I gasped, my heart slamming violently against my ribs as I spun around.
Abie stood there, her eyes wide, her expression unreadable.
For a second, neither of us spoke. Her fingers tightened slightly on my shoulder before she let go.
“What are you doing?” she asked, lowering her voice as she glanced towards the house I had been spying on. “And what were you seeing?”
I swallowed, trying to steady my breathing. “I saw him inject something...red. Like… blood or something.”
Abie didn’t even flinch. She leaned a little to the side, casually peeking past me towards the window. “Oh, that's most probably esuries,” she said simply seeming to register something. “You’ve never seen anyone take that medicine before?”
The way she said it made me feel dramatic. Like I had just overreacted to someone taking vitamins.
“I wasn’t snooping,” I added quickly, even though I clearly was. “I was actually looking for your house. I just… ended up here.”
She turned back to me, one eyebrow lifting slightly. “Looking for my house?”
“I felt lonely,” I admitted before I could stop myself. The words felt strange in my mouth, heavier than I expected. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
Something softened in her face. Just slightly.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “About school. I heard what happened. I wasn’t there that day. If I had been, I wouldn’t have let it turn into that.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”
I shrugged like it didn’t matter, even though it did.
“Come on,” she said, nodding towards the opposite. “I live there.”
I blinked. “That one?”
She gave me a small look. “Yes. That one.”
From the outside, it didn’t look much better than the first house- grey wood, peeling paint, and windows that looked like they had seen way too many winters.
But when she pushed the door open and I stepped inside, I surprised.
It was spotless. Not just tidy like a random house, but clean in a way that felt intentional. The air smelled faintly of soap and something warm, maybe baked bread. The floors were swept.
The furniture, though old, was polished to a shine, and neat curtains let in the soft, filtered light from the trees. It felt… lived in and comfortable so warmer than Mr. Fisher’s house ever was.
Before I could take it all in, a small blur came running down the hallway.
“Abie!”
A little girl, maybe eight years old, threw herself at Abie, nearly tackling her. Abie laughed softly and bent down to hug her back.
“This is my sister, Rye,” Abie said, glancing at me.
Rye pulled back and looked at me with wide, curious eyes. Just studying me the way kids do when they’re trying to decide if you’re interesting or dangerous.
“I’m Hana,” I said, trying to sound as nice as possible.
Rye gave a single, solemn nod – as if filing that away for later- and then disappeared back down the small hall as quickly as she’d arrived.
Abie gestured for me to sit and vanished into the kitchen. When she returned, she handed me a cup of coffee. I wrapped my hands around it, grateful for the heat. We sat across from each other at a small wooden table
“How’s Lucie?” I asked after a moment.
“She’s fine,” Abie replied. "you miss her?”
“I don’t know. Just wondering.” I hesitated, then added, “How have you both been… after the wolf thing?”
Abie’s brow furrowed. “What wolf?”
“The one we saw. When we were coming back. In the woods.” I searched her face, waiting for recognition.
She just stared at me, looking genuinely baffled. “Hana, there aren’t any wolves in this village. Besides, there wasn’t even school on the day you’re talking about.”
I blinked, my stomach dropping. “What do you mean? We walked back together. I was about to come home with you!”
Abie let out a small, uneasy laugh. "I didn’t go to school that day. Neither did Lucie.”
My grip tightened on the mug. “You’re saying… you weren’t there?
“I’m saying I wasn’t there,” she repeated, her tone steady but puzzled. “What wolf encounter are you talking about?”
I couldn’t find the words. I remembered it so clearly – the trees, the path, the looming shape in the distance. My heart had been pounding. But if she hadn’t been there…was I losing my mind?
could someone ever forget such an encounter?
“I was just joking,” I said finally, forcing a smile. She didn’t need to know that my brain was playing tricks on me.
She bought it…she smiled and the tension evaporated.
Rye reappeared then, clutching a crooked wooden slingshot and looking very serious about needing help testing it.
Abie rolled her eyes but stood up anyway, and somehow, I got swept along.
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We ended up behind the house where the trees grew thick. Rye led us to a “fort” that was really just a pile of branches leaning against a rock, but she moved through it like it was a fortress.
“You have to crouch,” she told me importantly. “Enemies can see tall people.”
“Good to know,” I said, lowering myself dramatically.
Abie snorted. “She’s been reading way too many adventure books.”
We spent the next hour throwing pebbles at a crooked tin can balanced on a stump. Rye cheered every time she missed and booed loudly whenever I hit it, accusing me of cheating even though she had handed me the exact same stones.
At some point, she grabbed my hand and dragged me deeper into the trees to show me a “secret path” that was really just a narrow space between two thorny bushes.
I hadn’t laughed like that in a long time. It felt light.
When we went back inside, Abie tied her hair up and announced that we were making something simple for dinner. Rye insisted on being “assistant chef,” which mostly meant she stirred too hard and nearly spilled everything twice.
I found myself chopping vegetables at the counter while Abie moved around the kitchen with easy familiarity. The smell of onions and herbs filled the room, warm and grounding.
For a moment, I felt like I’d just stepped into a better version of my own life. That's if i had siblings or actually knew my biological parents.
Later, while they were setting the table, I excused myself to find the restroom. The house felt different in other spaces without Rye running around.
The floorboards creaked under my feet as I moved down the hall. I tried one door—storage. The next was a linen closet. At the very end of the hallway was a heavier door. I reached for the handle, but it didn’t turn
Locked.
I frowned and tried again, a little firmer. It didn’t budge.
“What are you doing?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Abie stood a few feet behind me, her expression unreadable again.
“I—uh—I was looking for the restroom,” I said quickly, stepping away from the door. “I must’ve taken the wrong turn.”
Her eyes lingered on the handle for a second before she nodded. “It’s the second door on the left. Not that one.”
She walked past me and led the way. I felt her eyes on my back until I was inside.
When we sat down later to eat, the food steaming between us, Abie spoke casually at first.
“The room you tried to open,” she said, breaking a piece of bread. “That’s my grandmother’s.”
I paused my fork halfway to my mouth. “Oh!”
“She’s sick,” Abie continued. Her tone shifted—subtle, but unmistakable. “Contagious disease. Most people in Villaluz have it I think I told you about her sometime back.”
I glanced at her but she wasn’t smiling.
“I didn’t think it was that serious, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine, just be careful,” she added. “It’s dangerous to be caught by fames.”
I almost let out a small laugh before I could stop myself. “Fames?”
Abie’s lips curved slowly. “It’s the disease.”
Rye looked between us, confused but still chewing her food happily.
Abie reached across the table and took my hand lightly. Her fingers were warm. With her other hand, she traced a word against my skin. 'Sangus'.
“Vorare,” she said, plastering a smile.
The way she said it made something in my stomach tighten.
I frowned slightly. “Uuh?”
Her smile widened just a fraction. “It means we should devour the food in front of us.” She gestured to the plates. “Dig in!”
I hesitated for half a second—then picked up my fork.
The rest of dinner was easy, almost light. Rye spent the whole time mapping out the "fort expansion" and officially promoting me to Forest General.
I accepted the rank with all the solemn dignity a grown adult can muster when being knighted with a fork. Abie didn’t say much; she just watched us, her smile showing up at all the right times, though her eyes looked like they were a few miles away.
When it was time to go, I found myself lingering by the door. The house felt different now—warmer, like I’d actually been invited in rather than just showing up.
“Wait,” I said, digging through my bag. “Are you heading to the post tomorrow? Dropping off letters or anything?”
Abie tilted her head. “Maybe. Why?”
I pulled out the note for Alicia. I’d rewritten it before dinner—cleaner, less frantic. “If you are... could you drop this? It’s for a friend.”
She took it without a second thought. “Of course.”
“Don’t read it,” I blurted out.
That got me a smirk. “I won’t.”
We stepped outside into the cool evening air. Rye insisted on walking us to the path, holding my hand with the kind of intense seriousness only a kid can manage.
As Abie and I walked, I tried to keep my voice casual. “How’s Lucie doing, really?”
“She’s fine,” Abie said, her voice flat.
“Where does she live again?”
Abie’s gaze drifted to the darkening treeline. “Her father took her to the city for medication. She’ll be gone for a while.”
“Oh.” I tried to sound relieved, but her answer felt... rehearsed. Distant. “That’s good, I guess. If it helps.”
“Yes,” Abie said quietly. “She couldn't stand the esuries.”
We hit the fork in the woods—that spot where the world always feels like it’s splitting in two. The shadows were thick at the roots of the trees. Suddenly, Rye lunged forward and wrapped her arms around my waist.
“You have to come back,” she mumbles into my jacket. “We never get guests.”
My throat went tight. It was such a small, honest thing to say, and it made me more emotional than I expected. I never had any close relatives and if Mia had not adopted me I would still be living in an orphanage.
“I will,” I promised, my voice a little thick.
On impulse, I reached for my wrist. I untied the friendship bracelet Alicia had given me—the blue and gold threads were starting to fray, but it was still strong. I knelt down and tied it around Rye’s tiny wrist.
“As long as you have this,” I told her, “we’re friends. Officially.”
Rye looked at it like I’d just handed her a crown. “Forever?”
“Forever,” I said.
She beamed, and for a second, the woods didn't seem so dark. They looked way more beautiful with her smiling like that.
When she finally let go, Abie stepped in. She didn't give me one of those polite, "see-you-later" hugs. It was firm, lingering, the kind of hug that made me feel like i could survive in this lonely town.
She leaned in, her breath warm against my ear.
“It’s fine to miss, 'i' sometimes,” she whispered.
I pulled back, a little confused by the phrasing, but I just smiled. I figured she must have meant it was okay to miss people—that the distance was just a temporary thing.
It really made me feel understood.
“We’ll see each other soon,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere yet and it will be my birthday soon.”
She looked at me a beat too long, then nodded.
“Of course,” she said.
I turned and started the walk home. My wrist felt light without the bracelet, and the house slowly disappeared into the trees behind me.
But as I walked, I couldn't shake the feeling that I’d left a piece of myself standing back there at the fork in the road.
By the time I reached Mr. Fisher’s house, dusk had already settled thickly over the village, turning the sky into a deep, bruised shade of violet and swallowing the outlines of the trees.
The yard looked unfamiliar in the fading light, quieter than usual, as though the entire place had drawn in a breath and refused to release it. I slowed without meaning to, a faint unease threading through me as I noticed the porch light was off.
That wasn’t normal.
There was almost always some indication of life inside—low radio static, the scrape of a chair, the dull clink of dishes from the kitchen. Mia was always loud, listening to Stephen Sanchez as she went around with her chores..
Tonight there was nothing. The windows were dark, flat, unreadable.
Maybe Mia went out.
The thought arrived quickly, but it didn’t settle. Mia didn’t just “go out” without telling me, especially not after everything that had been happening. Especially not when she had been worried.
I climbed the porch steps, each one creaking under my weight in a way that sounded louder than it should have. I stood there for a second, listening for movement, for breathing, for anything that would reassure me.
Nothing.
I pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside.
“Mia?” I called, my voice softer than I intended.
Silence answered me.
The air inside felt heavy and still, as though it hadn’t been disturbed in hours. I closed the door behind me and let my eyes adjust to the dimness, my gaze moving carefully across the living room—the couch, the small table, the chair near the window.
And then my eyes stopped.
Jaden
Jaden fucking Hopkins!
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With love,
P. L. Admiral
please let me know which chapter was the best so far.
