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You know when your grandparents would tell you tales of the mythical creatures that lived in the forest near your village, trying to scare you out of ever wandering inside it? You know when they’d tell you about the vicious humanoid creatures that would lure people to their deaths to eat them, and would then turn that story into the good old “don’t trust strangers” sermon? And you know how you’d then grow up to never step foot in that forest because, as you grew into adulthood, you realized that while those creatures probably don’t exist, the forest still harbors pretty dangerous animals that could definitely kill you if you ever encountered them?
No, of course you don’t. That’s why you’re here.
Ever since you were a child, you had been so fascinated by the mythology that surrounded the forest your village seemed to avoid like the plague. Tales of werewolves, vampires, harpies, mermaids, sirens… all out to kill you, according to your grandmother, but pretty neat nonetheless. No matter how much she’d try to scare you with her stories, the most she’d get from you is a look of wide-eyed marvel. At some point, she stopped telling you about mythical carnivorous creatures though, quickly noticing that you weren’t growing as fearful as you should, and switched to talking about evil hermits that lived in the woods and would steal you from your family. That did the trick.
Still, as an adult, you can’t help but wonder about that forest. You’d say you’re beyond believing in fairytales, but there must be a reason as to why the entirety of your village stays away from that forest. And considering the fact that most people were pretty agile with a crossbow, chances are that it wasn’t wolves and bears keeping them out. A part of you, so morbidly curious, wanted to find out.
And the rest of you wanted to explore that forest just because most of your relatives told you not to.
Which is how you found yourself in this… less than favorable situation. You initially thought you had been smart with your planning; in your head, you’d progressively venture further into the forest, day by day. You’d start the first day by taking a walk along the edge of the forest to test out the terrain. Then on day two, you’d wander in. Just a little bit, and then you’d get back out. On day three, you’d explore a little more… and so on, so forth. In your head, at the end of every day, you’d come back home and act like none of this happened. The plan was supposed to be flawless. Except you’d forgotten to take into account two of your major flaws; your overeagerness and your non-existent lack of orientation. You hadn’t lasted more than five minutes on the outskirts of the forest, on day one, before walking directly into it, eager to see more.
Because, well, a forest can’t be endless and at some point you’d have to come out on the other side. Or you could always turn around and walk back in the direction you came from (you can’t. You really can’t).
You have to say though, the forest was beautiful. Truly breathtaking. The trees are big, yet spaced out comfortably enough so that you can walk without feeling too encumbered by their proximity. They stretch out towards the sky like giants reaching out to scratch at the heavens, canopy fanning out perfectly despite their height. It blocks the majority of the sun, allowing only the softest of rays through. You feel cool in here; protected from the harsh and hot sunlight. The forest ground, littered in fallen leaves, twigs and plants, has a faint golden glow from the minimal sunlight. It’s astonishing that things can actually grow in the ground here, considering that most of the rain must be selfishly absorbed by the towering giants that are trees here. It gives you some sense of security. Like this forest isn’t harsh in the slightest. It gives everything inside it an equal chance at survival.
You’re so enraptured by the beauty that surrounds you that you don’t even realize you’re lost until all you can see all around you is vegetation. This far in, birds chirp with no inhibitions. As if they themselves know that humankind, the ones who hunt them for fun and for survival, could never find them here. The budding sounds of nature, untouched by your kind, is what makes you realize that you might be knee-deep in shit. You can’t tell where you came from anymore. And by god, you do not know how to use the sun to get back home. Plus, it’s not like you can actually see it. It’s kind of hidden by the trees.
A looming sense of doom wells up inside you despite the calming effect of the forest. Your throat feels like it’s closing on its own as your breathing grows heavier. You can hear your thundering heartbeat, a lot quicker than it was mere moments ago, loud in your ears. You have no decent plan that’ll save you from this. Hell, you didn’t even bring anything with you, considering the fact that you were supposed to just take a trek along the periphery of the forest.
The forest seems brighter now. Though you’re confused and definitely hyper aware of your surroundings to a point where it’s kind of making you dizzy and sick, you feel like you see more. There’s a birch tree nearby with its bark missing. There’s a bird nest in a nearby chestnut tree. The forest floor a few meters ahead of you seems to dip down a bit. Despite hearing your blood rushing through your ears with every pump of your heart, you hear a rushing sound. Akin to that of your blood, but calmer. Languid. Like water.
Where there’s water, there’s usually a river. And rivers are pathways out of forests, aren’t they?
With unsteady feet, you begin to trek forward, holding your breath in an attempt to try and figure out from which direction the sounds came from. They’re so faint that you’re surprised you even picked them up.
It’s as you thought; the terrain does dip downwards into a barely noticeable hill. You let yourself fall forward, each footfall catching you before you actually take a nosedive into the forest floor. The sound of water begins to grow. It soothes you a bit, to know that you’ll at least find something to stick by. The fact that you might be stuck in here during the night still terrifies you though. But, akin to the way you’re trying not to goddamn yourself down this hill, one step at a time.
Not too far ahead of you, you can see the way the sunshine permeates through the canopy of trees. There’s so much leaking through that you can tell the trees are thinning out, somehow. There aren’t as many over there as there are here. The river must be nearby.
Your feet finally strike flat ground as you push yourself forward, eager to finally see it. The sounds of water clapping against a shore becomes louder. You can smell the distinct scent of mud. Ahead of you, the trees thin out into nothing at all. You cross the threshold, stopping in front of a swamp of some sort. Your eyes scan the outline of the water. You can’t see what it sources from. No rivers, no streams. Just… quiet waters.
Slightly panting, you decide to take a stroll around it. Maybe you just missed something. A swamp can’t just appear out of nowhere in the middle of a forest. The water has to come from somewhere… But no matter how much you walk (your shoes are ruined with mud by now), you just can’t find it. But you could have sworn you had heard rushing water before. Yet, you don’t hear any now. Had your panicked brain just made it up earlier? Surely it couldn’t have.
Shoulders sagging with disappointment, you stop your pacing to stare at the calm, azure waters of the swamp. The sun overhead, now starting to disappear into the tree branches, shines down on it in a way that makes the small waves in the swamp glitter with each calm sway. There’s a few boulders off on one side of the swamp that creates an opening in which water flows freely. A cave of some sort, maybe. The water may come from an underground source. The cave could have amplified the sound of rushing water earlier, causing you to mistake it for an open-air river. But then again, if that were the case, why can’t you hear it right now?
You hear the distinct sound of water rippling in the swamp, causing you to snap your head towards the source of the noise. You watch as the surface undulates from whatever caused it to break, but you can’t see anything underneath. No fish, no animals. You frown ever so slightly at the sight, eyes nearly straining to stare down into the water. You can feel the exhaustion from your day begin to settle in.
So far, you haven't encountered anything other than a few birds here and there. Not a single predator had crossed your path (unless you were being stalked and hunted right now, which you were then completely oblivious to). Would it be too insane on your part to simply retreat back to somewhere less muddy and sleep there for the night? Yes, your back will make you regret it in the morning, but at least you could get some rest before trying to find a way out of here.
No matter how dangerous your idea may be, sleep sounded like heaven to you right now. You could gather a pile of leaves to try and make yourself more comfortable on the forest floor, if you really needed it. A shudder of disgust traveled down your spine as you remembered that bugs are a thing, but no matter how you looked at the situation, you’d have to put up with bugs anyway. You might as well swallow down your fear and put up with them for the night.
You were tugged away from your planning session when the water rippled again, this time much closer to you. You quickly turn your head towards the swamp, eyes scanning the water once more. Your blood ran cold when your gaze fell on another’s. Wet, blonde bangs clinging to somebody’s forehead and piercing hazel eyes stared at you. You could see the bridge of his nose as well, but the rest of him remained distorted by the water that covered his face. You could see fair skin under the surface, where he was either treading water or simply standing, depending on how tall he was.
You’re frozen. You can’t speak, you can’t move. You can’t even breathe. There’s something inhuman about him. Your lack of knowledge forces you into paralysis, fearful that anything you do in front of him might endanger you. After all, you were very scared of antisocial hermits that lived in the woods, courtesy of your grandmother.
The eyes boring into yours crinkle at the edges, as if he’s smiling. Slowly, the man emerges from the water. His long, wet blonde hair clings to his naked chest as he rises. Thankfully, he’s wearing what seem to be loose white pants that fall low on his hips. You don’t understand how, but the pants don’t even seem wet.
However, the pants are the least of your problems right now.
Where you were once frozen in fear, you’re now frozen in pure astonishment.
The setting sun casts its golden glow on what you can only describe as the most beautiful man you’ve ever had the pleasure of setting your sight on. He’s thin and lithe, yet not sickly so. His figure is so graceful that you could easily mistake him for some sort of demigod, or maybe a god of beauty. His eyes, once something that made your blood freeze in your veins, is now causing it to rush to your cheeks, making them burn. Their intense gaze remains fixated on yours as he grins, teeth white and straight. The sight of such a charming smirk sets something positively searing alight in you, low in the pit of your stomach. You know damn well you’ve never reacted this strongly to somebody before.
“What do we have here?” His voice sounds like honey to your ears, nonchalant, easygoing with the smallest hint of a vocal fry. “A lost little lamb, it seems.” He adds, all too smug as he takes in how positively smitten you are with him already.
“I’m not lost,” you reply, mentally kicking yourself for even interacting with him. You know better than to talk to strangers. Especially strangers in the woods. Whether he’s an antisocial hermit or some sort of cannibalistic mythical creature, it’s the same thing; you don’t fucking talk to it. Yet, your mind seems frazzled by the sound of his voice and the sheer beauty he’s assaulting you with, and despite your best efforts, you can’t just not answer him. It’s like there’s something literally stopping you from controlling the way you behave around him.
Still, at least you’re trying your best not to make yourself too vulnerable. A part of you hopes that you don’t look lost to him. That’d just make you seem even more vulnerable. And you don’t know what he’d do with that type of information. But you kind of want to know what he’d do if– No. No, you don’t.
The blonde man chuckles as he steps forward, walking onto the dry land. You stand your ground until he’s just a few feet away from you. That’s when you begin to take a step back with every step he takes forward, desperate to keep some distance between the two of you, but he doesn’t seem fond of that. His strides increase in distance, quickly closing the gap between the two of you. You can’t breathe with him this close to you. Your mind feels fuzzy. You can’t hear yourself think. There’s a primal part of you that just wants to go belly-up for him, bear your neck to him and hope he’ll go easy on you if you do.
The very thought of it has your stomach doing flips. When the hell did you get this fucking deranged? Surely this can’t be you.
The man clicks his tongue, raising a hand towards your face. He extends his index finger, gently pressing it against the underside of your chin. You can feel his long, sharp nail (should you call it a claw at this point?) pressing against the tender flesh underneath your jaw. You wonder if he could cut you with that singular nail, deep enough to make you bleed viscerally onto his hand.
“You seem as frightened as a fawn that lost its mother, sweetheart.” The man replies all too smugly. He definitely has a vocal fry and you think it should bother you, but instead, every time he speaks, you can almost feel the vibrations of his voice in your chest. His finger drags along the underside of your chin before tracing your jawline, torturously slow. “There’s no shame in being lost. If you can’t find your way back home, you can just find a new home.”
His eyes scan you unashamedly. His words resonate in your scarily empty mind, as if he were the only thing you should focus on. You can barely remember where you came from. All you can do is look at him. You feel like you’re being suffocated by his beauty. The orange light of the setting sun makes his damp blonde hair practically glow. When he speaks, you can swear you see a glint of metal in his mouth, whatever that may be. All you know is that it draws your attention to his tongue and makes your mind reel with what he could do with it.
You really want to bear your neck to him and let him drag the flat of his tongue against your throat.
After he’s done giving you quite the lengthy assessment, something in his eyes seems to shift. Ever since you spotted his gaze above the waterline, he had some sort of predatory glint in those hazel eyes of his. Now, that threatening gleam has softened into… something else. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but it does subconsciously lull you into a false sense of security. Or maybe that’s his doing. You can’t really tell, at this point.
“Do you have a home, little lamb?” He asks in a soft, almost concerned tone. His words resonate in your empty skull (or well, that’s how it feels right now). You can’t quite process them before you feel your lips move and your vocal cords vibrate as you answer him quite literally against your will.
“No.” But you swear you do! You don’t… you can’t exactly recall much other than him right now, but you… you must have a home, right? You’re lost, yes, but… you don’t know anymore. You’re lost, in every sense of the word. Falling into emptiness with nothing to clutch to, nothing to ground yourself with. You’re desperate to find something to hold onto, just so you can stop feeling so disoriented, even if it’s for a fleeting moment.
“That’s alright. You don’t gotta be lost anymore.” He replies in a crooning tone. “I don’t have a home either. You can stay here with me, can’t you?” The blonde man’s hand gently cups your cheek and you find yourself leaning into his touch without much shame. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment. His skin feels so soft and warm.
It feels like home.