How long had she been hiding in the hollow?
How long since her mother's bated breath, since her warm embrace kept the dark at bay and made the cold bearable, made her feel safe?
Too long.
Long enough for the fear to dull into ache, for the silence to start whispering things she didn't want to hear.
Long enough for her to flinch at every bug, every distant howl.
Her father's coat was heavy now, soaked through from the river's spray. Every time she shifted, droplets slid down her bare legs and pooled beneath her feet.
The smell of damp wool and earth clinging to her like a shroud.
Yet, she didn't move.
Didn't dare.
The world outside the hollow still breathed… slow, steady, the forest vast and alive. The occasional rustle of leaves, the creak of wood under weight not her own stirred something within.
Artoria hugged her knees tighter, her small hands pulling the coat's fabric all around, ignoring the dampness.
She wanted to call out.
To ask if it was safe.
If her mother was coming back.
But she knew better, the forest wouldn't respond.
Only the bitter wind spoke, carrying with it a distant groan, or a growl, she wasn't too sure.
Nevertheless, her eyes grew heavy, the edges of her world softening until even the cold seemed far away.
The forest's ambience, the distant drip of water or perhaps the lazy whisper of the bitter wind, lulled her into a deep sleep.
Her head tilted forward, cheek pressed to the coat that smelled faintly of home, and for a moment, she could almost pretend it was her mother's lap again.
That nothing had happened.
That when she opened her eyes, morning would come, and mother would brush her hair straight..
But it didn't.
Instead, the hollow all around her stretched, the roots curling like fingers. The river nearby ran red, sluggish and thick, its surface gleaming under a moon too large, too close.
She heard her father's voice, or what was left of it, calling from far beyond the trees.
He sounded wrong.
Hollow and empty.
It came from everywhere and nowhere, echoing through her ribs like it was trapped inside her chest, pumping through her heart as if it came from within her very being
Then came the footsteps.
Slow. Heavy.
Each one sinking into her mind like a nail.
The trees shuddered, as their shadows gathered, pulling together until they formed a shape she knew… tall, broad, with horns like broken branches and a skull for a face.
The brute her mother lured away.
Its empty sockets burned faintly, a deep, feverish red.
Artoria tried to scream, but the air wouldn't come.
Her tiny hands clawed at the coat, pulling it tight, as if she could hide within its folds forever.
Then the skull bent low.
And through the dark, she saw not blood, not bone, but eyes.
Her mother's eyes.
It reached out.
Then Artoria woke, choking on her own breath, the taste of iron and copper fresh on her tongue.
She'd bitten it, hard.
"I'm sorry…" she whimpered, clutching the coat tighter, as if it could shield her from the night pressing in.
Her heartbeat wouldn't slow.
The hollow seemed smaller now, closing in with every shuddered inhale. The world beyond it felt heavier, older, like it knew she was awake.
Psst-
Someone echoed, not her mother, nor the forest.
She couldn't know how to describe them… they felt like still water and cold steel, but familiar in a way she couldn't yet name.
Calm, child.
Her breath caught.
You'll make it through this.
The voice was quiet, low, and calm.
It resonated somewhere behind her thoughts, rippling through her bones.
Artoria froze, tears trembling on her lashes.
"…Who…?" she whispered, though no sound came out right.
There will be time for questions later, the voice continued, softer now, for now, breathe.
She obeyed before realizing it, letting out a shaky inhale, then another.
Good. Again.
The weight in her chest loosened, just enough to let the air in. The coat no longer felt suffocating, just… grounding.
And though her world was still dark, though the wind still moaned between the roots, she could almost feel a hand rest against her shoulder, steadying her.
You are not alone.
And though they had more to say, even she could tell that, they didn't finish.
They were cut short, leaving behind a silence entirely unnatural.
"Wait," Artoria whispered, looking around the hollow, her voice small and hoarse. "Please… say something else."
But there was no reply.
Only the whisper of water against stone and the faint rattle of leaves outside.
So she stayed there, clutching the coat like an anchor, staring into the dark. Every so often she whispered into it... questions, pleas, half-formed thoughts.
"Who are you?"
"Why me?"
"Are you still there?"
Yet, nothing answered.
Her eyes grew heavy once more, but fear kept them open.
She was afraid that if she slept again, she'd see the eyes or worse, that the voice would fade entirely.
Hours passed like that.
The forest lived around her, a fox's distant cry, the steady tumble of the river, the howls of beasts far far away.
All of it blurred together until,
Light.
A thin gold thread slipped through the cracks of the roots, touching her cheek.
Then another.
Artoria blinked, her lashes stiff with dried tears and cheeks crusted with dirt as at last, the sun had come for her.
Slowly, she rose from the hollow, the coat dragging through the damp earth. Her legs trembled, her stomach hollowed by hunger, but she stood all the same.
The voice did not return.
Not even a sigh, nor breath.
But still, she looked once over her shoulder, into the hollow, and whispered.
"…I'll find you."
Then, with the morning light catching her tangled hair, Artoria stepped out into the forest.
/////////
Where am I?
She'd been walking for goddess knows how long, and she swore she'd seen that very same tree four times already.
The tree in question had a trunk twisted at an awkward angle, its bark dark and slick with moss. Every time she thought she'd gone past it, she ended up it again, its roots twisting in a snarl as if it were laughing at her.
Her stomach grumbled.
Her legs ached.
Every step made her question whether the forest even had an end.
The coat hung heavy on her shoulders, dragging her down. The smell of damp wool and the faint trace of blood lingered in her hair and over her sleeves.
I can't keep doing this.
I need… I need to find someone.
Anyone, just not that monster.
A rustle caught her attention, and she froze... was it just the wind, or something else?
Her pulse leapt into the hundreds, her heartbeat hammering at her skull with each passing moment. The forest seemed to press closer, and the ground underfoot felt soft, almost giving, as though it were trying to swallow her whole.
She shook her head.
No. I can't think like that
I have to… keep moving.
The sun had climbed higher now, streaking through the canopy in sharp, golden knives. It didn't make the forest any less foreboding, but it gave her hope, that was good, right?
Hope that someone, anyone really, must be out here.
And with that thought, she forced one foot in front of the other, ignoring the ache, ignoring the hunger, ignoring the figures just beyond her peripheral vision.
She'd been walking for what felt like forever.
Maybe an hour.
Maybe more.
The trees started to thin, their broken canopies and sparse roots finally allowing her to see and walk unobstructed, without the risk of tripping on some unseen underbrush. The air smelled different too, less stale and more repulsive, like something left to rot for days on end.
Then, she saw it.
At first she thought yet another hunger-induced illusion, she's had plenty of those, but no, it was real.
Walls, roofs, a porch rotted with age and decay.
A cabin.
It sat crooked on a mound, half of the roof caved in as if eating itself whole. The floorboards had long since darkened, swollen and splintered where rain soaked in. Moss clung to the corners, and ivy crawled up one side, rapidly overtaking whatever varnish had remained.
But she didn't mind, as for the first time since the hollow, she saw something human.
Something made.
Artoria hesitated at the edge of the clearing, clutching the coat close around her shoulders. The thought of shelter was luring her in like a bear to honey, but…
The smell was rather disgusting.
Still, she moved forwards.
One step.
Then another.
And as she drew closer, the wind shoved through the loose boards, and a section of the wall gave way, crashing to the ground and splintering into a thousand pieces.
She yelped, stumbling back as the noise tore through the silence, heart hammering in her throat.
The girl stood there for a moment, catching her breath as she watched dust rise where the wall had fallen.
The sound still echoed faintly in her ears.
After a deep breath, she stepped forward again. The door hung half off its hinges, one good push, and it groaned open.
Inside, the air was stale.
Old, with the faint smell of decay.
A table leaned tiredly against the far wall, a single chair still upright beside it. Tools lay scattered across the floor... a broken hammer, a rusted chisel, something that might've been a lantern once.
"It… looks a little like grandpa' house," Artoria murmured, tracing her tiny fingers along the dusty frame of the doorway.
She took another step in, her small boots creaking on the warped planks, and for a moment she could almost see them here... Grandpa by the fire, Mum setting the kettle to boil... until the image faded, leaving only that damned smell.
She pressed her lips together, scanning the room again.
"There's gotta be… something," she muttered under her breath.
She needed food, and while she may have survived for weeks without any, she didn't exactly know that.
The shelves along the wall leaned dangerously, one of them bowed in the middle from time.
Still, she dragged the rickety chair closer and climbed up onto it, the wood groaning beneath her weight, however light she was.
Dust puffed up into her face as she brushed a hand along the nearest shelf. Jars with cloudy glass, and lids rusted shut. She pried one open and instantly recoiled, gagging at the smell that hit her.
"Ugh... nope, that's dead. Very dead."
The rest wasn't much better... mold, cobwebs, something that might've been jam a century ago.
But then, tucked into the corner behind a cracked bowl, she spotted a small fabric bag. Her fingers trembled as she pulled it free, shaking loose a puff of dust. Inside were a few rough strips of something dark red, dry, and smelling faintly of seasoning.
"...Salmon?" she whispered, blinking.
She lifted one piece to her nose, sniffed again. It wasn't spoiled.
Not fresh, but not spoiled either.
"I... hm... I'll take it," she decided quickly, clutching the little bag like it was treasure. "Thank you, oldie... I owe you one."
Her voice wavered somewhere between a laugh and sobs. She stepped down from the chair carefully, the floorboards creaking in answer, and for the first time since she'd arrived in this forest.
She didn't feel completely alone.
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Alright! I'm starting college tomorrow, so I won't be able to post everyday like I originally wanted to- however, new chapters will be posted every Monday and Thursday.
How is the pace, by the way? I don't want it too slow least it gets boring nor too short that it feels like she skimmed over that trauma