Emmanuel Salvador Papa
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21 - Damp Forest
🕑 Added 2025-09-27 07:40:06 +0000 UTCThe forest swallowed her whole.
It had been two days since Luna crossed paths with the five knights in the rain, and the road had led her into the quiet shade of a woodland that stretched further than her eyes could see.
Even under the late morning sun, the canopy was so thick that the light fractured into ribbons of green and gold. Every breath tasted faintly of moss and rain-soaked bark.
The storm had passed, but its memory lingered. The earth still held dampness, soft and pliant beneath her boots.
Droplets clung stubbornly to leaves, dripping at irregular intervals like the ticking of a water clock. The air itself felt heavy, laden with the scent of loam and the musk of mushrooms hidden in shadow.
Luna tugged lightly at the strap of her bag and hummed to herself, though her tune lacked commitment. It was less a melody and more a way to fill the silence.
“Cheer up, me,” she murmured under her breath. “It’s just trees. Lots and lots of trees.”
The forest wasn’t lifeless—birds trilled from high branches, and cicadas buzzed unseen—but to her, it felt quiet in a different way. A stillness that left her both curious and restless.
She kept mostly to the road, but every so often something caught her eye—a strangely patterned fungus, the gleam of dew on a spiderweb, or a butterfly with wings like stained glass.
Each time, she wandered off, crouching low in the underbrush as if she might find a secret hidden in the details.
“Pretty,” she whispered once, leaning close to admire a patch of moss so lush it looked like a velvet carpet.
Another time, she wrinkled her nose at a beetle scuttling across her path. “Not you, though.”
Once, she sat cross-legged for nearly half an hour, watching two ants struggle to drag a crumb across a fallen leaf. Their determination fascinated her.
“You’re just like players farming low-level mobs,” she murmured with a chuckle. “Working so hard for something so small.”
But her distractions came with a price. By the time she returned to the path, she often found herself disoriented, turning one way and then the other before finally recognizing the subtle grooves of cart wheels pressed into the soil.
By the second day within the forest, boredom began to creep in.
Her boots scuffed against the dirt path, shoulders slouched, lips twisted in a pout. “Where are the monsters?” she muttered, kicking at a pebble that skipped a short distance before disappearing into the brush.
Her mind drifted to the game—Legends Leagues. In that world, monsters had been everywhere, filling the land like weeds in an untended garden.
From wolves prowling the edges of villages to slimes that bubbled up after rain, danger had been a constant companion.
But here? The most ferocious thing she’d encountered was a squirrel that had scolded her for walking too close to its tree.
She let out a long sigh, tilting her head back to stare at the canopy above. “This can’t be the same world. It doesn’t match.”
Her fingers toyed absently with the edge of her pouch as she thought. It was true—her body here mirrored her avatar from the game.
Same silver hair, same doll-like face, same petite frame. And her abilities were identical, if not more versatile. But the world around her…
Celestia. The Celestial Academy. The roads she had walked. None of them matched her memories of Legends Leagues. If she tried to place them on a map of the game, they simply didn’t exist.
“So maybe it isn’t the game,” she murmured. “Maybe it’s… another world entirely. And I just got dropped into it looking like my avatar.”
The thought wasn’t comforting. On one hand, it explained the absence of monsters. On the other, it meant her expectations were flawed from the start.
This world was peaceful—or at least, peaceful enough that monsters didn’t roam freely. The only exception had been the Jagged Mountain, and even that seemed like an anomaly.
She pressed her hands behind her head and walked slower, staring at the dappled sunlight on the road.
“So if I want fights, I’ll have to hunt for them. Maybe they’re hiding. Or maybe… I’ll just keep wandering until I stumble on something interesting.”
A small smile tugged at her lips despite her disappointment.
The absence of monsters didn’t mean the absence of adventure. It only meant her story would be different than she expected. And different, she decided, wasn’t bad.
That night, she camped beneath the trees.
Her sleeping bag spread across the grass, she lay on her back and gazed upward. Between the branches, stars twinkled faintly, blurred by drifting wisps of cloud. Crickets sang, their chorus rhythmic and soothing.
Luna hugged her blanket tighter around her shoulders, a quiet pang stirring in her chest. She thought of Anna.
Is she doing well? she wondered, picturing the young noble bent over a desk at the Academy, brow furrowed, quill tapping anxiously against parchment.
The image made Luna chuckle softly. “She probably overstudies for every quiz,” she whispered into the night. “I can practically hear her sighing.”
A warmth filled her chest at the thought. She missed Anna, more than she expected.
Traveling had always been her dream, her goal—but she realized now that Anna had made those early weeks brighter, easier. Without her, the road felt lonelier.
Still, Luna didn’t waver. She wanted to see the world. And she knew Anna was strong enough to manage without her.
“You’ll be fine,” she murmured, eyes drifting shut. “Just… don’t forget me, okay?”
Sleep came swiftly, and when dawn rose, she woke with a contented sigh.
“Good sleeping bag,” she mumbled, patting the fabric fondly before rolling it up and tucking it neatly into her pack.
The following morning brought new curiosities.
A flash of white darted through the underbrush as she walked, and Luna’s eyes widened. “Rabbit!” she exclaimed, her voice bright with childish glee.
Without thinking, she darted off the road, chasing after the small creature. It bounded ahead, ears flicking, paws thumping against damp soil.
Luna sprinted after it, laughter bubbling in her throat.
Of course, the rabbit was faster. It zigzagged through ferns and leapt over roots with the ease of a creature born to the forest.
Luna, on the other hand, misjudged a step and stumbled, landing unceremoniously on her knees.
“Ow—hey!” She brushed dirt from her hands and scowled at the rabbit’s retreating back. “That’s your fault!”
Determined not to lose, she narrowed her eyes. “Alright. If running won’t work…” Her fingers spread, and the air shimmered with frost.
She calculated quickly, gauging the distance and direction the rabbit would take. With a small gesture, she spread a sheet of ice across its path.
The rabbit skidded, its tiny paws slipping helplessly. It slid several feet before coming to an undignified stop, eyes wide with alarm.
Luna’s smug smile returned. She approached slowly, crouching to scoop the trembling creature into her arms.
It squirmed, its heartbeat racing, eyes darting as though it feared being devoured.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Luna teased, hugging it against her chest. “I’m not going to eat you. You just… made me trip, so I had to even the score.”
The rabbit, of course, didn’t understand. It only shivered, ears flattened tight against its head.
Her expression softened. She stroked its fur gently, then conjured a small sphere of water into her palm. “Here. Drink.”
The rabbit hesitated, nose twitching, before finally lapping at the water. Its tongue flicked against her hand, and Luna giggled with delight. “That tickles! Oh, you’re adorable.”
For a moment, she was no adventurer, no mage, no traveler of worlds—just a girl, holding a rabbit in the forest and feeling the simple joy of life.
Before releasing it, she lifted the rabbit carefully so their noses touched, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
“You’re forgiven,” she whispered, giving its head a final affectionate pat.
The rabbit wriggled free, landing lightly on the grass before bounding away. Luna watched it disappear into the brush, her heart lighter than before.
Her journey through the forest stretched longer than expected.
It should have taken three days at most, but Luna’s tendency to digress added another full day to her travel.
Each detour—whether to marvel at a cluster of wildflowers or to watch the slow crawl of beetles along a log—delayed her progress.
Still, she couldn’t regret it. Every distraction was its own adventure, and every pause made the journey richer.
By the fourth day, she finally emerged from the forest.
Ahead lay open farmland, golden fields stretching wide beneath the sun. And nestled within them, she spotted the shapes of houses and barns, smoke curling lazily from chimneys.
A village.
Her pace quickened. After days of solitude, the sight of people—even strangers—sparked a flutter of excitement in her chest.
The air felt different once Luna left the trees.
For four days she had lived in the green hush of the forest, her world reduced to trunks and leaves, shadow and filtered light. Now the horizon spread wide before her.
The sky opened into an endless expanse of blue, the sun beaming boldly overhead. A warm breeze rolled across golden fields, carrying with it the smell of tilled soil, hay, and animals.
The transition was almost startling. Luna stopped where the road broke free of the woods and let herself take it in, both arms stretching wide. “Ahh… freedom.”
Her boots crunched against gravel as she started down the road again. It sloped gently toward farmland, where patches of vegetables and grains sprawled in orderly rows.
Chickens clucked in fenced yards, cows grazed lazily, and in the distance she heard the cheerful shouts of children playing.
The village came into focus as she walked. It wasn’t small—at least not by her measure. About twenty buildings clustered together at the center, smoke curling from chimneys.
Barns and sheds dotted the fields, while the heart of the settlement held homes, a blacksmith’s workshop with its forge glowing faintly, and a squat inn with a wooden sign swinging in the breeze.
Luna slowed her steps, curiosity sparking in her chest. Life here was simple, but vibrant.
Men hauled sacks of grain from carts, women shook out laundry on lines, and an old man whittled on his porch while watching passersby.
And passersby meant her.
Heads turned as she entered the village proper.
Children pointed, their laughter quieting into whispers. Farmers paused in their work to watch her. A few women exchanged murmurs behind their hands.
None of them seemed hostile, but there was no mistaking the curiosity—and the worry—etched on their faces.
Luna knew what they saw, a small girl, silver-haired and alone, walking with the ease of someone who belonged nowhere in particular.
To them she was probably a lost child, a runaway, or perhaps some noble’s daughter who had wandered too far.
Her lips pressed into a thin smile, cheeks warming under the weight of their stares.
“Don’t mind me,” she muttered under her breath. “Just passing through.”
The inn was easy to spot. A broad building of stone and timber, it sat at the edge of the village square.
Its door stood open, letting out the mingled scents of smoke, roasted meat, and freshly baked bread. A sign hung above the door, etched with a simple carving of a wheat sheaf.
Luna’s stomach growled the moment the smell hit her. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until now.
Inside, the inn felt cozy.
A small lounge with wooden tables and benches filled the first floor, where a handful of villagers sat eating and chatting in low voices.
A hearth crackled in the corner, its fire warming the space despite the late afternoon sun.
The air buzzed faintly with conversation, clinking cutlery, and the scrape of boots against the floor.
Luna drifted toward the counter, her nose twitching as the savory scent of stew wafted from the kitchen.
Behind the counter stood a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, her brown hair tied neatly in a braid. She was wiping down mugs when her gaze lifted—and lingered—on Luna.
Her brows arched slightly, curiosity flashing in her eyes. But before she could ask anything, Luna piped up,
“Um. Can I eat here?”
The woman blinked. Then her lips curved into a smile, equal parts warmth and intrigue.
“Of course you can, little one. Have a seat.” She pulled a menu from beneath the counter and slid it across.
Luna perched on one of the stools by the counter, her legs swinging freely above the floor. She studied the menu with a seriousness that would have looked comical to anyone watching.
“Hmm… stew, bread, pie…” Her mouth watered just reading the words. She hadn’t had anything hearty in days—only jerky, biscuits, and sweets.
Her choice was easy. “I’ll have the stew, please.”
“Good choice,” the woman said, her smile widening. “That’ll be eight coins.”
Luna counted out the coins from her pouch and placed them neatly on the counter. The woman gave her another curious glance as she collected them, but said nothing more as she disappeared into the kitchen.
When the stew arrived, Luna’s eyes widened.
The bowl steamed, its surface flecked with herbs. Chunks of tender meat bobbed among carrots and potatoes, the broth thick and fragrant. She clasped her spoon eagerly and took her first sip.
Warmth bloomed across her tongue, spreading through her chest and down into her stomach. It was rich, comforting, and absolutely delicious.
“Mmm,” she murmured, cheeks puffing as she chewed. “Not sweets, but… nice for a change.”
She ate in silence for a while, savoring each bite. The young woman behind the counter watched discreetly, wiping mugs though her eyes kept returning to the unusual child before her.
When Luna’s bowl was half-empty, she finally lifted her gaze. “Um… if I keep following this road, where does it go?”
The question caught the woman off guard. She blinked, then leaned her elbows on the counter. “It’ll take you to the Kingdom of Tierra. Though it’s far. Very far.”
Luna’s spoon paused midway to her mouth. “A kingdom?” Her eyes sparkled, all weariness forgotten. “What kind of kingdom?”
The woman hesitated, clearly not expecting such eager interest. But something in Luna’s expression—bright, intent, like a child hearing a bedtime story—drew a small laugh from her.
“Well… Tierra’s not like other kingdoms. It’s built on a mountain. In a mountain, too.”
Luna’s lips parted in wonder. “In a mountain?”
“Yes. The city sprawls along the mountain’s side, with some halls and tunnels carved directly into the rock. It’s said the very first king of Tierra was an earth mage who adored blacksmithing. He built his workshop on the peak of that mountain. Over time, people gathered there—traders, apprentices, families. The workshop became a town, then a city. Eventually, a kingdom.”
The woman’s voice softened, her eyes distant with imagination.
“They say King Tierra’s forge still rests at the peak of the mountain, preserved for generations. His descendants kept building, stone upon stone, until the mountain itself became their fortress.”
Luna leaned forward, chin resting on her hands, her stew forgotten. “That’s… amazing. A whole kingdom built on and inside a mountain.” Her tone brimmed with awe. “I have to see it.”
The woman chuckled again, charmed by her enthusiasm. “It’s a long road, little one. But if your feet are as eager as your eyes, you’ll get there.”
Neither noticed how the light outside had faded, dusk settling across the village. Shadows stretched across the floor, and lanterns flickered to life one by one.
The woman glanced at the window and blinked.
“Oh dear, it’s later than I thought. I still have work to do.” She set down her rag, straightening. “Forgive me—I enjoyed talking with you, but I must get back to my tasks.”
Luna blinked, then hurriedly shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I kept you too long.”
“Not at all.” The woman’s smile softened, genuine. “It was nice, actually. I don’t often get to share stories about Tierra.”
Luna hesitated, then asked shyly, “Do you have rooms here? For the night?”
“Of course.” The woman listed the price, and Luna paid without hesitation—though she added two hundred coins extra.
The woman’s eyes widened. “This is far too much.”
Luna only smiled faintly, sliding the pouch across. “Consider it thanks. For the story.”
The woman looked at her as though words had caught in her throat. But before she could reply, Luna picked up her bag and padded quietly toward the stairs.
The room was simple. A narrow bed with clean sheets, a wooden chair, and a small table by the window.
Luna dropped her bag to the floor and pushed the shutters open.
The night stretched vast and clear, stars glimmering above fields that rustled softly in the breeze.
For a moment, she stood there silently, her reflection faint in the glass, her heart steady but full.
“A kingdom in a mountain,” she whispered to herself. “I want to see it.”
The thought sparked excitement that swirled inside her chest like fireflies. Tomorrow, she would walk again. And with every step, she would draw closer to Tierra.
Smiling, she pulled the blanket around herself and slipped into bed.
Sleep claimed her easily, her dreams filled with mountains carved into palaces of stone and firelit forges echoing in the deep.
