When morning finally came, it did not feel like it. The light found its way into the clearing in thin, reluctant shafts, squeezed between branches that seemed to have grown closer throughout the night. The air was heavy, thick enough that each breath felt like drinking something lukewarm and heavy. My eyes burn, I didn't manage to sleep a wink throughout the night, just the darkness to keep me company.
The shapes never stopped stirring, always skulking at the edges of my vision slipping between the trunks and branches beyond. Always moving to where the torch could not cast them. Whenever I blinked they seemed closer, when I focused they vanished.
Now the fire is nothing but embers, the cold claiming victory over my body, without the protection of flame. Athea announces to the camp we will be moving out within the hour, Rell objects and asks for more sleep.
Around me students drag themselves from bedrolls and tents. No one talks, no one laughs. They move with the sluggishness of people who'd slept poorly, and dreamt worse.
Lucien's group begin to to argue, apparently one of them was supposed to keep watch and keep the fire going, Marrek Dune kicks the ashes while cursing, the ash sticks to his clothing and boot. Apparently Marrek himself was supposed to watch the fire, and now he's sulking because no one woke him up to check the fire.
''No one could wake you up you buffoon, you were snoring loud enough to scare the beasts back into their dens.'' He spoke with the sharpness he reserves for speeches and mockery. A couple of people forced out thin laughs, but they died quickly.
''Please tell me you slept last night.'' Rell says, yawing while walking towards me his hair scuffed.
''No, I couldn't. But it looks like you had no problems.'' I replied.
''Let me guess, the shadows and shapes beyond the perimeter?'' He asks. I nod.
''Fantastic, love that for us.'' He replied groggily.
I look towards our cluster of tents when I spot Seras emerging, her hair braided back for practicality, the shadows beneath her eyes make an appearance and the skin around her fingers looked raw, like sat holding something too hot for too long. She flexes her hands and forces them still. Determination set on her face. She gazes over the camp until her eyes set on me, she gives a slight nod, turns away to check the straps on her bag.
Thorne was rolling up his bed roll with precise heavy movements. He pauses occasionally to press his palm to the earthy floor. His brow furrowed more each time he did it. While Lira and Ellis are once again checking the spirals grown onto the tree, the question of how still burning into their minds.
No one had slept well, I didn't sleep at all.
Instructor Athea moves around the camp like a blade, checking gear and straps and offering no reassurances. She didn't snap, or bark. She didn't need to, her silence was sharp enough. When she reaches our side of the clearing, she pauses by Orien to discuss direction. Apparently there's a ridge with a vantage point due east.
The Beasthold scouts head out first, checking the terrain and making sure there's nothing nasty to meet us. We start walking, nervous of the next chapter of the forest. What could be waiting for us? What were the shapes?
As we walked through the trail east, the trees seemed to be closer now, branches interlaced overhead in the dense canopy, letting even less light through than previously. The sound didn't seem to carry correctly. Our footsteps, the clink of gear and the occasional nervous cough, all felt muffled, as though wrapped in cough.
I walk in the centre of the group, as instructed.
No one spoke at first, the further we walked, the tighter my chest became. It wasn't exhaustion, I still feel alert, almost invigorated. The space around me felt smaller with each step. Behind us, someone tripped. Swearing on the way down.
''If you lifted your feet, you would not fall.'' Kaelin said, smirking.
''If the ground stopped trying to drag my ankles, I wouldn't of fallen.'' Marrek replies.
''It's a forest, not a maze," Lucien muttered, but even he didn't sound convinced.
''How do you know you bastard, did you ask it.'' Kaelin says.
Instructor Athea shuts the group up, finger to her lips and eyes shooting daggers. The Forest grew silent once more.
The trees all look the same, nothing distinctive about it. How would we make our way back? Tall trees with thick trunks marked with the same spirals meet our give with every tree we pass, thick undergrowth and dried out leaves should have crunched under our weight, but they did not. We pass a large stump, one that seems to sink into the floor of the forest. Just like the other two we have passed. Is it the same one? As I glanced back, checking our path the route was obstructed. Swallowed by shadows and branches with no way back.
My skin prickles and ice drips down my spine as I spot another stump. Sinking in the exact same way and once again, our path behind us is obscured. ''Rell.'' I whisper.
''What is it my little forest ghost.'' He replies, tilting his head towards me but keeping his eyes on the trees.
''That stump…'' I say.
''Fourth time, I've been counting. And I'm sure some of the others notice too.'' He replies.
Up ahead, Lira slows to check the patterns of the trees once more, squinting between the barks of separate trees. Brushing her fingers over them. ''These patterns repeat, same growth spirals, same indentations and same fucking tree stump accompaying them.'' She says angrily. Ellis tries to observe and asks if she is certain to which Lira looks her in the eye, inviting her to an argument she knows she will win.
Thorne walks ahead, brushing his hands over the bark and the branches. His eyes closed and focused. ''They are the same, the trees I mean. They are but one tree. Sprouted over and over again. The tension in the group seems to grow with each bit of information uncovered. Instructor Athea and Orien insist that we keep moving, that they are just coincidences, nothing more.
After some time following our own footsteps, we halt. A change, a small one but a change in the trees. A small clearing opens up to our left, small. Flat and ringed with the same spiralled trees. It looks… like our camp. From this morning.
The Beasthold members who were walking ahead of us decided to check out the clearing, to make sure it's safe before we move. I find Seras has moved closer to me and Rell, along with Thorne. We observe the Hunters and wait for any sign. Something tells me whatever this is, it's only the beginning. Marrek and Kaelin begin to argue again about the clearing and whether or not it's the same one.
''It's the same type of clearing, not the one we camped at. Idiot. There are differences. Like the angle of that slope, the branches over there.''
''Well it all looks the exact same to me, and yes I'm panicking but at least I admit it.'' Replies Marrek.
A low tangle of voices begin to spread out between the group, some insisting that we are fine, nothing is wrong and forests do this all the time. Some, replying with nothing about this is normal. Which I agree with.
Once the Beasthold finished up their investigations and gave the all clear, we were asked what we wanted to do. Rest here or keep moving. The majority voted to keep moving.
Lucien strolled alone, tapping his golden belt of pride. His usual easy grin was gone, replaced by a tight-lipped scowl.
''We must keep pushing through.'' He says. ''If we hesitate, we give the forest more time to toy with us.''
''It is not as dangerous as some of these people are making out, they are merely old trees. Strange trees. But trees nonetheless, fear even makes cowards of the rest.''
''Fear also keeps the best alive, sit down Solbrax.'' Instructor Athea barked.
Lucien stiffens at the use of his surname, for a heartbeat he smirks. A reminder of the view he has at the top of the society.
The forest seems to grow more agitated the more we march through it, like a rodent unwelcome in the kitchen. I could not feel its displeasure, not directly but I feel it in the way the air thickens when we need rest the most. The way the eyes follow our every step, we are trespassers. When will they defend their land?
A branch snaps in the dark undergrowth beside the trees, too loud to be anything else but an unwelcome bystander. Instructor Athea drops to a crouch and signs for us to do the same, her hand rests atop her pommel on her blade. Ready. I follow her gaze, the only sight that graces my eyesight is the same foliage we have memorised the past god knows how long we've been walking. Then, in the far distance ahead of us. Two pale glints rise, eyes.
Too high to be any known beast in this forest, at least 12ft tall. They blink, and like a signal more appear. Lower down. Close to the floor, followed by a third pair. A fourth. I lose count at 12 as the group seem to prepare for danger, I along with a few of the scholars whose Lightscar abilities don't include any aptitude for combat hide in the middle of the help.
Instructor Athea stands and straightens slowly, her hand releasing the pommel of her weapon, she tells us to avoid the eyes, look past them if we must but remain calm. Just walk. Lucien laughs sharply.
''Afraid of shadows are we, we've faced worse.''
''Not here.'' Seras whispers.
Lucien turns towards her. ''You are Wrath, Doirneach. You of all people should not…''
''I said, not. Here.'' she fumed.
Something in her tone makes Lucien falter, Seras earning a nod of appreciation from the Instructor and the rest of the faculty, she lowers her hair, pretending not to care. After walking with caution, that felt like forever the eyes vanished, like darkness at dawn.
Another clearing makes an appearance. No one bats an eye lid when Instructor Athea orders us to rest and set up camp. I think we're just happy to stop walking around in circles, a cruel trick from the forest, a question still bothers me. One that not one person has asked yet. If we're stuck, how do we leave?
Small arguments seem to flare as we set up our tents and fires for the evening, small sharp ones. Like who will be taking watch and who sleeps near who. Childish arguments. No one really cared about the answers, they just needed to vent their fear somewhere and each other was their closest outlet.
I keep my head down, hands working while helping Orien secure his bedroll, set up his tent and fetch some firewood to keep him warm. He hasn't said much during the trip, I think it must be hard on his old bones.
''The forest is squeezing them, making enemies out of friends.'' Orien whispers, so low I almost thought I imagined it.
''We must not dwell on what is beyond the tree lines, but on our group, our safety. Stay close to your friends my boy, I have a feeling you will need them.'' Orien says as he gulps down his waterskin. I leave him with a smile. Friends? When we get back to Crownspire nothing will change, so i'll make the most of this expedition while I can with my… friends.
Athea walked the perimeter again. I watched her as she moved, her steps precise, her shoulders set. Even she seemed narrower, as if the trees were pushing inward on her too. Rell flopped down beside me near the fire, arms resting on his knees
"Remind me to never step foot in this place again once we get out," he said.
"You are assuming we will." I replied.
He shot me a look with wide eyes. "You are not helping."
"My apologies," I said.
He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "They are all coming apart," he murmured, nodding subtly toward the cluster of students. "Look at them. Snapping like thin branches. I counted six separate arguments over nothing in the last hour alone."
"The forest is affecting them," I said.
He glanced at me. "Not you?"
"It feels… the same as always," I said slowly. "Just louder. Closer."
He let out a low breath. "Of course it does. Why would you ever get the normal problems?" and smiles sincerely at me.
Seras and Thorne join us, baking in the heat of the fire. Seras' hands near the flames but not too close, her eyes were fixed on the tree line. Whenever someone spoke or raised their voice, she flinched. Barely but enough to notice to worry. Thorne, or what Rell has started to call him. The mountain of Greed. Sits beside me, quiet but present. I hear he's excellent with weapons from what Instructor Athea mentioned earlier, praising him. His horde is vast apparently. His fingers press into the log we use as seating, eyes half lidded trying to feel the air, the ground and the trees. He exhales and bows his head.
''The roots are tangled, pulled so tight around each other they might snap. It's in pain, and us being here seems to agitate it for some reason.''
''So to escape we must provide therapy for the forest? Great, another thing ticked from my bucket list.'' Rell jokes, Thorne only looks with saddened eyes. Like he feels the weight of the forest. And from there we rest. As much as the forest allows us to.