The forest was heavy with silence. Not the natural hush of night, but a suffocating stillness that made even the leaves seem unwilling to stir.
Uther's boots sank into damp earth as he pushed deeper, his heart hammering despite the calm mask on his face.
The shadows clung to him, thick as tar, until the faint silver of moonlight was swallowed whole.
He stopped when he reached the clearing, the place no one dared venture, not even the wolves of the pack.
It was where the trees grew twisted, their branches bent like clawed hands, and the air smelled faintly of ash though no fire had ever touched it.
It was also a place where only he had been assigned to venture.
Drawing a shaky breath, he whispered her name.
"Princess Cherry."
There was a stilled silence for about five minutes, soon he began to worry if she had even gotten the call.
Then the forest responded.
