CMooN (13): Ren Doesn’t Talk Much

The smoke didn't lead anywhere obvious.

It lingered in the spaces between trees, in the folds of her sleeves, in the edges of thought. Faint enough that she could have imagined it. But she didn't.

Mara didn't quicken her steps. She let the woods set the pace. She moved carefully, letting the sound of her boots brushing fallen leaves blend into the silence. The charm had gone quiet again, but the stone didn't feel cold anymore. Just steady.

The stream curved out of sight. She didn't follow it this time.

Instead, she turned left towards where the sun had started dipping low. Not quite dusk yet, but the color of the light was changing.

At the edge of a shallow ridge, she heard a voice.

Not from ahead. From above.

"Are you following me?"

She looked up.

Ren was perched on a large stone, knees pulled up, elbows resting on them. He wasn't smiling this time. His eyes tracked her movements without blinking.

Mara didn't answer at first. Then, "You circled back."

"I never left." He tilted his head. "I thought you were the one doing the following."

"I was."

They both stared for a moment.

Then Ren slid down from the rock and dusted off his palms. "This forest doesn't work right. I walked in a circle for over an hour, but the trees never looked the same. Everything kept shifting."

Mara didn't look surprised. "It does that sometimes."

"You say that like it's normal."

She shrugged. "Isn't it?"

He gave her a long look, then broke into a quiet laugh. "Okay. Point taken."

They walked without talking after that.

Ren didn't ask questions. He didn't explain what he was doing in the woods or where he'd come from. Mara didn't offer details either. It felt like both of them were holding something behind their backs, waiting to see who would blink first.

Eventually, he said, "That charm you keep checking… what does it do?"

She glanced at him. "It listens."

Ren raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"Sometimes it answers."

He didn't press further.

They passed another tree marked with a black symbol, this one scraped into the bark with something sharp. Not fresh, but recent. Mara slowed her pace to glance at it, but didn't stop. Ren noticed the symbol too but said nothing.

He just asked, "Have you been out here before?"

"Sort of."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I've got."

He didn't argue.

Eventually, they reached a place where the undergrowth cleared. Not a path exactly, but a natural split in the trees that made walking easier. Something about the light made it feel like it had been waiting for them.

Ren paused. "Which way?"

Mara pointed forward.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"No."

"Alright," he said. "Good enough for me."

They walked on.

Ren didn't talk much after that. Mara didn't mind. Most of her life had been spent walking alone. Having someone nearby who didn't interrupt the quiet felt strange, but not unwelcome.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye. He walked with purpose, but not direction. Like he'd spent a lot of time moving without knowing where he was going. She knew the feeling.

After a while, she asked, "Why are you really here?"

Ren didn't answer right away. Then, "Looking for someone."

"Family?"

He shook his head.

"A friend?"

He didn't nod. He didn't speak.

She let it go.

They reached another ridge, this one lower, overlooking what might have once been a garden. Stones in broken rows, vines swallowing everything. In the middle stood an old tree with pale bark. Its branches reached like arms. Something had been carved into its trunk a long time ago, but the marks were worn now.

Mara stepped closer.

The charm shifted again.

She felt it before she heard it.

A voice, low and familiar. Not from outside.

From memory.

It said, You've stood here before.

She didn't say anything aloud.

But in her head, she thought, No. I haven't.

The voice didn't reply.

Ren stepped beside her. "What is this place?"

She looked at the worn carvings. "Another piece."

"Of what?"

"I don't know yet."

She sat near the tree.

Ren didn't ask why. He sat a little distance away, not too close, not too far.

The wind passed lightly through the clearing.

Neither of them spoke again until the sky began to change.