Today, Aya Geiger ran away from home, frustrated because her older brother had broken a promise.
The girl wandered along the forest path behind her house, throwing stones at birds in the trees like the mischievous child from the fairy tales she'd read, then took shelter in a cave when the rain suddenly poured down.
"I'm cursed." The girl grumbled, squatting with her lips pouted. She stared at the rain outside while activating the heater in her jacket. "I'm seriously cursed!"
The problem was, Aya had sworn not to cry. So even as her eyes glistened fiercely and drops like ocean waves fell, her lips remained curved upward without a single sob. Then she thought, "I don't get it. Kyle said he had to go hunting so we could have meat today. So why isn't he back yet? Did he end up as food for wild dogs?"
She picked up a stray twig and began scratching the damp cave floor with it. "No. Impossible. If that really happened, then those wild dogs must be cannibals. I hope Kyle didn't run into cannibal wild dogs."
And so Aya continued muttering to herself as if complaining to no one in particular. She realized her throat was dry once the rain stopped and her water bottle was empty. Lamenting her misfortune one more time—"I'm cursed!"—she stepped out of the cave.
A light drizzle fell, tiny droplets drifting gently. The girl tilted her head back, stuck out her tongue, and closed her eyes, savoring the sensation of the small raindrops hitting the roof of her mouth. She giggled at the ticklish feeling, blinking repeatedly with narrowed eyes until she spotted a silhouette in the trees—no, a pair of silhouettes. She paused, realizing they were two squirrels scurrying back to their nest, their mouths stuffed with seeds after waiting out the rain.
Aya's gaze lingered as they disappeared into their home. And just like that, she was reminded again of how lonely she was on her birthday. She stared at the squirrels' nest with a wrinkled chin, though all she could see clearly was the tree trunk—she wasn't in a good position to get a proper look.
"Hey, squirrels! Are you happy to have each other?"
She let her shout hang in the forest air, as if giving the squirrels time to answer.
"Me? I don't have any friends!"
She continued after nearly a minute of silence. "Whoever's listening, I don't need blessings. All I need is one friend. Just like those two squirrels in their nest."
Then she turned away. She walked straight toward the lake without any intention of looking back. At that moment, she thought, "I've been angry long enough. Maybe I should just sleep. That damn Kyle can still take a punch when he gets back."
She opened her water bottle without paying much attention to her surroundings, filling it with the clear lake water like she always did—until she heard a rustling from the branches stretching over the opposite shore. When Aya focused, she was startled to see a squirrel falling into the water.
"Oh no!" Without thinking, she jumped in panic—only to then see the squirrel struggling to swim ashore, crawling onto what appeared to be… a human body, lying motionless on the other side of the lake.
No mistake.
A human!
"Huh?" Aya rubbed her eyes. "What the—?" She thought again, "Am I seeing things? Is that just a log, or am I hallucinating?"
But no matter how much she rubbed her eyes until they turned red and stung, the foreign object remained undeniably human—dressed in a white shirt and long black pants, though barefoot.
"A human!" Aya gasped, stepping back and covering her mouth. "A-a real human!"
The girl hurried out of the water, abandoning her bottle to rush around the lake toward the stranded figure. Despite her initial boldness, she suddenly realized her actions were just impulsive excitement. The thing was—*oh god*—in all her twelve years of life, Aya had only ever met two humans, and both were equally annoying. So when she saw another human for the first time—even if unconscious and unidentified—she couldn't help but act like she'd just discovered a new species.
She snapped off a low-hanging branch and used it to poke the boy's body.
"H-hi…" Aya blinked. "Can you hear me?"
No response. She tried again. "Are you unconscious?"
When her second question also went unanswered, Aya's attention shifted to his hair—dark as midnight.
She thought, "How can a human's hair be that black?"
Aya herself had shoulder-length blonde hair and striking golden eyes, a stark contrast to the boy. With this realization, another question popped into her head: "Will your eyes be as pretty as your hair?"
She leaned in, daring to reach out—only to yank her hand back in shock. His cheek was freezing. The cold jolt snapped her into full awareness, forcing her to think rationally about where this boy could have come from. Questions flooded her mind:
"Wait, how did this boy even get here?
My house is in the middle of a forest. A forest surrounded by thick trees, bordered by a wire fence with barbed tops that can burn a bird to a crisp with just a light touch. In my twelve years living here, I've never once stepped beyond that fence. No matter how far I wander, the only thing waiting for me at the edge is that damn fence. There's no way in or out of this place. So where did he come from?"
Her dull intuition screamed that this was wrong—abnormal, eerie, something to avoid for her own safety. So, guided by common sense, Aya turned and ran home without looking back, even as guilt gnawed at her heart.
At one point, she remembered the wish she'd made just before finding the boy:
"Whoever's listening, I don't need blessings. All I need is one friend. Just like those two squirrels in their nest."
The guilt hit her hard. She stumbled in the muddy ground, then thought, "Ah, I was the one who prayed for a friend. Why am I running away just because I'm scared?"
Yet, she still didn't look back. She dragged her aching, scraped legs all the way home until she reached the porch—where a pair of boots sat neatly.
Kyle was back.