If I had known then what I know now, I never would have stepped into that forest.
If I had ignored the longing to escape—the deceptive serenity of it all—I wouldn't have lost everything.
I wouldn't have hurt the people I care about most.
I wouldn't have lost the ones I had grown to love.
I wouldn't have lost myself.
Burned by fire.
Drowned by my own hand.
Two years ago
I sat on my parents' back porch, gazing out at the dense forest. The rain drummed against the tin roof, creating my favorite kind of music—a rhythmic, soothing melody that filled the night. Mist rose from the wooden railing, curling around me like a cool embrace. I breathed in deeply, savoring the scent of damp earth and pine. I loved the rain. The way it smelled, the way it sounded, the way it felt against my skin. I could've stayed there for hours, lost in thought, but my brother's voice pulled me back. "Hey, Audra. Dad's calling you inside. You know what they say—stay in the rain too long and you'll catch a cold," Kai teased. I sighed, barely turning my head. "Oh, Kai. We both know that's an old wives' tale," I said, slightly amused. "I'll be in soon. I'm not ready yet." He scoffed, shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, and turned to leave. "Dinner's almost ready, so don't stay out too long," he said before heading back inside. The old wooden screen door creaked shut behind him. I lingered, my eyes tracing the darkened silhouettes of the trees. What would it be like to be one of the creatures that lived among them? To run wild and free, untethered from responsibility or worry? I sighed, knowing I'd have to return to reality soon. As I pushed myself up from the swing, a rustling sound came from the tree line. My head snapped toward it.
A wolf.
Not just any wolf—a breathtaking one, its fur a mix of white and speckled tan. Its fierce golden eyes locked onto mine, holding me captive in their intensity. My heart skipped. My stomach fluttered. I shook it off and watched the wolf. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished into the trees. A strange sense of loss settled in my chest, but I ignored it and turned toward the house. As I opened the door, the distinct scent of burnt food filled my nostrils. I sighed, following the smoky trail to the kitchen. "Hey, Dad, what did you burn this time?" I teased, leaning against the counter. He gave me a sheepish look and held up a pot of charred food that was well past recognition. "Sweetie, tonight's special is burnt tacos… with a side of charred rice." Kai chuckled as he took the pan from Dad and scraped the ruined rice into the trash. "Dad, you need serious help in the kitchen." I laughed. "He's not wrong." Dad raised a brow at me. "Maybe instead of staring off into space, you could give your old man a few pointers?" I hesitated. "I could, but… cooking was Mom's thing." My voice wavered. "And, well, you know. I could never be as good as her." The air in the room grew heavy. Silence settled between us like an unspoken grief. Kai cleared his throat. "You know, Audra, you should teach Dad anyway. That way, when we visit Mom, we can bring her some real food. Lord knows the kind of stuff they serve in that hospital." Dad nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. "He's right. She'd love that." I swallowed the lump in my throat and got to work. I measured out fresh rice and set it to cook while Dad watched over the beef. Together, we salvaged dinner. By 8 p.m., we were all sitting down to eat. "So, Audra," Dad said, taking a sip of his beer, "how's school going?" I finished chewing before answering. "It's fine. We have a check mark test next Tuesday in biology." I picked up some food with my fork, shoving it around the plate. "What's a check mark?" he asked. "It's the test they do at the beginning of the school year to see what you already know." He nodded. "Good thing we moved here over the summer then. I wouldn't want you to fall behind." He pointed his fork at me, waving it as he talked. "I know," I said, nodding as I finally took a bite. He turned to Kai. "Any luck with the job hunt?" Kai's jaw tensed. "Not yet," he gritted out.
Kai had graduated high school last year with a full ride to our state's top law school. Everything had been set—until Mom got sick. We had to drop everything and move out of the country to see a specialist here, in our new home, Vaeloria—in the rainy town of Corentin. Eight months of endless downpours and cold. No one could pinpoint exactly what was wrong with her, but at least the doctors here had stabilized her condition. I pushed my food around my plate, my appetite fading. The rest of dinner passed in quiet conversation. Kai helped Dad with cleanup, and I excused myself to go upstairs and finish my homework. I wasn't a straight-A student, but I wasn't failing either. I had just started my junior year. It was supposed to be when I figured out my future—but ever since the move, everything had been uncertain. Back home, I had a plan. Jackie—my best friend—and I were going to attend the same college. She wanted to study culinary arts, and I was going for a business degree so we could open a bakery and coffee shop together. But now? That dream felt distant. Almost impossible. I sighed and pushed the thoughts away, focusing on my assignments. By the time I finished, it was 10 p.m. I stretched and glanced out my window. The sky was pitch black. The moon was nowhere to be seen. My room had the best view in the house. The bay window overlooked the back deck and stretched out toward the endless forest. It was my favorite spot to read—or just sit and watch the wildlife. Deer, bears, wolves, and countless smaller creatures made their home in those trees. And yet… something about the forest tonight felt different. Like it was calling to me.
Beckoning me toward something unknown.
Without thinking, I stood and crept downstairs. The house was silent—Dad was probably asleep, and Kai had already retreated to his room. I slipped past their doors and into the mudroom, pulling on my boots and parka. Grabbing a flashlight and a small pocketknife, I carefully eased open the back door. It groaned softly in protest. The early September air hit me like a cold slap, sending a shiver down my spine. My breath curled in the crisp night as I stepped onto the porch, carefully avoiding the creaky boards before heading toward the trees. The deeper I went, the quieter the world became. The soft hum of our small suburban neighborhood faded into nothing. I switched on my flashlight and followed the path I'd marked, my boots leaving shallow imprints in the damp earth. A soft hoot from an owl echoed through the trees. I didn't know why I kept coming back here.
Maybe it was the tranquility.
Maybe it was something deeper.
About fifteen minutes later, I reached my clearing—a hidden sanctuary I'd stumbled upon weeks ago. I had built a small shelter of rocks to store my supplies, keeping them safe from the elements. Pulling out my blanket and bag, I settled down, resting my head against the makeshift pillow. Above me, the stars peeked through the shifting clouds. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and rain-soaked earth. I closed my eyes, letting the forest lull me into a light sleep. And somewhere, beyond the edge of my consciousness…
golden eyes watched from the darkness.