I didn't remember falling asleep, which was funny, because I definitely remembered how much I didn't trust that tree. But there I was, eyes open, body aching, face probably still caked with forest dirt and existential dread, staring into the dark sky infront. while my brain tried to piece together how long I'd been laying around like this.
And there it was. Still. The tree. My lovely, loyal stalker.
The word Remember was still carved into its trunk, and it still stared at me like I owed it money and answers. I dragged a hand down my face, more exhausted now than I'd been when I passed out. Or blacked out.
Or dissociated so hard I looped into a power nap. Who knew? Not me.
"Cool," I muttered. "Trauma-induced forest naps. My favorite." I rubbed the back of my neck, still sore from where nature had sucker-punched me yesterday, and stood.
The tree stood too. Okay, not literally, but it might as well have. Because when I stood, it was closer than it had been before. Just a few steps. Nothing dramatic. Like it was being casual about the haunting now.
I squinted at it. "You're really committed to the bit, huh?" No response. Just bark and that one word staring back at me like it had a personal vendetta against my peace of mind. Fine. I could deal with this. I was used to being confused. I started walking again, deeper into the forest, assuming I had some kind of direction.
And still, I felt it. That tug in the corner of my thoughts. Remember.
It gnawed at me like a splinter in my brain, not quite pain but definitely not comfortable. The kind of feeling that made your fingers twitch and your thoughts spiral. I don't know how long I walked. Minutes? Hours? Days, maybe, in metaphor years. I didn't even realize I wasn't leading anymore. At some point, the tree had become the one ahead of me.
I paused. I don't mean I paused like I hesitated or got distracted, I mean my whole body stopped without me telling it to. Like something in me finally noticed something was off.
And the tree, yeah, that tree, was standing a few steps in front of me. Facing away. Or, however trees face.
The hell? I blinked. And it moved. Not walked. Not shuffled. It was just.. farther ahead now. A few feet. Same casual pace. Like it had turned around to see if I was following, gotten bored, and kept going. I stood there, mouth slightly open, trying to figure out if I'd finally cracked completely.
I mean, sure, the haunted tree thing had been weird before, but this was new. This was the tree taking initiative. Being polite about its possession of my soul. "You've gotta be kidding me," I muttered. "Am I following a tree? Am I really-"
It moved again. I didn't see it move. I never saw it move. But like a badly edited scene in a low-budget horror film, it was just..there. Closer to the next cluster of trees. A little deeper into the forest.
"Okay," I said out loud, mostly to the lingering echoes of my sanity. "I guess we're doing this." And I followed. Because why not?
Was it a mistake? Probably. But so was trusting Ezekiel. So was not punching him when I had the chance for not giving me any heads up about this damn forest. So I walked.
The tree didn't move much at first. It kept its lead small, like it knew I didn't like being left behind. Maybe that should've freaked me out. Okay, it did freak me out, but we were way past the point of healthy boundaries. I'd named it in my head at this point. Bernard. The tree's name was Bernard. We didn't talk. Obviously. But I think he knew I was trying not to scream internally.
After what felt like forever, but was probably like, forty minutes, I started seeing lights. Tiny ones at first, flickering like dying fireflies in the distance. I blinked. Rubbed my eyes. Kept walking. And yeah, they were real. Lanterns. Lamps. Warm glows tucked between trees, like the forest had teeth and this was the flickering light between them.
Eventually, I heard the faint sound of voices. Not real voices, more like the echo of life. Plates clinking. Dogs barking. The kind of sounds you forget you miss until they creep into your ears and make your chest ache.
A village. There was an actual village on the edge of the forest. And Bernard had led me straight to it. I stopped just before the final trees thinned out, the soft lights of the village glowing warm and golden in the distance.
There were people. Actual people. Not illusions. Not echoes. People with homes and dinner and probably emotional stability. They seemed to have a festival of some kind, seeing how some children were dressed in cute dresses and suits, and how some teenagers around my age hung out with their friends in groups going from stand to stand.
I stared for a moment, then turned around.
The tree was right behind me again. Just standing there like he'd done nothing weird this whole time. Like this wasn't a first date that involved stalking, haunting, and psychic guilt trips. I scratched the back of my neck, suddenly feeling… awkward. Weirdly guilty.
"Okay," I started, rocking on my heels. "So… I might've misjudged you."
No response. Obviously.
"I mean, you did stalk me. And probably traumatized me a little. Maybe a lot." I waved vaguely toward the forest. "But like… you also led me here. To… whatever here is."
The tree continued being a tree. I looked away, kicking at a rock. "Look, I'm not good at this. Apologies. Gratitude. Emotional openness. None of it. But if you, if this was your way of helping… I don't know. Thanks, I guess?"
Still nothing.
I cleared my throat. "I'd dab you up or something but…" I looked at Bernard. "…you don't have hands." There was a long pause. I stared at the bark like it might react. Nod. Glow. Whisper secrets. Something.
It didn't. But I swear, if trees could smirk, this one would've.
I turned back toward the village, heart still thudding a little too fast in my chest. Something about this place didn't feel real. But it also didn't feel wrong. And that was enough, for now.
I looked over my shoulder one last time. The tree wasn't there anymore.
Of course. "Classic Bernard," I muttered, slinging my bag over my shoulder. And with that, I stepped out of the woods and into the unknown.