She woke in the lavender.
Not beside it. Not under it. Right in the middle of it, like someone had tucked her into a bed made of petals and forgotten to say good morning.
The first thing she noticed was the smell. Sweet, sleepy, a little dusty in a way that made her nose wrinkle. The second thing she noticed was that her fingers were buried in warm dirt, and something soft was brushing her cheek.
She blinked. The world above her shimmered. Light danced between the branches like it couldn't decide if it wanted to be morning or not. Clouds moved slow and lazy across a sky that still wore its night colors.
A breeze passed through the lavender and made the flowers ripple all around her.
She giggled.
Somewhere close by, a wind chime answered her.
The girl sat up slowly, pushing strands of hair from her face. Her hair was long. Too long. It fell like water down her arms, glowing faintly in the light. When she reached up to scratch her head, her fingers bumped something soft.
She froze.
Ears.
She had ears on top of her head.
She poked them again. They twitched.
Her eyes went wide. Then she laughed, clapping her hands over her mouth like she had just discovered a secret only the wind should know.
A rustle.
The girl turned her head sharply.
A small fox stood at the edge of the clearing. Pale fur. Calm eyes. It tilted its head at her, then turned and padded silently back into the mist without a sound.
She watched it go. Then stood.
The field stretched around her in every direction. Lavender. Trees. A faint stone path winding through the grass. In the distance, something glimmered. Water, maybe. A river.
She didn't know where she was.
She didn't know who she was.
But she wasn't afraid.
She took one step forward, then another.
And then she heard a voice.
"Curious little thing, aren't you?"
The girl turned.
An old man stood a few paces away. His robe was dark, long, wrapped carefully around him like the wind might try to steal it. He carried a wooden staff, tall and worn, tied with thin paper charms that fluttered softly in the breeze.
His eyes were kind. A little tired. Like he had been waiting for something, but didn't expect it to look quite like this.
"You're not supposed to be here," he said, though his voice didn't sound upset. Just... thoughtful.
The girl tilted her head.
He walked closer, slow and steady, the staff tapping gently against the earth.
"Are you lost?"
She didn't answer.
He smiled. It was a small smile, but warm. The kind that didn't need to say everything all at once.
"Do you have a name?"
The girl opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She frowned and tried again. Nothing.
"Ah," he said, crouching down in front of her. "That's alright. We can choose one together."
She blinked at him.
He smelled like pine needles and firewood. Like stories wrapped in blankets. Like something that wasn't afraid of time.
He stood again and offered his hand.
"You shouldn't sleep in the lavender. It's lovely, but not very practical. Come."
She stared at his hand for a moment. Then took it.
And just like that, she followed.