Chapter 47 The Forest's Call

Chapter 47 The Forest's Call
Two Years Later

Elara's POV

The spring evening light filtered through the kitchen window in soft amber streaks. I hummed absently while chopping vegetables, a melody whose origin I couldn't name. On the table beside me lay Selena's latest letter: "All is well, do not worry. Spring brings much rain—take care to stay warm. —Mother."

Two years had passed since our wedding. My communication with Selena had settled into this distant rhythm—letters arriving every few weeks, each containing instructions for my magical education. In the beginning, she had visited monthly, but as months wore on, her visits grew sparse, then stopped altogether. Now there were only these brief messages, teaching me spells through written words.

Setting down the knife, I turned to the broom leaning against the wall. I positioned myself in the center of the kitchen, raising my hands as a faint shimmer gathered at my fingertips.

The broom rose slowly, wobbling as I concentrated. "Just like Mother showed me," I whispered, watching it sweep in uneven motions. Every few strokes, it veered off course. "Slower... yes..."

But the magic slipped away, and the broom lurched sideways, knocking over a chair with a crash. "Still not right," I muttered.

After a moment, I tried again. This time the broom lifted more smoothly. A smile tugged at my lips—two years ago, I couldn't have lifted a feather.

---

Realizing I'd forgotten herbs for tonight's stew, I hurried through the village as the sun descended. I made my way toward the herb seller's stall when three familiar figures emerged from a narrow alley.

Throne, Roderick, and Silas. My stomach tightened.

Since that confrontation in the alley two years ago, these three men had kept quiet for a long time, wary of the power I'd displayed back then. But as seasons passed, their caution had gradually transformed into something more insidious—a creeping boldness that tested boundaries with each encounter.

Throne blocked the passage, his eyes traveling over me. "Well, well, if it isn't Connor's little witch-wife, out all alone."

Roderick circled to my left, reeking of cheap ale. His hand reached toward my hair. "I've never had the pleasure of sampling a witch..."

I stepped backward sharply. "Get out of my way."

But Silas had moved behind me, smiling with false friendliness. "No need to be so unfriendly. That face of yours... Real pretty when you're angry..."

Throne leaned toward my neck, inhaling deeply. "I like a woman with spirit. The more you fight, the more fun it is..."

His hand moved toward my waist, and something inside me snapped. Heat surged—suddenly Throne's shirt was engulfed in flames, forcing him to leap backward with a yelp.

"Fire! Damn it!" he shouted, tearing at the burning garment.

I turned and ran. Behind me, Throne cursed.

Then came the sharp crack of wood on flesh and Mabel's furious voice: "Get out of here, you worthless drunks!"

The grocer's wife stood in her doorway wielding a rolling pin. The three men slunk away, but Throne turned back, running his tongue across his lip. "We'll finish this another time, witch."

Mabel beckoned me closer. "You need to be more careful around those three. They've been running their mouths about you at the tavern for months now. Watch yourself."

---

Connor and Garret emerged from the tree line carrying a massive buck between them.

Connor's face lit up when he saw me. He set down his end to embrace me. "We got a beauty this time. Big enough to feed us for two weeks."

I brushed dirt from his hair. "You're filthy. You'll need a proper bath."

Garret watched us. "I'll help you string this up in the shed."

While they worked outside, I prepared the kitchen. When they brought in the first portions of meat, I found myself examining the carcass with unexpected intensity. My nostrils flared as I analyzed the scent—young male, healthy, killed quickly.

For a moment, an image flashed: myself running through moonlit forest, bringing down prey with teeth and claws.

I shook my head sharply, but not before Connor noticed. "Elara? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I said quickly.

But when I picked up the butchering knife, my hands moved with practiced precision, finding the natural seams between joints effortlessly.

Garret paused, his brow furrowing. "You handle that blade like an experienced hunter."

I looked down at my hands. "I... I don't know. It just seems obvious?"

Connor stepped in smoothly. "Selena probably taught her survival skills."

---

By full darkness, the three of us gathered around the table for dinner. The fire crackled cheerfully.

Connor launched into the day's hunt. "That buck almost got away from us. It was heading straight for the ravine when Father's shot brought it down."

Garret waved away the praise and took a long drink.

Connor's expression grew serious. "Oh, and we found something concerning today. Fresh Wendigo tracks in the eastern forest."

The name sent a shiver down my spine. "Wendigo? That's the creature you've mentioned before?"

Garret nodded grimly. "Spring brings them out to hunt. Last year's forest fire drove it deep into the mountains. Now it's back."

Connor set down his spoon. "We're organizing a tracking party for tomorrow."

At the mention of tracking, something inside me stirred—that same fierce urge I'd felt countless times over the past two years. I gripped my spoon tighter.

"Garret," I said, perhaps too quickly, "you've been hunting in these forests for so many years—you must have stories about the deeper wilderness?"

His eyes brightened. He set down his cup and leaned back. "Oh, there are tales aplenty."

Connor smiled. "Here we go—Father's about to start on his forest legends again."

Garret ignored the teasing. "Deep in the heart of the forest, there's a place we call the Heartwood. The trees there grow so massive that ten men linking hands couldn't encircle their trunks."

He paused. "My own father stumbled into that region once. He said the sunlight came down in solid shafts, like pillars of gold. The air itself seemed different there—heavier, charged with something he couldn't name."

I found myself completely absorbed.

"And the sounds," Garret continued, his voice dropping. "On full moon nights, hunters have reported hearing things from the Heartwood—deep, resonant calls that vibrate in your bones, like the forest itself is singing."

My heart began to pound. Fragmented images flickered through my mind—moonlight streaming through leaves, running faster than any human should move. My blood felt like it was heating.

"The strangest part is how the animals behave there. Deer, rabbits, even predators—they all gather in numbers you'd never see anywhere else. Father said he counted three dozen deer in a single clearing, all calm and unafraid."

My vision began to blur, the kitchen fading as those phantom images grew stronger. I could almost smell the rich earth of that ancient forest, almost hear those resonant calls.

Garret paused mid-sentence, watching me with sudden intensity. Then he stopped completely, a knowing smile crossing his weathered face.

Connor's hand touched my shoulder gently. "Elara? You still with us?"

I blinked hard, my voice coming out rough. "Those hunters—they really saw all of that?"

Garret's eyes locked onto mine, leaned forward slightly, his smile widening. "Why don't you come hunting with us tomorrow?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. "Perhaps you can find the answers in the forest yourself."