The forest didn't welcome us back.
It watched.
Branches cracked in the distance, the air felt wet with memory. Every shadow had teeth. But compared to the Realm of Lost Things? This place felt like a damn lullaby.
Antic let out a whoop behind me, arms stretched wide like he was hugging the night itself. "Ahhh, now this is the good kinda weird, ya feel me? The air's got bite. Smells like bark and trouble."
He kicked a stone and then immediately yelped, hopping on one foot.
"Ya good?" I asked.
"'Course I am," he winced. "Rock just decided it wanted a fight. Poor bastard didn't know who it was messin' with."
Dolly was trailing behind us, and unlike Antic, she hadn't made a sound since we left. But I could feel her.
Paranoia made of porcelain.
She stopped walking. Then, without warning—
CLANK.
Something small and sharp whizzed past my ear and slammed into a tree. A pin. A hairpin. The kind she kept tucked behind her cracked ear.
"Who's following us?!" she barked, voice sharp and ridiculous. "Don't lie—I smell memory rot!"
Antic raised both hands. "Nobody's followin' us, ya tiny teacup menace! We're the only idiots out here!"
Dolly narrowed her eyes. "Says the half-naked raccoon who doesn't know how to wear pants."
He looked offended. "These're combat overalls, thank ya kindly. Breathe better than silk and hug the thighs like destiny."
She hurled another pin. This one clipped his feathered ear. Antic yelped.
"OW! The hell was that for?!"
"Proximity," she hissed. "I don't like being flanked."
"You're the one who joined us!" he hollered. "Ain't my fault you caught feelin's back in creepytown!"
She stopped.
So did I.
There was a long silence, the kind that tasted like something about to snap.
Then she spun on her heels, her little boots cracking the soil like bones. "I did not catch feelings, you walking erection of a flute player. I got tricked. That forest... messed with me."
Antic threw up his hands. "Join the damn club, Dollface! I've been messed up since the day I learned my tail floats when I'm nervous!"
"I'm not Dollface," she spat.
"What is your name?" I asked.
Her head snapped toward me. Her jaw clenched like a bear trap.
I didn't blink.
"…I forgot," she muttered after a beat, like it physically pained her to admit it. "Whatever it was, it wasn't good enough. Don't call me nothin' 'til I say you can."
Antic sighed. "Fine. Anonymous Porcelain Threat it is."
"Say that again and I'll strangle you with your own combat overalls," she snapped.
I sat down.
Flat on the cold earth. Legs crossed. Hands resting on the dirt.
Antic looked over, still rubbing his ear. "We settin' up camp here? Not even scouted the perimeter—"
"I'm tired," I said. "This spot's good."
That was it.
Decision made.
He grumbled something under his breath, but dropped his pack with a thud.
The trees groaned above us. Dolly sat with her back to a rock and wrapped her arms around her knees. She didn't speak again, but she was watching. Always watching. Like we'd vanish the second she blinked.
Antic struck flint and got a fire going. It crackled like it wanted to argue with us. The flames reflected in my eyes even though I couldn't see them.
We didn't talk much after that. It wasn't quiet. It was… tense. Like everyone was holding in too many things and trying not to let them leak out where the others could see.
Eventually, Antic rolled onto his side, tugged his leaf-blanket up over his shoulder, and mumbled, "Night, No Eyes. Night, Porcelain Fury."
Dolly didn't answer.
I didn't either.
But I listened.
I could hear the way her porcelain joints clicked when she shifted. The faint scratch of her fingernail tapping a cracked spot on her arm.
She was scared.
That's all anger ever is.
I lay down.
The fire popped.
Somewhere in the woods, something screamed.
But not one of us moved.
We were still too tired to flinch.
I opened my eyes, and I couldn't tell if I'd slept at all.
The fire had died down. Just embers now—glowing like the ends of old cigars. The air was thick. Not fog. Not magic. Just heavy with knowing. Like the trees were eavesdropping again.
I sat up.
Antic snored like someone trying to charm a snake in his sleep. Dolly muttered a half-spoken threat in her sleep, something about "velvet gloves dipped in acid."
I stepped over a root and walked into the dark.
Not because I was pulled.
Not because I had to.
Because I needed to move.
Something in my legs didn't want stillness anymore. They wanted bark. They wanted to touch the ground.
I walked barefoot through pine needles and wet moss, branches brushing my arms like whispers. My fingers found the grooves of bark. I stopped beside a crooked tree and placed my palm against it.
It felt like skin. Wrinkled. Patient. Like it was trying to remember my name.
I didn't notice the crunch of twigs until it was too late.
"Hey—ya gonna keep walkin' till ya hit another realm or what?"
Antic's voice broke the hush, too loud. His boots crunched as he jogged to catch up, belt hanging loose, sleep in his eyes.
He stopped beside me, breathing heavy like he'd sprinted, though the camp wasn't far.
"I wasn't leaving," I said flatly.
"Didn't say ya were," he replied, scratching the back of his neck. "But y'look like someone who walks into danger real casual-like. Figured I'd ruin the aesthetic and tag along."
I didn't answer. I touched the bark again.
After a beat, he asked, "So… what gives? Bad dream?"
"No. I don't remember dreaming. But my fingers ached. Like I held something too tightly."
He stared at me.
I kept facing the tree.
"You say the weirdest shit sometimes, No Eyes."
"That's not my name."
"Still the only one I got," he said with a half-smile.
I turned to him. "Why did you come?"
Antic shrugged, hands in his pockets. "Needed an excuse not to lie on the ground all night listenin' to Her Highness grind her teeth."
"She does that?"
"Like a bear chewin' ceramic."
I tilted my head.
He looked at me. "...I'm jokin'. Mostly."
Another beat of silence. Then, I asked:
"If you wanted to leave, you could. You owe me nothing."
"Yeah, well…" he kicked at the moss, voice dropping a bit. "You make it hard to leave. Even when you say nothin'. That's a talent, by the way."
I stepped closer to the tree.
He followed, a little behind.
I reached up, touching a branch, fingers curling around it slowly. "The wood is warmer than the ground."
Antic tilted his head. "What?"
"This tree. It's warm."
He walked up beside me and touched it too. "Shit. You're right. Weird."
The bark under my hand felt like memory. I couldn't name it. But it wanted to be named.
I turned back to him. "You talk too much."
Antic blinked. Then laughed. "That's fair."
He stepped away, hands behind his head. Then spun once like he was trying to shake off something crawling down his spine. "You ever feel like the forest is just waiting for us to screw up?"
"Yes," I said.
Antic grinned. "Good. So it's not just me bein' paranoid."
I looked up, but saw nothing.
He glanced at me sideways. "Can't sleep, huh?"
"I don't like lying still. It feels like pretending to be dead."
That made him go quiet for a moment. Really quiet.
Then he muttered, "Huh. You're freaky. I like that."
I ignored him.
He rubbed his arm, eyes tracing the shadows between trees. "We should head back."
I nodded once. But didn't move.
Antic sighed. "...You want me to carry you or somethin'? Princess-style?"
"I'll kick you."
He grinned. "Kinky."
Then the branch under my fingers shifted. Not much. Just… leaned.
Like it knew me.
Antic noticed it too. He stared. "Did that tree just flirt with you?"
"No," I said. "It was saying goodnight."
I turned. Walked back toward the fire.
He hesitated before following, arms crossed. "Tell ya what. If a tree ever says good morning, I'm quittin' this journey and openin' a bakery."
"No one would buy your pastries."
"Oh now that's just rude."
SUNRISES
Birds chirp
I awoke to the sound of gnawing. Not chewing—gnawing. Like something had teeth it shouldn't have, and a vendetta against bark.
A rustle near my ear made me flinch. I sat up, deadpan and disoriented. Damp moss clung to my dress. A bug the size of a peach pit scuttled over my foot. I didn't scream. I just stared at it.
It stared back. Then keeled over. Possibly from guilt.
Across from me, Dolly was trying to bludgeon a mirror into standing up. She'd propped it against a stack of acorns and woven moss, but it kept sliding sideways like it was embarrassed by her reflection.
"Oh, for—stand, you fickle wretch," she growled, whacking it with a stick she'd sharpened into a baton. "I will not be outdone by woodland furniture."
Antic was upside down on a crooked tree limb, shirtless again, chewing on something suspiciously shiny. His legs dangled lazily, swaying like he was too relaxed to fall.
"You know we have no idea where we're goin', right?" he called down, voice thick with sleep and sarcasm. "Just aimless wanderin', us. Real quest material."
I rubbed my temples. "You said we were headed toward water."
"Well, I thought we were!" he said, flipping down in a slow arc. "Didn't know the forest had a sense of irony. Been smellin' waterfall since sunrise and ain't heard a damn splash."
"Maybe your nose is broken," I muttered.
Antic landed next to me with a grin so wide it could've been smug architecture. "Don't be jealous, No Eyes. Some of us were blessed with super-sensory sniffers. I got the honker of destiny."
Dolly snorted. "You've the nose of a drunken faun with a pollen addiction."
Antic blinked, looked suddenly cross-eyed, and wiped his nose.
Blood. Again.
"See?" Dolly pointed accusingly. "Even your face rejects your nonsense."
He groaned and flopped onto his back, one hand pressed to his face, the other dramatically outstretched. "Why does pain follow beauty so cruelly? Just lemme die right here, in the wet dirt, surrounded by the judgment of women."
I stood, smoothing the wrinkles from my dress. "You're not dying. You're just weak."
He perked up slightly. "That's... hot. Wait—no. I mean—no it's not. You're terrifying."
"Thank you."
"Not a compliment!"
Dolly was now painting one of her porcelain fingers with ash. She glanced up, sniffed, and declared, "There's river mist somewhere northeast. The breeze is flirting with it. Tastes like pine rot and wet limestone."
I blinked at her.
Antic blinked at her.
"You tasted the air?" I asked.
"It tasted me first," she snapped. "Move along."
He staggered upright, brushing leaf litter from his hips. "Alright, team sexy trauma, let's go find us a drinkable rock hole."
"River," I corrected.
"Right, yeah. That."
We set off. The forest groaned around us. Birds overhead chirped once, then fell silent, like they knew something we didn't.
Antic whistled tunelessly, fingers trailing along tree bark. Dolly stomped with the dignity of a queen crossing a battlefield. I moved quietly between them, listening to the breathing of the trees.
Something was different.
Stillness. Too much of it.
But we walked on.
The sound of the waterfall hit me first—sharp, rushing, too clean to be natural. Then the scent: wet stone, algae, life. My feet stilled before the clearing, toes curling into moss that felt like skin left out in the rain.
Dolly pushed past, one hand on her hip, the other swatting the air like it had personally offended her. "About damn time."
Antic was already halfway out of his overalls.
"Absolutely not," I said flatly.
"What?" he blinked innocently, the straps hanging off his hips. "They're wet from my own sweat, No Eyes. You wanna smell like a cooked mushroom all day, that's your business. I, for one, am gonna commune with nature—skin-first."
"Put that thing away, you absolute pond goblin!" Dolly shrieked from behind a boulder, one porcelain arm shielding her eyes.
Antic froze mid-strip, a twig very unhelpfully positioned as the only thing between us and a full frontal tragedy. "It's NATURAL!" he yelled defensively, steam rising from his chest as if his shame was boiling.
"You get nosebleeds from being told you're 'adequate,' and this is what embarrasses you?" I said, arms crossed.
He flushed. Hard. "T-That's different! It's the cold! Also your tone is very aggressive for someone who's technically naked under a glorified napkin."
I looked down at my dress. Ripped hem, dirt-stained, clinging in all the wrong places.
Still better than being that.
He waded in. A shimmering splash.
Dolly peeked and shrieked again. "I SWEAR TO THE PORCELAIN GODS IF I SEE ONE MORE ANGLE OF YOUR SPARKLY DING-A-LING I'M DROWNING US ALL."
Antic flailed, arms covering... not much. "SHUT UP, I'M UNDER STRESS!"
I sat on a smooth stone and removed my braid from its tie. The ends were knotted with bark. I'd started to feel... itchy. Inside my skin. The cold mist helped.
Antic resurfaced, hair slicked back like a deranged mermaid. "Come on, No Eyes," he called. "Don't be afraid of all this raw, unfiltered sex appeal."
"If I could see," I said, "I'd still choose blindness."
Dolly wheezed.
Antic clutched his chest. "So cruel. And yet—so hot. Why is this my type?"
He dove again. A splash. Then a pause.
The air shifted.
I stiffened. Something was coming.
Not the breeze. Not the current. Something in the shadow.
Then: a voice. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just low. Like a crack in the earth.
"…should've helped her more…"
Antic stopped splashing.
A tall figure stepped into the clearing from between two gnarled trees. Dressed in layers of black that hung like grief. Skin pale as wax. A smile carved across his face—awkward, like it didn't belong there.
Dolly dropped her comb. "Who the hell...?"