The moon was full.
Arvella stood at the edge of the northern tree line — the same tree line where, three months ago, an invisible force had pulled her into the forest and led her to Selena's cabin and the journal that had cracked her world open like an egg. The forest was different now. Not physically — the same ancient pines stood sentinel, the same ferns carpeted the floor, the same owl called from somewhere deep in the canopy. But the way Arvella experienced it had changed. Before the awakening, the forest had been beautiful. Now it was alive — not in the biological sense, but in the relational sense. Every tree was aware of her. Every root system beneath her feet vibrated with recognition. The forest didn't just exist around her — it oriented toward her, the way iron filings orient to
