The adults always said the forest was a place of hunger. They warned that if you stepped beneath the canopy, the shadows would consume you and you would never return. In the village, mothers repeated this warning a thousand times, tethering their children to the safety of the sunlit streets.
But there was one boy who did not fear the deep green. To him, the forest wasn't a trap; it was a promise. One afternoon, he gathered his courage and stepped past the last house and into the trees.
The woods weren't scary at all. They were lush and fresh. The trees stood like ancient towers, their leaves weaving a roof that hid the sky. He walked in a straight line, careful to keep a path home in his mind. But then, he heard it—the sharp snap of a branch behind him.
He froze. He walked faster. The footsteps behind him sped up, matching his pace. Terrified, he broke into a sprint, diving through the brush to lose whatever was hunting him. When he finally collapsed, gasping for air, he realized the trail was gone. Every direction looked the same. The forest had finally swallowed him. He sat in the dirt and began to cry.
Suddenly, a hand touched his back. He let out a scream so loud his throat stung, nearly fainting from the shock. Trembling, he turned around to face his end—but it was only a girl.
She looked to be his age, with a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. She looked at his tear-streaked face and began to giggle.
"What's so funny?" he yelled, his face turning red. "I'm lost!"
"I'm sorry," she said, trying to hide her smile behind her hand. "But you make such a funny face when you cry. You look like a grumpy frog."
Feeling humiliated, the boy looked at the ground and sniffled. Seeing his hurt pride, the girl reached out and gently rubbed his head, trying to make amends. He weakly pushed her hand away.
"I don't need that," he muttered, his voice still shaking.
"Well," she said, leaning in. "You're lost, aren't you? What if I told you I could lead you straight home?"
The boy's eyes lit up instantly. "Really? You know the way?"
"But!" she added, holding up a finger. "Only if you come sit with me at the creek first. That's my price."
"Fine! I'll do it," the boy agreed without a second thought.
"You're very easy to trick," she chuckled. "Here, hold my hand. Don't let go, or you'll be a lost frog again."
She led him through the thicket to a hidden creek. The water was perfectly clear, babbling and purling over smooth stones. They sat together in the cool grass, watching the water flow.
"This is my secret place," she whispered. "I bet you've never seen anything this pretty before."
The boy nodded, mesmerized. He had lived near the forest his whole life, but he never knew this peace existed. They sat in silence until the sun began to dip, painting the trees in orange light.
"I have to go," the boy said. "My mom will be so worried."
The girl nodded and took his hand. In what felt like only a heartbeat, they were standing at the edge of the village. Before he could run home, she stopped him.
"This is our secret," she said. She took his hand and pressed it against his lips, then did the same with her own. "Don't tell a soul about me or the creek. Promise?"
"I promise!" he said, waving as he ran toward his house.
For years, the boy returned to the forest. They spent their days by the water, sometimes talking, sometimes just listening to the trees. One day, the girl challenged him.
"Let's play hide and seek," she said. "I'll hide, you seek."
The boy searched everywhere. He looked under ferns and behind mossy rocks. Finally, he spotted a massive, gnarled tree he had always ignored. When he peered behind the trunk, he saw something strange—something he couldn't quite understand, as if the bark and the shadows were playing tricks on his eyes.
"You found me!" her voice chirped from right behind him. He jumped, startled. "I guess I lost. Good job!"
He was about to ask her what he had seen behind the tree, but she spoke first, her expression becoming serious.
"Can you do one last favor for me? When you go back tonight, tell everyone in the village that you found me. Just that. Don't answer any other questions—remember our secret. After that… I'm afraid I'll have to hide again. But if you promise to find me once more, I'll wait for you."
Then she gave him a smile that shone like the sun.
He promised her he would. She held his hand one last time as the sky turned dark, leading him to the edge of the woods. When he got home, he told the village exactly what she said: "I found her."
He went back the next day. And the day after that. But the creek was quiet. The girl was gone. No matter how deep he went, he never found a trace of her again.
Many years have passed, and the boy is now a man. He still enters the forest every day. The villagers think he is strange, but he doesn't care. He carries their secret in his heart, moving through the trees with his eyes wide open. He promised her that wherever she hid, he would be the one to find her—and always will be.