The Wanderer

Meredith walks beside me as if she’s always belonged here. The forest doesn’t make sense around her. The dead branches don’t creak when she passes. The brittle ground doesn’t crunch under her steps. Even the air feels different — less cold, less empty, as if it’s holding its breath for her. She talks easily, too easily for someone who claims to be lost. “Funny,” she says, brushing her fingers along a cracked trunk. “I’ve wandered this place for ages, but I’ve never seen anyone else. Not until you.” Her voice is warm, but her eyes flick toward me with a sharpness that doesn’t match her smile. I pretend not to notice. “How long have you been here?” I ask. She laughs softly. “Long enough to forget what came before.” It’s the same answer I’ve given myself a hundred times, but when she says it, something feels rehearsed. Practiced. Like she’s reciting a line she’s used before. We walk in silence for a while. The trees around us look the same as always — grey, dead, endless — but something is wrong. A symbol is carved into one of the trunks, a spiral of jagged lines. I’ve never seen it before. Meredith steps in front of it quickly. “Don’t touch that,” she says, too fast, too sharp. I freeze. “Why?” “It’s nothing.” She forces a smile. “Just… old markings. The forest does strange things.” But the symbol is fresh. The bark around it is still flaking, as if carved recently. As if carved by someone with a steady hand and a purpose. We keep walking, but the silence between us changes. It thickens. Her charm doesn’t fade — if anything, it grows stronger — but now it feels like a net being pulled tighter. “Do you ever feel like the forest is watching?” she asks suddenly. I glance at her. “You said you’ve been alone.” She tilts her head, studying me with that same too‑intense gaze. “Alone doesn’t mean unwatched.” A chill runs through me. She steps closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth of her breath in this cold, dead world. Her eyes search mine, slow and deliberate, as if she’s trying to read something beneath my skin. “You’re different,” she whispers. “The forest knows it. And so do I.” Before I can respond, she turns away, leading me deeper into the grey.