Elsewhere

Three days passed before Durn found another place that made him stop.

It looked nothing like the clearing.

The trees grew closer together here, their branches weaving a thick canopy that left the forest floor cool and shaded. Moss covered every stone, and ferns brushed softly against his legs as he walked.

At first, everything seemed ordinary.

A pair of rabbits disappeared into the brush.

Somewhere high above, leaves rustled in the wind.

He continued along the narrow trail.

Then he slowed.

The silence.

Not complete.

Just...

familiar.

Durn stood still.

He closed his eyes.

The breeze carried the scent of pine and damp bark.

The earth beneath his feet felt healthy.

Nothing looked disturbed.

Nothing appeared wrong.

Yet the birds were gone.

Not all of them.

Just enough that the forest no longer sounded alive.

He waited.

Several minutes passed.

Nothing changed.

When he finally opened his journal, he didn't write immediately.

Instead, he turned back several pages.

The quiet clearing.

The moved deer.

The owls nesting farther north.

Each observation had seemed complete on its own.

Small.

Unremarkable.

Now they no longer stood alone.

He drew no lines between them.

No conclusions.

Only a small mark in the corner of each page.

A reminder.

The forest had asked the same question twice.

It had simply chosen a different place to ask it.

Durn closed the journal.

For the first time since arriving in Feralas, he stopped wondering whether he had imagined the silence.

He still didn't know what it meant.

But he no longer believed it was alone.