The forest in the rainy season was no longer the same place Charlisa had first wandered into months ago.
It had thickened.
Roots jutted from the ground like twisted fingers, the underbrush teemed with life, and heavy vines draped from above like serpents sleeping in prayer. Mushrooms bloomed in strange colors beneath fallen logs, and insects hummed in choruses that shifted with every hour.
She had learned to listen—not just with her ears, but with her skin, breath, and instincts.
It was Elder Duma who suggested the journey.
"You've studied our plants. You know the soil and seasons. Now go find something that calls to you—not something you want to use, but something that wants to meet you."
It was more than a task. It was a test of connection.
Kael insisted on following, but Charlisa refused gently.
"I need to do this alone. Not far. Just far enough to hear only my own voice."
He didn't argue. He only handed her a small bone whistle strung with a braided cord. "Blow once if you're delayed. Twice if you're lost. Three if you're hurt."
She promised.
---
The forest welcomed her with silence and dripping green.
Each step squelched against soft earth. She moved slowly, using a walking stick Kael had carved for her. She passed moss-covered stones carved faintly with spiral patterns—markings of old trails.
Deeper in, the canopy thickened and the light turned pale green.
Birds called in unfamiliar tongues. A creature rustled in the bushes and darted away before she could see it. Overhead, monkeys shrieked and leapt through branches slick with rain. The air was warm and wet, the scent of crushed leaves and water-soaked bark thick in her lungs.
But Charlisa felt no fear.
Only a slow, steady sense of being watched—not by danger, but by the forest itself.
---
By midday, she reached a clearing she didn't know existed.
The trees parted around a smooth stone basin filled with clear rainwater. Floating in it were lavender-gray petals that shimmered faintly—like moonlight trapped in silk. The plant grew from a jagged crack in the basin itself, small and crooked but defiantly blooming.
She gasped.
It looked like Kael's secret flowers, the ones on the hidden hilltop garden. But this one was wild. Untouched. Hidden by the forest and yet thriving.
Charlisa knelt beside it and dipped her fingers into the cool basin.
Her reflection shimmered—rain-slicked hair clinging to her face, eyes bright, lips parted in breathless wonder. She looked older, but not tired. Changed.
She wasn't here to take the flower.
She just watched.
Then, she whispered:
> "Thank you for showing yourself."
She felt something stir behind her.
Turning slowly, she saw a mother doe and her tiny fawn, half-concealed behind a tree. The fawn's legs wobbled, its coat spotted. The mother stared calmly—eyes like dark stone, unblinking.
Charlisa didn't move.
For a moment, none of them did.
Then the doe turned and vanished into the trees, the fawn close behind, leaving behind only silence and the impression of stillness that meant something.
Charlisa stood.
The rain had started again—soft, rhythmic. She walked back slowly, leaving the flower behind, but bringing something deeper with her.
Not a trophy.
But a memory.
---
Kael met her at the edge of the village trail, arms crossed, mud streaking his boots.
He opened his mouth to scold her, but paused when he saw her face.
"You found something."
She nodded, breath hitching a little. "Yes. And I think it found me."
He brushed a wet strand from her face. "Next time, I'm following."
Charlisa smiled, water running down her cheek. "Next time, we go together."