Chapter 4: Alice in the Wilderness

The forest had a way of swallowing the world around me, leaving only the sound of my boots crunching on the damp earth. Echo padded silently beside me, his fur occasionally brushing against the undergrowth, his ears alert to every rustle, every shift in the air. The trees towered overhead, their canopies interlocking like a natural cathedral, filtering the weak sunlight into soft beams that barely touched the forest floor.

As the hours passed, the deeper we ventured, the quieter everything became. It was an unsettling stillness, almost oppressive. The world felt like it had stopped moving, leaving only the wind and the occasional chirp of a bird to break the silence.

I was beginning to feel that familiar pull—the isolation that had become my constant companion since the world fell apart. Echo's company was a comfort, but something inside me still longed for the human touch, the voices of people who could still offer something like normality, or at least the illusion of it.

But that wasn't going to happen, not in a place like this.

And then, through the heavy silence, came a sound.

A soft rustling. A snap of branches.

I stopped, motioning for Echo to remain still. My breath hitched as my senses sharpened. It wasn't the wind. It wasn't an animal. It was too... deliberate. Someone—or something—was out there.

I crouched behind a large boulder, motioning for Echo to follow my lead. His fur stood on end, his ears twitching toward the noise. I tried to peer through the dense foliage, squinting to make out any shape in the underbrush.

A few moments passed, and then—there it was.

A figure emerged from between the trees.

A woman.

She was young, probably around my age, though her wild appearance made it hard to tell. She wore a patchwork of clothes, some too large, others hastily tied together with frayed ropes or strips of cloth. Her boots were caked in mud, and her hair—unruly and tangled—hung around her face like a veil, giving her the appearance of someone who had long forgotten the luxury of combs and mirrors.

She was carrying a woven basket, the twigs and fibers straining under its load. There were faint stains on the sides, likely from whatever she had gathered. The basket bounced slightly with each step, and as she moved deeper into the clearing, I caught a glimpse of what she was collecting—berries, herbs, and some wild roots.

Then, without warning, she tripped.

Her foot caught on a low branch, and she tumbled forward, sending her sprawling face-first into the dirt with an undignified grunt.

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing, though I quickly stifled it, unsure if I should reveal myself yet. I stayed crouched, watching as she scrambled to push herself up, muttering under her breath.

"Ugh!" she groaned, wiping the mud off her face with the back of her hand. "Not my best moment."

She took a deep breath and pulled herself to her knees, her basket now lying upside down beside her, its contents scattered across the forest floor.

I couldn't help it. I stood and stepped out from behind the rock, trying not to draw attention to myself too quickly.

"Are you... okay?" I called out, my voice breaking the silence between us.

She froze, her eyes darting up to meet mine. For a moment, she looked just as startled as I was.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, sitting up with surprising grace despite the mess she'd just made. She wiped more mud off her face, flashing a wide, somewhat sheepish grin. "I'm fine! Absolutely fine. Totally clumsy, you know, but fine."

I raised an eyebrow as I moved closer, instinctively keeping Echo at my side. The dog sniffed the air but didn't react aggressively, which told me a lot about her.

She gestured toward her scattered basket, which was now half-open and spilling with wildflowers, berries, and roots. "I—uh—might've been a bit too enthusiastic in my foraging today," she admitted, a bit of embarrassment creeping into her voice. "But, hey, this is the forest we're talking about. You can't blame me for getting excited over the tiniest patch of edible plants."

"I see," I said cautiously, taking in her disheveled appearance. Despite the muddy fall, her energy was… infectious. It was as if she had an unlimited well of enthusiasm, a strange contrast to the exhaustion that had started to creep into my own bones over the past few weeks.

She tilted her head and offered a genuine, though slightly crooked smile. "I'm Alice, by the way!" she said, dusting off the front of her shirt and standing up. "Sorry, didn't mean to make a scene. You know, just a little clumsy."

I couldn't help but smile back, despite myself. She was so disarming in her clumsiness, like an open book with nothing to hide. There was a sense of... simplicity to her. A contrast to the dark, harsh world I'd become used to.

"I'm Toni," I said, a bit more guarded now. "What are you doing out here, Alice? It's dangerous, even for someone who knows the forest."

She blinked, surprised, but didn't seem offended. "Dangerous? Well, yeah. There are some things out here that aren't too friendly, I guess." Her smile faltered for a moment as her gaze flickered toward the trees. But then, just as quickly, it returned, brighter than before. "But, you know, I've been doing this for a while. The forest has its rules, and if you follow them, it's not too bad."

I gave her a skeptical look. "The forest has rules?"

Alice nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, absolutely. I've got this rhythm, you see? It's about knowing when to be still, when to move, when to speak to the trees. Trust me, nature's got its way of letting you know what's what." She reached down and picked up the basket, her fingers lightly brushing the plants inside as though they were precious things. "Like these berries here? Totally safe. Some people get them confused with the poisonous ones, but I know the difference. I've had a lot of practice."

I raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. She didn't look like she was lying.

"Anyway," Alice continued, gesturing with a sweep of her hand, "I was just about to head out to the creek for the evening. It's a peaceful spot, good for setting up camp. You should come! I could use the company."

I hesitated. My instinct was to be cautious—trust no one, especially in the wilderness where dangers lurked around every corner. But there was something about Alice. Her openness. Her genuine, if slightly messy, warmth.

"Sure," I said, finally. "I'll follow you."

"Great!" Alice's eyes lit up as she turned, her messy hair bouncing with each step. She didn't seem concerned with the possibility of danger or the unknown. "It's just over this way," she called back to me as she started walking. "And you can't miss the view! It's like the world just opens up and you can see everything."

I fell into step behind her, watching the way she moved through the forest. She was confident, sure-footed despite the occasional stumble, and there was an infectious energy to her every motion.

Echo trotted along at my side, his ears perked up as he followed Alice with quiet interest. It was almost as if he trusted her too, though he was always cautious around new people. That fact didn't escape me.

The deeper we moved into the forest, the more I started to feel something I hadn't in a long time: a sense of ease. Alice's presence was a strange comfort, her clumsy nature almost grounding in a way I hadn't realized I needed.

Eventually, the sound of rushing water reached my ears. The creek was ahead, its banks lined with smooth stones and clusters of wildflowers. The air smelled fresh and clean, the scent of damp earth mingling with the sweetness of the flowers. A soft breeze stirred the leaves above, and the sun broke through the clouds, casting a warm, golden glow on the scene.

Alice stopped at the water's edge and dropped her basket beside a large rock, turning to face me with that same grin. "Here we are. Home sweet home for the night." She gestured to the space around her, where she had already set up a small, makeshift camp.

I took in the surroundings—a cozy little spot by the creek, with a fire pit carefully dug into the dirt and a few patches of dried grass spread out for sitting. It wasn't much, but it was peaceful.

For the first time in weeks, I felt the weight on my shoulders lessen, if only for a moment.