leading to an unidentifiable symbol in the center.

After the call ended, James stared at his phone. He was really doing this. 

By Tuesday, James had somehow managed to complete all of his outstanding assignments, even that horrible statistical analysis project he'd been putting off for weeks. He'd pulled two near-all-nighters, fueled by obscene amounts of coffee and a strange, feverish energy.

When James turned in the assignments three days early, Dev had looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

"Who are you and what have you done with my mate?" he'd inquired, jokingly.

James had just shrugged, unable to explain his real motivation.

On Tuesday evening, from Hammersmith he first went to Kingston. After picking up his trolley and items needed for the travel from his Kingston home, he went to his parents' house in Sutton.

James rang the doorbell and waited. His dad opened the door, pulling him into a hearty embrace punctuated by a couple of back-slaps.

At forty-seven, Thomas McKenna was a man of average build with dark hair silvering at the temples. He worked as a senior engineer in the Infrastructure Design division of National Highways.

"There he is! Our world traveler!"

"It's just Washington, Dad. Not exactly the other side of the world."

"Close enough," Thomas McKenna remarked, grinning. "Rachel's in the kitchen. She's been cooking all afternoon, urging you have a decent meal before you fly off."

After rolling the trolley into the living room and setting it aside,  James followed his dad through to the kitchen.

Rachel McKenna stood at the stove, back turned to them, stirring up something that filled the room with the aroma of thyme and butter. At forty-six, she was a petite woman with dark auburn hair casually pinned back—a sign she'd been deep in cooking for hours and long since gave up on fussing over it. She had a wooden spoon in one hand and a tea towel draped over her shoulder.

She turned when she heard them.

"James!" She set down her spoon and came over to embrace him, leaving stains on his jacket that she immediately tried to brush off. "Oh, we're so excited for you, love. Sarah called us, you know. She was over the moon that you're going."

"Yeah, she's been amazing with all the arrangements," James replied, hopping onto a kitchen stool. "Actually, I wanted to ask why didn't you mention she'd visited, back in autumn?"

Rachel and Thomas exchanged glances.

"We should have told you," Rachel said finally, looking at James. "Sarah specifically requested us not to. She stated when the time came, she would contact you directly. We probably should have insisted, but..." She shrugged helplessly. "Our relationship with Sarah is complicated. After everything that happened."

"What did happen?" James asked, sensing an opening. "Grandmum never really talked about it."

Rachel lowered her head, at a loss for words. Thomas cleared his throat. "Look, your grandmother and Sarah fell out a long time ago. It was way before you were born, even before your mum passed. It had to do with Sarah not coming back home and that sudden marriage to the American. Elena was just devastated to lose her in such a way."

James waited, but neither of them seemed inclined to elaborate. The kitchen fell into an uncomfortable silence.

"Right," James said eventually. "Well. She seems nice."

"She is," Rachel agreed."And Sarah says her stepson, Alex, is a lovely boy—a bit quiet, maybe, but very sweet. I think you'll like him."

Would he? James wasn't entirely sure he'd like anything about this trip beyond getting answers about the journal and the dreams and the impossible designs that kept appearing. But he nodded anyway, accepting a plate of the steaming pie.

His parents tried to convince him to stay overnight. But James declined, citing last-minute preparations. The truth was, he wasn't sure what will happen if he stayed away from the journal.

As James's was about to leave, Rachel handed him several packages. "Gifts for Sarah and her family. And there's a scarf I made for you-it gets very cold in those mountains, James. Assure me you'll wear it."

"Trust me, I will Rachel."

She held him in a tight hug. When she pulled back, her eyes were sparkling. "Be safe. And call us when you get there, okay? We would be worried."

"Of course, I will, don't worry"

Thomas walked him to the door. He took off his glasses, put a hand on James's shoulder, and looked at him "You know," he stated quietly, "your mum, would have been so proud of you. You are at the top of your class, you love your family and you are growing into such a good man." His voice thickened. "I wish she could see you now. "

James swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat.  "Thanks, Dad."

On the way back, he couldn't stop thinking that he should have told them, about the whole thing. 

But Would they believe him? 

They'd probably think he was having a breakdown.

Wednesday passed in a blur of last-minute preparations. James returned to campus one last time, ostensibly to see if his professors needed anything before he left. In reality, he just wanted to calm his nerves.

James had returned home early. Around six, the intercom buzzed while he was busy organizing items to be packed. He frowned at it, went across the room, and hit the button.

"Who is it?"

"Pizza delivery," came Dev's not-so-convincing voice.

Holding down the button, James said, "Dev." 

James buzzed them up. A minute later there was a knock at the door. When he opened it, he found the three of them squeezed into the hallway: Sophie was waving a hand-painted "BON VOYAGE JAMES" banner, Marcus had pizza boxes balanced precariously on his arms, and Dev was lugging bags that clinked with beer.

"Surprise," They shouted in unison.

"You guys are something else," James chuckled, stepping aside to  let them in.

They transformed his flat in no time. With music playing, drinks flowing, and pizza boxes spread across the table, the room suddenly felt both lively and cozy. He sipped his drink slowly, mindful of the packing marathon ahead. But he stayed in the moment. He laughed at Marcus's growingly dramatic rants about holiday duties and indulged in Dev's eager requests for mountain pics. Meanwhile, Sophie kept repeating how jealous she was that he was fleeing the dreary English weather.

"Bring us back something cool," she demanded. "Something totally American. Like... I don't know, a cowboy hat or something."

"It's Washington, Soph, not Texas."

"Details." She waved a dismissive hand. "Just swear you'll have an adventure worth hearing about when you get back."

Oh, I think that's pretty much guaranteed, James thought, keeping it to himself.

By nine, the group headed out 

with final farewells and last-minute tips. Sophie gave him a lingering hug at the door, Dev remained him again not to forget about the photos, and Marcus just gave his shoulder a firm squeeze saying, "Safe travels, mate."

As soon as the door clicked shut, silence rushed back into the apartment. James stood in the room, looking at the cheerful wreckage his friends had left behind—the empty bottles, the crumpled pizza boxes, and Sophie's goofy banner still hanging crookedly on the wall. He gently took it down and folded it up. Not really sure why; he just couldn't bring himself to toss it.

Marcus has been James's friend since childhood and he'd known Sophie and Dev since first year of university. Standing there in the quiet, he realized just how fortunate he was to have them.

After tidying the room, James turned his attention to his luggage. For three hours, he packed diligently: All the things Sarah had suggested, his boots, Rachel's scarf, the gifts-everything. And finally he tucked his grandmother's journal into his backpack, wrapping it in an pillowcase to keep it safe.

By the time he collapsed into bed around one AM, James was utterly exhausted.

It should have been a dreamless night.

But the forest was waiting...