The passing months are a blur of suffering and quiet resignation for Anna. Each day bleeds into the next, marked by the same relentless routine. She trudges through her duties—feeding the animals, watering the plants, and tending to the majestic Tree of Life. The relentless cycle of healing flesh wounds, inflicted each night, serves as a constant reminder of her mysterious burden.
Each night, Isabella visits her room to strangle her, a ritual of cruelty made more unbearable by the saintly strength granted by the gods. The suffocating pain and sheer hopelessness of it all are carved into Anna's spirit, yet she makes no complaint. Words, she has learned, are useless. They will not stop the hatred that surrounds her.
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It was a misty morning. Anna trudges through the forest, clutching a pail of water, struggling with the burning flesh wounds beneath her clothes that ache with every step. Her destination is the Tree of Life, an ancient, towering beacon of vitality in the heart of the woods. As she reaches its roots, she kneels to pour the water, her trembling hands steadying only briefly before a rustling in the bushes catches her attention.
Anna froze, her trembling hands clutching the basket of berries she had painstakingly gathered that morning. The figure emerging from the dense foliage was unlike anyone she'd seen before. His forest-green cloak blended seamlessly with the shadows of the trees, and a leather quiver slung across his back hinted at his skill as an archer. His dark, tousled hair framed piercing emerald eyes, and a faint smirk tugged at his lips, giving him a roguish charm that felt both disarming and dangerous.
The man—no, the protector of the forest—stopped a few paces away, his sharp eyes scanning Anna with quiet intensity.
"Who are you?" Anna managed, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart hammered in her chest, unsure whether to run or plead.
He studied her for a moment longer before his expression softened. "I could ask you the same question," he said, his voice smooth and steady. "But I think I already know."
Anna blinked, confused. "You… you know me?"
Renard chuckled lightly, though it carried no malice. "Not exactly. But I've heard stories—stories about a girl who tends to the forest. Someone who feeds the animals, waters the plants, and cares for life itself even though the forest seems to reject her." He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as if piecing together a puzzle. "I think I've finally found her."
Anna's lips parted in shock. No one had ever spoken of her in such a way before. "You… you must have the wrong person," she stammered, her eyes darting to the ground.
"Doubtful," Renard said firmly. "You've been feeding the animals, haven't you? And watering the Tree of Life? I've seen the signs. Every creature in this forest owes their survival to someone—someone unseen but ever-present."
"I… I just do what I can," Anna murmured, clutching the basket tighter. Her voice was tinged with shame. "But they don't like me. The animals… they attack me sometimes."
Renard frowned, his gaze dropping to her hands. His sharp eyes caught the faint scars peeking out from her sleeves. "Those marks—are they from the animals?"
Anna hesitated, then nodded. "It's not their fault," she said quickly, her tone defensive. "I'm the one who isn't good enough. If I could just—"
"Stop." Renard held up a hand, his tone suddenly firm. "Don't you dare blame yourself for their cruelty. This forest, this world—it owes you a debt. You don't owe it anything."
Anna blinked up at him, startled. No one had ever defended her before. She wasn't sure how to respond, so she simply shook her head. "You're wrong," she whispered. "I don't deserve—"
"Enough," Renard interrupted, his voice gentler this time. He crouched slightly to meet her gaze, his expression earnest. "Tell me, why do you keep doing it? Why do you care for creatures that hurt you?"
Anna hesitated; the words caught in her throat. Finally, she managed, "Because… because they need someone to care for them. And I… I just love animals very much."
Renard studied her, his emerald eyes softening with something that resembled admiration. "That's exactly why I trust you," he said after a pause. "People like you are rare, Anna. The world doesn't deserve you, but it needs you all the same."
Anna's breath hitched at the unexpected kindness in his words. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked cautiously.
Renard straightened, crossing his arms. "Because I've been searching for someone like you. For years, I've heard whispers about a girl who quietly protects this forest. I didn't think I'd ever find her, but here you are."
"I'm not… I'm not what you think," Anna said, shaking her head. "I'm no protector. I'm—"
"A survivor," Renard finished for her. "That's even more impressive."
Anna opened her mouth to protest, but his gentle smile silenced her. For the first time in years, she felt the faintest flicker of hope—fragile, but alive.
Renard extended his hand. "Come with me. There's someone I'd like you to meet."
Anna hesitated, her instincts urging her to retreat. But something in Renard's demeanor—his steady gaze, his calm presence—made her step forward. She placed her trembling hand in his, and he led her deeper into the forest.
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As they walked, Renard spoke of his life as a guardian of the forest. He described his mission to protect the animals from poachers and noblemen who hunted for sport. He regaled her with tales of daring escapades—stealing supplies from the wealthy and delivering them to the poor, sabotaging the traps laid by hunters, and outsmarting the duke's soldiers at every turn.
Anna listened in awe, her fear slowly melting away with each story. For the first time in her life, she felt seen—not as a burden, but as someone worth knowing. Renard's kindness, however unfamiliar, began to chip away at the walls she'd built around her heart.
"Do you ever get tired of it?" she asked quietly as they reached a clearing. "Fighting for people who might not even know you're helping them?"
Renard shrugged, a small smile playing at his lips. "Sometimes. But knowing I've made a difference, even a small one, makes it worth it. And now that I've found you, I think I'll be a little less lonely on this journey."
Anna felt her cheeks warm, and she quickly looked away. "I don't know if I can help you," she admitted. "I'm not strong or brave like you."
"You're stronger than you think, Anna," Renard said simply. "You've survived things most people couldn't even imagine. That takes a kind of strength no sword or bow could ever give."
By the time they reached Renard's hidden hideout—a cozy, camouflaged cabin nestled within a grove—Anna felt a strange sense of belonging.
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Renard pushed open the wooden door of his hideout, stepping aside to let Anna in. She hesitated at first, clutching her cloak tighter around her shoulders, but the gentle nudge of his hand urged her forward. Inside, the room was a mix of rustic charm and utilitarian function: a crackling fireplace in the corner, shelves packed with dried herbs and books, and a large wooden table in the center surrounded by mismatched chairs. Around it sat Renard's comrades, their faces lighting up with curiosity and, in some cases, suspicion as they spotted Anna.
"Well, well," drawled Liora, a slim woman with piercing gray eyes and an ever-present dagger at her side. She tilted her head, scrutinizing Anna like a hawk eyeing its prey. "What have we here?"
Garrek, a burly man with a thick beard and a long scar running down his cheek, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "You finally found her, didn't you?" His tone was skeptical, but there was a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes.
Renard nodded, placing a hand on Anna's shoulder. "I believe I have."
Anna blinked, startled by the weight of his words. "Found who?" she asked softly, her voice barely audible.
"The girl from the stories," Arlen, a young man with sandy blond hair, said with a broad smile. "The one who tends to the animals, heals the wounded, and keeps the forest alive."
Liora scoffed, leaning back and tossing her dagger from hand to hand. "She doesn't exactly scream 'legendary,' does she?"
Anna shrank under the weight of their gazes, clutching the edges of her sleeves. "I-I don't know what you mean," she stammered. "I just… do what I can for the animals. That's all."
Renard stepped forward, his voice firm but kind. "Anna, for years, there have been stories of a girl—a protector—who nurtures the creatures of the forest. My comrades and I have been searching for her, following the signs. Even the King of the Animal Kingdom has sent word to find her. And now, I'm certain it's you."
Anna's breath caught in her throat. "I'm no one special," she whispered, shaking her head.
Liora narrowed her eyes. "Or maybe you're not the one we're looking for at all. Maybe this is just some mistake."
"Or a lie," Garrek grunted. "Could be a trick. We've seen stranger."
Anna winced, their doubts cutting through her fragile sense of self. But Arlen interjected, his tone gentle. "Renard wouldn't bring her here unless he was certain. Besides, think about it—someone has been caring for the Tree of Life. Who else could it be?"
Liora huffed but said nothing, her dagger clinking against the table as she set it down. Garrek crossed his arms tighter, grumbling under his breath but refraining from further argument.
Renard turned back to Anna. "You don't have to believe it yourself, Anna. But I've seen what you do. The way you care for the creatures, even when it costs you everything. That's something only the girl from the stories could do."
"But I… I just…" Anna's voice faltered as a lump formed in her throat. She wasn't sure what to say. She wasn't sure she deserved their faith.
Or if this would last.