The Forest

Chapter Two: The Forest

Three days later

The forest knew Jasmine’s name.

The paths opened for her. The feverfew grew exactly where she needed it. Kira and Akira stayed close, their black coats blending with the dappled light, tongues lolling happily.

“Kira. Akira. Stay close,” she murmured, kneeling to harvest the plants.

Then Akira froze.

Her hackles rose. A low, uneasy whine slipped from her throat.

Jasmine’s stomach tightened. “What is it, girl?”

The wolf bolted.

Jasmine dropped the feverfew and ran after her, heart already hammering. She found Akira standing over a man slumped against the base of an old oak.

He was young — maybe twenty-two or twenty-three — dressed in fine, torn clothes now dark with blood. His face was deathly pale. A deep gash ran along his side, still sluggishly bleeding.

For one horrible second, Jasmine thought he was already gone.

Then his chest rose — shallow, weak.

She dropped to her knees beside him. Her hands hovered uselessly. Too deep. Feverfew won’t be enough. He needs yarrow, a clean cloth, pressure—

Her eyes fell on her scarf.

Her breath caught.

No.

Granny’s voice crashed over her like cold water: Don’t let anyone see that hair. If the wrong person remembers you, you won’t live to see another winter.

Jasmine’s fingers trembled. She looked at the man’s face — young, helpless, lips slightly parted as if he were already slipping away. Then back at the wound. Blood was pooling on the forest floor.

She could walk away right now. Leave him here. No one would ever know.

But her hands refused to move.

“Damn it,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Damn it, why did you have to be here?”

Her heart pounded so hard she felt sick. With shaking fingers, she reached up and pulled the scarf off.

Silver hair spilled down her shoulders, bright and impossible in the forest light. She felt terrifyingly exposed — as if the trees themselves were staring at her. For the first time in years, the wind touched her scalp.

She tore the scarf in half with her teeth, one piece pressed hard against the bleeding wound, the other quickly wrapped around her head in a messy, imperfect knot. It wasn’t enough. Strands of silver still escaped.

“Kira. Akira. Guard,” she ordered, voice tight.

The wolves positioned themselves on either side of the stranger, ears pricked, eyes alert.

Jasmine grabbed the man’s arm and hauled it over her shoulder. He was heavy — dead weight — and the effort made her legs shake. Blood soaked into her dress.

“You’re not dying in my forest,” she muttered through gritted teeth, tears of fear and frustration pricking her eyes. “I don’t have time to bury you… and I’m not letting you die on my conscience either.”

He didn’t answer. His head lolled against her shoulder as she dragged him toward the hidden cave, every step filled with the terrifying knowledge that she had just risked everything for a stranger whose name she didn’t even know.

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