Eyes Of The Forest

Morning crept softly over the horizon, brushing the fields in pale gold.

Arlen blinked awake, the memory of the night’s song still echoing faintly in his mind. Her voice… or had it only been a dream?

He pushed the thought aside and rose from bed. The house was quiet, save for the soft breathing of Elara still asleep. Moving carefully, he prepared a simple meal—fresh bread, a bit of honey, and warm milk. When Elara stirred, he smiled gently and set the tray beside her.

“I have to go, little one,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’ll be gone only a short while.”

Saira entered just then, eyes steady but warm. “You’re heading out again,” she said quietly.

Arlen nodded. “I have to find the herb, Saira. I have to try again. Maybe today I’ll have more luck.”

Saira studied him for a long moment, then sighed and placed a hand on his arm. “Be careful, Arlen. Elara is counting on you.”

He gave her a faint smile, slinging his satchel across his shoulder. “I know. I’ll be careful.”

Moments later, he led his horse from the stable. The morning air was cool and damp, mist curling around the hooves as they began the familiar path toward the treeline.

As the forest drew closer, that strange feeling stirred again in his chest—a pull both gentle and haunting, the echo of a song that refused to fade.

The forest greeted him in hushed tones, mist coiling between the roots and branches like breath. Arlen slowed his horse, letting the silence settle around him. The air here was thicker — alive with something unseen yet deeply felt.

He dismounted, the sound of his boots muffled by moss. For a moment, he just stood there, hand resting on the horse’s neck, listening.

At first, there was only the soft murmur of leaves. But then — faintly, like a voice carried through the wind — he heard it.

Wake…

His breath caught. The whisper threaded through the trees, neither sound nor thought, but something in between — a feeling that brushed against his mind like sunlight through fog.

Wake… wake up. You must wake. They need you…

The words — if they were words — echoed in his chest, familiar and strange all at once. He turned slowly, scanning the trees, his pulse quickening. The forest was still, yet it felt as though every branch and root leaned toward him, urging, waiting.

A shiver ran down his spine.

He swallowed hard, steadying himself. “I’m here,” he whispered under his breath, uncertain who he was answering.

And with that, he took his first step deeper into the woods — where light and shadow danced like breath, and the forest seemed to awaken with him.

He followed the faint trail until the whispering leaves gave way to the gentle sound of running water.

The stream.

Sunlight spilled through the canopy in soft golden threads, scattering across the rippling surface. The place was just as he remembered — quiet, untouched, almost sacred. Yet… something was missing.

Arlen’s gaze swept over the stones and the glade beyond, searching — for a shimmer of green wings, a soft hum, the trace of a voice. Nothing.

Only the forest breathing around him.

He stepped closer to the stream and knelt, letting his fingers brush the cool water. For a moment, he thought he saw movement — a reflection that wasn’t his own — but when he blinked, it was gone.

“Were you here…?” he whispered, his voice barely more than breath. “Or did I only dream you?”

The forest didn’t answer, but a breeze stirred through the branches, carrying with it the faintest scent of wildflowers — the same scent that had lingered in the air when she sang.

His heart tightened. She had been real. He could still feel the echo of her song, like the memory of light behind closed eyes.

“I’ll find the herb,” he murmured to the water. “For Elara. And maybe… maybe I’ll find you again too.”

A single leaf drifted down, landing on the stream’s surface and spinning gently away. Arlen watched it until it disappeared beyond the bend, then rose slowly to his feet.

The forest seemed to listen. And though she was nowhere to be seen, her presence lingered — unseen, unheard, yet unmistakably there.

Arlen remained by the stream, the quiet pressing against him like a weight. His chest ached with words he didn’t fully understand. Yet something deep within urged him to speak — to answer the voice he had heard in the night.

So he did what came most naturally.

He sang.

Softly at first, no more than a hum. The melody trembled on his lips, fragile as morning light — a song of confusion, of longing, of wanting to help but not knowing how.

If I could reach you through the trees,

I’d give my voice, my heart, my plea.

I’m only human, small and frail,

But I will follow where your echoes sail.

His voice carried across the water, over moss and stone, rising into the canopy. And as it did, the forest seemed to stir — the leaves shimmered, the air thickened with light.

From between the shafts of sunlight, a soft glow emerged. At first, Arlen thought it was a trick of the eyes — but then the glow moved, slow and graceful, revealing the silvery mane and luminous horn of a unicorn.

The creature stepped silently from the trees, its hooves barely touching the earth. Arlen froze, breath caught in his throat. Awe and disbelief warred in his chest.

The unicorn tilted its head, as if listening to the remnants of his song. Then, to Arlen’s utter astonishment, it stepped closer — cautious, but curious, drawn by the purity in his voice.

He didn’t move. Every instinct told him to bow, to show respect. “You heard her too, didn’t you?” he whispered. “The one who sang…”

The unicorn’s eyes, deep pools of silver-blue, seemed to hold an answer — or perhaps, another question.

And far away, deep within the heart of the forest, Liora stirred.

Her breath caught as a strange warmth spread through the air — familiar, resonant. A voice. His voice.

“He’s singing,” she whispered to herself, standing among the flowering roots. “He’s… answering me.”

But then she felt it — a ripple of energy, the bond between forest and creature tightening with alarm. The unicorn was not alone. Someone was with it. A human.

Fear laced through her veins, swift and sharp. If the unicorn feels threatened…

Without hesitation, Liora spread her wings and lifted from the forest floor, the green shimmer of her flight flickering between leaves. Her heart pounded as she neared the stream, branches brushing her arms like warnings.

When she broke through the canopy, she saw them — Arlen and the unicorn, facing one another in quiet awe.

But the moment her feet touched the ground, the unicorn startled. Its horn glimmered bright, hooves pawing the earth, fear rippling through its body.

“Go, hide!” Liora shouted, the creature reared and vanished into the forest light, leaving only a swirl of silver dust behind.

Arlen turned sharply, eyes widening as he finally saw her — truly saw her — standing by the water’s edge, her wings trembling, breath quick and uncertain.

For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke.

Only the forest did — whispering, breathing, waiting.

The unicorn’s light faded into the forest, leaving the glade bathed in trembling stillness. Only the faint echo of hooves and the soft swirl of silver dust lingered in the air.

Liora stood frozen by the water’s edge, her breath quick and shallow. Her wings, half-folded, shimmered faintly in the morning light — the green hue flickering like dew on leaves. Fear and wonder tangled in her chest, but her feet refused to move.

And Arlen… he couldn’t breathe.

She was there. Real. So close that the morning light caught the tiny motes of gold in her hair, so close that he could see the way her chest rose and fell with each unsteady breath.

Only a few steps separated them — a single heartbeat, a fragile silence.

Neither spoke.

The forest itself seemed to hold its breath. Even the wind quieted, and the stream slowed to a whisper, as though afraid to disturb them.

Arlen’s gaze locked with hers — eyes kissed by sunlight through leaves, luminous and alive. There was fear there, yes, but also something else… recognition.

His voice faltered. “You…”

The word barely carried, soft as a prayer.

Liora’s lips parted slightly, but no sound came. She only stared back, her pulse thundering in her ears. The human’s eyes were not like the others she had glimpsed before — they held no greed, no hunger for what the forest could give. Only honesty. And something she could not name.

A stray breeze brushed past them, carrying the scent of moss and sunlight.

It touched his hair. It lifted her wings.

And for one suspended heartbeat, it was as if the forest itself watched, silent and wide-eyed, waiting to see what would happen next.

Slowly, almost unconsciously, Arlen lifted a hand, as if to show he meant no harm, but the moment he saw the fear in her eyes, he quickly lowered it to his side.

Liora remained perfectly still, wings slightly unfurled yet unmoving, trembling faintly, a reflection of her uncertainty and apprehension. Her presence was strong but silent, every muscle taut, her gaze unwavering from his.

The space between them was charged with a kind of quiet that was anything but ordinary. Every breath, every flicker of sunlight through the canopy, every heartbeat seemed weighted, as if the forest itself was holding its breath. Arlen felt his resolve intertwine with uncertainty — he wanted to step closer, yet knew any movement might startle the being he so carefully observed.

His eyes continued to study hers: he traced the play of light in her hair, the hints of gold caught in the green glow of her gaze. Liora felt the same — honesty and determination, something that drew her to remain, to watch, rather than flee.

In this space, separated by only a few steps and filtered morning light, their eyes connected in a way that transcended touch. There was no closeness, no warmth of bodies, yet every feeling, every emotion, was palpable — an invisible bridge between them, fragile, precious, and full of promises not yet spoken.

Neither moved.

Neither dared.

Only the space between them — thin as light, fragile as hope — seemed to pulse with something new. Something that neither of them could yet understand, but both already felt too deeply to deny.