AT THE SAME EVENING
WANESSA'S POINT OF VIEW:
The fire crackles weakly, the small flames offering little warmth as I huddle closer. I've scavenged what I can from the forest, twigs, roots, and leather scraps, and managed to make a simple tool. It's not much, but it's something. My stomach growls, but there's nothing to eat yet another evening. I'll have to keep going. As the night drags on, I force myself to stay awake, watching the fire and listening to the eerie sounds of the forest. Every crackle, every whisper of wind, feels like a threat, but I already got used to it.
By morning, the forest feels less overpowering. The sun's weak light filters through the trees, and I can feel the warmth on my face. I push through the underbrush, my body sore, my mind exhausted. But then, there's something different. A scent in the air, something familiar. My legs feel like they might give out, but I keep moving. And then, through the trees, I see it. A small village. People. Real people. I stumble forward, nearly falling as I break through the tree line. I can barely believe my eyes. I don't care about anything else right now. I'm not alone. I don't even know if they'll accept me, but I don't care. For the first time in what feels like forever, I'm not alone. A woman steps forward, her face soft with concern but still cautious.
"You look like you've been through hell." She says gently. "What happened to you?"
I open my mouth to speak, but my throat is dry, and my voice cracks.
"Please," I whisper, "I just need help."I whisper.
She exchanges a glance with the others, and a few of the villagers murmur among themselves. I can see their hesitation, but then a man steps forward. His face is rugged, his clothes simple, but there's something about him that stands out, his piercing blue eyes, the way he carries himself, calm and steady. He doesn't flinch when he looks at me. Instead, he gives a small nod, his voice low but kind.
"Come with me." He says, and though his words are few, they carry a quiet authority. "We'll get you cleaned up."
I follow him without question, too weak to protest, too grateful for the chance to rest. The villagers watch us, their eyes full of curiosity, but they don't stop us. The man leads me to a small, stone building on the edge of the village, and I can feel the warmth in the air as we step inside. It's simple, but it smells like home, herbs, fresh bread, and the comforting scent of wood smoke. He gestures to a chair by a small wooden table.
'Sit." He says. His tone is calm, like he's done this before.
I sink into the chair, too tired to stand any longer. My limbs feel like lead. The man moves around the room, gathering a basin of warm water, a rough cloth, and a few herbs. He sets them down in front of me.
"Clean yourself up." He says softly, his gaze steady on me. "You've been through enough."
"Thank you." I whisper, my voice weak and tired. "I am so happy to see people again."
He doesn't reply, just watches me quietly as I begin to wash the dirt and grime from my face. I feel his eyes on me, but I don't mind. It's not uncomfortable. It's like he's observing, making sure I'm alright. I don't know why, but I feel like he's not just watching me, he's waiting for something, studying me carefully. Once I finish, I look up at him, my hands still shaking from the effort.
"I don't know how to thank you." I say, my voice soft.
He nods, his eyes still fixed on me.
"You don't need to thank me, he replies quietly. "You're not the first to come through here like this. But you should rest."
I nod, too exhausted to argue. He hands me a rough tunic, simple but warm, and I change quickly, feeling a little less like a stranger in my own skin. As I pull the tunic over my head, I glance at him again. He's still watching, his eyes never leaving me. There's something about him, something I can't quite place, but I don't feel afraid. Not now.
"Get some sleep." He says, his voice low. "We'll talk in the morning."
I nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. For the first time in so long, I feel like I might survive this. I sit back in the chair, my eyes heavy with exhaustion, but before I can close them, I feel his eyes on me once more.
I wake up to the sound of the village coming to life voices outside, the faint clatter of pots, and the rustle of feet on dirt. My body feels heavy, but the warmth from the fire and the comfort of the tunic Noah gave me make it easier to push through the exhaustion. I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes, trying to shake off the lingering fog of sleep. Noah is standing by the door, watching me with those piercing blue eyes. There's something steady and unyielding about him, like he's seen too much to be easily surprised. But there's also a kindness there, an understanding that makes me feel like I'm not entirely lost.
"You're awake." He says quietly, his voice calm. "I'm Noah, leader of Sundown Village."
I nod, still unsure of what to say.
"Thank you." I whisper, my voice hoarse from the night. "For everything"
Noah gives a small nod in return, his expression unreadable.
"It's what we do here. We help those in need." He steps closer, his gaze softening. "But I need to know what happened to you. Why were you in the Death Forest?"
I hesitate, my heart pounding in my chest. It's not easy to talk about what happened to me, why I ended up here. But Noah's eyes are kind, and for the first time in a long while, I don't feel like I'm being judged.
"I was cast out." I begin, my voice trembling. "My pack… they rejected me. They threw me out, and I ended up in the forest"
Noah listens in silence, his gaze steady, but I can see a flicker of something in his eyes. Sympathy? Anger? I can't quite tell.
"I've been surviving on my own since then." I continue, the words spilling out. "The forest is dangerous. I don't know how I'm still alive. I don't know how I survived there."
When I finish, the room falls quiet. Noah doesn't speak right away. I can hear the villagers outside, murmuring, their voices growing louder. Then, the door opens, and a few of the villagers step inside, their eyes flicking over to me. They've heard my story. One of the women, an older woman with graying hair, steps forward, her face tight with anger.
"You were rejected by your pack, and you just expect us to take you in?' She asks, her voice sharp. "You're a rogue. You could bring trouble to our village."
Another man, younger but with a hard expression, crosses his arms over his chest.
"We don't know you. We don't know what you're capable of. The Death Forest is no place for weaklings, and you look like you've been running from something."He said.
Noah steps forward, his voice cutting through the tension.
"Enough." He says firmly, his tone brokering no argument. "Wanessa is here now. She's not a threat to us."
The villagers fall silent, their eyes shifting between him and me. There's still suspicion in the air, but Noah's presence is enough to hold them back for now.
"I'll take responsibility for her." Noah adds, his gaze never leaving the villagers. "She's not the first to come to us in need, and she won't be the last. We help those who need it, and right now, Wanessa needs us"
The older woman looks like she wants to argue, but she doesn't. Instead, she lets out a frustrated sigh, muttering something under her breath before turning to leave the room. The younger man follows her, still glaring at me but saying nothing.
"I'm sorry about them. They're just cautious. This village has seen its share of trouble, and trust doesn't come easily."Noah said.
"I understand. I didn't mean to cause any problems."I whispered.
"You didn't." Noah says quietly. "You're safe here, for now. We'll figure out what to do next, but first, you need to rest. You've been through a lot."
I look up at him, my eyes filled with gratitude.
"Thank you." I whisper again. "I don't know what I would've done without you."
Noah gives a small smile.
"You don't have to thank me. It's what we do here."He said.
But as I sit there, still feeling the weight of their stares, I know that the road ahead won't be easy. The villagers may not trust me yet, and I don't know if I'll ever fully belong here. But for now, I have a place to stay. A chance to survive.