Red Wine
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3rd Pov
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As days turned into weeks and weeks into months and months turned into years, Sprout and Cosmo’s bond grew stronger with each passing encounter. The clearing at the west edge of the forest became their sanctuary, a world far removed from the expectations and fears of the village. Cosmo often arrived first, his tail swishing lazily as he carried a basket of freshly baked treats. Pastries of all kinds a medley of golden croissants, fruit-filled tarts, and chocolate-drizzled éclairs were his signature offerings.
Sprout eagerly awaited these moments. He had grown bold enough to experiment with baking himself, determined to match Cosmo’s skill. At first, his creations were clumsy: cookies that crumbled at a touch, bread that came out more brick than loaf. But Cosmo never laughed. Instead, he offered gentle advice, his golden eyes sparkling with encouragement.
“Try using a little less flour,” Cosmo would suggest, nibbling thoughtfully on a too-dense scone. “Baking’s all about balance, you’ll see.”
Their shared love for pastries evolved into friendly competitions. They picked a dessert an intricate lemon tart, a delicate mille-feuille and challenged one another to recreate it. The results were anonymously distributed among the villagers for taste-testing. Sprout would return, beaming, with feedback.
“Mrs. Green loved the lemon tart,” Sprout reported one day, though a slight pout tugged at his lips. “But she said the crust on one was a little soggy. That was mine, wasn’t it?”
Cosmo chuckled, his ears flicking. “Maybe. But hey, at least she liked the filling!”
Their laughter echoed through the clearing, blending with the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of birds.
It wasn’t just baking that brought them together. Sprout had grown curious about wolves, an interest that drove him to visit the library in secret. He poured over books, flipping through tales of wolves as cunning hunters, protectors, and, sometimes, terrifying beasts. The myths that once filled him with fear now sparked fascination. He’d carry these stories back to Cosmo, who would often laugh and debunk the wildest claims.
“Wolves turning into mist to steal children? That’s absurd,” Cosmo snorted one afternoon, lounging in the grass. “We don’t need magic to survive. Just teamwork and a bit of cunning.”
Sprout listened with rapt attention as Cosmo shared stories of his pack how they communicated through howls, how they respected the rhythms of the forest.
“Every sound has meaning,” Cosmo explained, his voice dipping into a low, melodic hum. “A howl isn’t just a call; it’s a song, a message.”
Fascinated, Sprout begged for a demonstration. Cosmo obliged, throwing back his head to let out a long, resonant howl that seemed to vibrate through the trees. Sprout clapped his hands in delight, feeling the forest itself come alive.
As the days passed, the tension in Sprout’s home thickened like the mist that blanketed the forest each morning. His parents’ pointed questions became sharper, their worried glances more frequent. The forest, once a place of wonder and solace, now felt like a forbidden realm one his parents clearly believed was teeming with danger.
One evening, as the family gathered for dinner, the topic resurfaced. Sprout had barely touched his stew when his mother broke the silence.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time in the woods,” she said, her voice carefully measured but tinged with worry.
Sprout kept his eyes on his plate, forcing a shrug. “Just exploring, that’s all. It’s not like I’m going deep in or anything.”
His mother’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It isn’t safe, Sprout. What if you run into… something?”
“Like what?” he asked, his voice cracking despite his attempt to sound casual.
“Wolves,” his father interjected, his tone firm and unyielding. “They’re unpredictable, dangerous. You’ve heard the stories. I don’t want to lose you to those beasts.”
Sprout swallowed hard, guilt churning in his stomach. How could he explain that the forest, once a place of fear, now felt like home? That Cosmo, a wolf, was his closest friend and had only ever shown him kindness?
“I’m careful,” Sprout muttered, poking at his food. “I stay near the edge, I swear.”
The tension in the room was suffocating, thick enough to cut with a knife. Sprout stared at his plate, pushing the food around as his father’s words echoed in his ears. His mother sat stiffly across from him, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped her tea cup.
Henry, his father, had risen from his chair, his voice rising with each word. “Careful isn’t enough! You don’t know what those wolves are capable of, Sprout. They’re not like the creatures in your little stories they’re predators. To them, you’re just prey.”
The slam of his mug against the wooden table made Sprout flinch. The sound reverberated through the small kitchen, the fire in the hearth flickering with the movement of air.
“Henry, that’s enough!” Maria, his mother, finally interjected. Her voice trembled, but there was steel in her gaze as she looked up at her husband. “He’s just a boy. Let him be a boy. Don’t fill his head with all this fear.”
Henry turned to her, his expression dark and unyielding. “It’s not fear, Maria it’s reality. You’ve forgotten what happened to my sister, haven’t you?”
The room fell silent. The mention of his aunt a name spoken only in hushed whispers sent a chill down Sprout’s spine. He dared to glance at his mother, who had gone pale.
“I haven’t forgotten,” she said softly, but her voice rose with conviction. “But dragging Sprout into this forcing him to hunt isn’t the answer. He’s just a child, Henry!”
Henry’s jaw clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped the back of his chair. “And that’s exactly why he needs to learn,” he snapped. “The world isn’t kind, Maria. It won’t coddle him. Those wolves didn’t care about my sister’s age. They won’t care about his. If we don’t prepare him, we’re just waiting for history to repeat itself.”
Sprout’s stomach churned violently. The thought of holding a weapon, of targeting the creatures he had come to admire even love felt like a betrayal of everything he held dear.
Maria pushed her chair back suddenly, the legs scraping against the floor. “No child should have to carry that burden,” she said, her voice breaking. Tears glistened in her eyes, but her posture was unshaken.
Henry’s gaze softened for a moment, but his resolve didn’t falter. “He needs to understand the dangers, Maria,” he said quietly. “Whether we like it or not, this is the world we live in. I won’t let him face it unprepared.”
Maria’s tears spilled over, and she set her tea down with trembling hands. “I may hate those wolves at times,” she said, her voice low but fierce, “but this isn’t about hatred. It’s about morality. What you’re doing, Henry, is… pitiful.”
“Pitiful?” Henry’s voice rose again, his anger reigniting. “You pity those foul beasts that killed my sister? My sister, Maria! Have you forgotten that you married into a family of werewolf hunters? It’s in Sprout’s blood, and it’s time he embraces it!”
The words stung like a slap, and Sprout felt hot tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He blinked rapidly, refusing to let them fall. He couldn’t let them see how torn he was, how desperately he wanted to protect Cosmo while still honoring his family.
As his parents continued to argue, their voices blending into a cacophony of anger and sorrow, Sprout quietly slipped from the table. He grabbed his red hood, now more of a comfort than a shield, and snuck out into the cool night air.
The village buzzed the next morning with grim news. A farmer’s chicken coop had been raided, the evidence pointing to wolves. Broken wood, scattered feathers, and deep claw marks painted a grim picture.
“They’re getting bolder,” the farmer muttered to a small crowd. “Too close to the village. Something needs to be done.”
By the time Sprout returned home, his father was already at the dinner table, speaking with a determined tone.
“They’re crossing the line,” Henry said grimly. “We’ll have to act before it’s too late. Traps are the only solution.”
Sprout froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Traps?” he asked, his voice trembling. “Isn’t that… dangerous?”
Henry’s sharp gaze pinned him in place. “Not as dangerous as letting them roam free,” he said, his voice firm. “I won’t risk losing anyone else. Not again.”
Maria, who had been silent up until now, suddenly slammed her spoon down, her voice trembling with anger. “This has to stop, Henry!” she cried. “You’re letting your past cloud your judgment. Wolves are part of the forest, part of the balance. They’re not the monsters you make them out to be!”
Henry’s face darkened. “Not monsters? Tell Henry’s face contorted with a mix of rage and pain, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. “Not monsters? Tell that to my sister!” he thundered, his fists clenching at his sides. “Tell that to the families who’ve lost their livestock, their children! Wolves don’t care about balance, Maria. They care about survival, and they’ll stop at nothing. And neither will I.”
His eyes turned toward Sprout, sharp and unyielding. “You’re old enough now,” he said, his tone firm and resolute. “It’s time you learned how to hunt. We’ll start tomorrow at dawn.”
Sprout felt the words hit him like a physical blow, his chest tightening as his breath grew shallow. “Hunt?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I ”
“No buts!” Henry barked, cutting him off. “It’s time you understood what it means to protect this family. You think the forest is safe? It’s not. You think wolves are your friends? They’re not. This is survival, Sprout, and you have to grow up sometime.”
Maria rose to her feet abruptly, the legs of her chair scraping harshly against the wooden floor. Her hands slammed down on the table, and her voice, though trembling with emotion, was unwavering. “No!” she shouted, her eyes blazing with anger. “No child of mine will go through that. Do you hear me, Henry? He’s just a boy!”
The tension in”the room was suffocating. Sprout’s heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the two of them, locked in a battle of wills. He couldn’t bear to hear any more, couldn’t bear the thought of what the morning might bring. He needed to warn Cosmo but how? It was dangerous to go into the forest at this hour. The Big Bads could be out there, prowling, waiting for prey. If he went now, he’d risk himself. But if he didn’t, Cosmo could be the one in danger.
His mind raced as he slipped away from the table, his parents’ argument fading into the background. He needed a plan, but all he had was fear and desperation.
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Cosmo’s POV
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The soft glow of moonlight streamed through the small, rounded window of my cottage, illuminating the peach cobbler I’d just pulled from the oven. Its warm, sugary scent filled the room, but my attention was elsewhere. My gaze was fixed on the moon, its pale light casting a serene glow across the clearing outside.
The moon was more than just a celestial body to my pack it was our guide, our protector, our namesake. We called ourselves The Moon because its light led us through the darkness, both literally and metaphorically. Tonight, its glow felt comforting, like a soft reassurance in the quiet stillness of the forest.
I was pulled from my thoughts by a familiar voice calling out to me. “Cosmo!”
I turned to see my older sister, Gigi, standing in the doorway. Her usually poised figure looked worn and battered, her fur matted with dirt and dried blood from the day’s hunt. Despite her exhaustion, she managed a weak smile, though her ears drooped with fatigue.
“Gigi!” I said, rushing over to her. My tail wagged instinctively, though concern quickly took over. “You look terrible! What happened out there?”
She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “The usual,” she replied, her voice tinged with weariness. “Long day, too many traps, and not enough prey. Can you be a dear and grab some medicine and food? My body is aching from today’s expedition.”
Her ears drooped further as she spoke, and I felt a pang of sympathy. “Of course!” I said quickly, my voice cheerful to mask my worry. I headed toward the cabinet, pulling out a small bundle of herbs and ointments, along with a cloth to clean her wounds.
I handed her the items and guided her to sit near the fireplace. “Here, let me help,” I said, carefully applying the ointment to the cuts on her arms. “You really should be more careful, Gigi. You always push yourself too hard.”
She smiled faintly, her eyes softening as she looked at me. “And you’re always too kind, Cosmo. You’re wasted as a healer, you know. You’d make an excellent scout.”
I shook my head, my ears flicking dismissively. “I like helping people. I don’t need to be out there hunting or scouting. I’d rather make sure everyone comes home safe.”
Gigi chuckled softly, though her face twisted in pain as I tightened the bandage around her arm. “You’ve got a good heart, little brother,” she murmured, her voice gentle but weary. “Too good for this world, maybe.”
Her words hung in the air, wrapping around me like the glow of the firelight. I glanced at her, noticing the way her exhaustion seemed to seep into her very bones. She alwayss carried so much, far more than I thought was fair.
I pushed the thought aside and returned to the peach cobbler cooling on the counter. Carefully slicing a piece, I placed it on a small plate and brought it to her. “Here,” I said softly, holding it out. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”
Her expression brightened at the sight of the dessert, her tired eyes softening as she accepted the plate. She took a bite, and the smile that spread across her face was enough to ease some of the tension in my chest.
“This is amazing, Cosmo,” she said between bites, her voice tinged with genuine gratitude. “You really do have a gift. Thank you.”
I sat down beside her, watching as she ate with quiet appreciation. The room was warm and peaceful, the only sounds the crackle of the fire and the occasional chirp of crickets outside. But even in this moment of calm, my thoughts were elsewhere drifting to Sprout.
Was he safe? The forest had felt… different lately. The usual rhythm of nature had been disrupted, replaced by a tension I couldn’t quite explain. My ears flicked toward the window, catching the faint rustle of leaves in the distance.
“What’s wrong?” Gigi asked, her voice pulling me back to the room. She was watching me carefully, her brow furrowed.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, shaking my head. “The forest feels strange. Like something’s off.”
She nodded slowly, setting the plate down beside her. “It’s the traps,” she said grimly.
My ears perked up. “Traps?” I repeated, my stomach twisting. “What traps? I haven’t seen any in the forest.”
Gigi sighed, leaning back against the chair. “They’ve been set up near the eastern edge, close to the human village,” she explained. “Hunters must’ve placed them recently. They’ve killed off a lot of our prey and worse, they’ve injured some of our pack.”
My tail, which had been wagging faintly, stilled. A cold wave of dread washed over me. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I asked, my voice rising slightly. “If I’d known, I could’ve helped…”
“You’re not a hunter, Cosmo,” Gigi said, her tone firm but kind. “You’re a healer. We didn’t want to drag you into this.”
“But that’s not fair!” I protested, my claws digging lightly into the armrest of the chair. “If there are traps out there, I need to know. What if someone else gets hurt? What if it’s worse next time?”
Gigi reached out, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I know you want to help,” she said gently. “That’s who you are, and that’s why we all love you. But this isn’t your fight, Cosmo. Let us handle it.”
I bit my lip, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “What do the humans even want?” I asked, my voice quieter now. “Why are they doing this?”
“They’re scared,” Gigi replied, her gaze distant. “They think we’re a threat. And maybe we are, in some ways. But that fear makes them dangerous. It makes them reckless.”
I looked down at my hands, the reality of her words settling heavily in my chest. Fear was powerful. It could make people do terrible things.
As the firelight flickered across the room, I thought of Sprout again. What if he was caught in the middle of this? What if he got hurt because of the humans’ fear or because of mine?
Gigi seemed to sense my unease. “Hey,” she said, her voice softening. “You’re not alone in this, okay? We’ll figure it out.”
I nodded, though my mind was far from settled. The moonlight spilling through the window seemed dimmer now, the shadows outside growing longer. Something was coming I could feel it. I just didn’t know what.
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The Next Day at The Afternoon
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The next day in the afternoon, I crouched by the familiar bush near the edge of the forest, my ears twitching at every sound. The gentle hum of birds and the rustle of leaves filled the air, but none of it signaled the arrival of Sprout. I had been waiting for a while now longer than usual. The golden sunlight filtering through the trees was beginning to fade into a deeper amber.
Where is he? I wondered, my tail flicking nervously behind me. Sprout was never this late. He’d always been so punctual, bounding up with that bright, curious smile of his. But today, the minutes felt like hours.
I shifted uncomfortably, my paw brushing against the soft grass. Anxiety gnawed at me, the unease from the previous night still lingering in the back of my mind. The forest didn’t feel right anymore, and now Sprout’s absence only amplified that feeling.
Maybe something’s holding him up, I thought, trying to reassure myself. His parents, perhaps? They were always suspicious of his time spent wandering so close to the woods.
But what if it wasn’t just his parents? What if he was in trouble?
My ears perked up as a faint sound reached me the crunch of footsteps on dry leaves. My heart leaped, and I leaned forward, straining to see through the undergrowth. For a moment, I thought it might be him.
But it wasn’t.
Instead, it was the heavy, deliberate tread of boots hunters. My breath hitched, and I ducked lower, flattening myself against the ground. I peered through the foliage, spotting two men carrying rifles slung over their shoulders.
Their voices were low, but I could still make out snippets of their conversation.
“Tracks lead this way,” one of them muttered, gesturing toward the direction of our special spot.
“Yeah,” the other agreed. “Let’s set a few traps here. If those wolves are lurking around, we’ll catch ’em soon enough.”
My blood ran cold. Traps. They were getting closer, moving deeper into the forest. And worse they were heading straight toward where Sprout and I spent our afternoons together.
I waited, holding my breath as the hunters continued their search, their boots crunching against the forest floor. Only when their voices faded into the distance did I dare to move again.
I bolted upright, my heart pounding. I had to find Sprout. If he came here and walked into a trap, or worse, encountered those hunters
No. I wouldn’t let that happen.
I darted through the forest, my paws skimming over roots and fallen leaves. The trees blurred past me as I raced toward the edge of the woods, hoping against hope that Sprout would be there, safe and sound.
When I reached the clearing, I stopped abruptly, my chest heaving. And there he was, standing just beyond the treeline, looking hesitant and worried.
“Sprout!” I called, relief flooding through me.
He turned toward me, his face lighting up briefly before it was replaced by a troubled expression.
“Cosmo,” he said, his voice low. He glanced around nervously, as if checking for unseen eyes. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
I stepped closer, my relief giving way to concern. “What happened? You’re never this late.”
He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “My parents… they’re starting to suspect something. They don’t want me coming here anymore.”
My ears drooped. “Because of the wolves?”
He nodded. “There was an attack near the village. My dad’s talking about setting traps.”
The words hit me like a blow to the chest. I glanced back toward the forest, where the hunters were likely laying their snares even now.
“Sprout,” I said, my voice trembling, barely holding back the tide of emotions threatening to spill over. “There are hunters in the forest. They’re setting traps near our spot. You can’t be here it’s too dangerous.”
His eyes went wide, the light in them dimming like a candle snuffed out. “Hunters?” he whispered, his voice shaky with fear. “Are you okay? Did they see you?”
“I’m fine,” I lied, though the truth burned in my chest. My heart was pounding, my paws digging into the dirt as if anchoring myself to reality. “But we can’t risk it. If they find us, if they find you ”
Sprout stepped closer, his small hands balling into fists. “I don’t care about me, Cosmo,” he said, his voice breaking. “I care about you. If they catch you, if they hurt you…” His words trailed off, his breath hitching as tears welled in his eyes.
“They won’t,” I said firmly, though the promise felt hollow. I could feel the edges of fear pressing in on me, suffocating. “I’ll be careful. I swear. But you need to stay safe too. Your parents are already suspicious. Maybe…” I swallowed hard, the words bitter on my tongue. “Maybe we shouldn’t meet here for a while.”
His face crumpled like paper, his shoulders trembling as he stared at me. “You’re saying we should stop seeing each other?”
“No!” I said quickly, my voice thick with desperation. “Not forever. Just until it’s safe again. Until the hunters move on.”
He looked down at his boots, his fingers gripping the edge of his cloak so tightly his knuckles turned white. “This us it’s the only thing that feels real, Cosmo,” he whispered. “It’s the only place I don’t feel… alone.”
The weight of his words hit me like a blow. I stepped closer, my paw brushing against his trembling hand. “I know,” I said softly, my voice cracking. “But if something happened to you, I ” My throat tightened, and I forced the words out. “I couldn’t live with myself.”
He looked up at me, his tear-filled eyes searching mine, as if desperate for an answer that could erase all the fear and pain. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his voice so small, so fragile, that it felt like it could shatter under the weight of the moment.
“You won’t,” I said, though my own voice wavered under the strain of emotions I was trying to hold back. The promise felt like a lifeline, a thread I clung to even as doubt threatened to snap it in two. “I promise, Sprout. But you have to promise me too promise me you’ll stay safe.”
He hesitated, his shoulders trembling as he nodded. “Okay,” he said, his voice breaking like a crack in a dam about to burst. “But you have to come back. Promise me you’ll come back.”
“I will,” I replied, though the weight of those two words nearly crushed me. “I’ll come back.”
Sprout sniffled, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his cloak. Then, almost hesitantly, I stepped closer and rested a paw on his arm, my fur brushing against his trembling fingers. “Hey,” I said, forcing a small smile, though my chest felt like it was caving in. “How about this? Each time there’s a full moon, let’s meet up at our secret spot. The hunters haven’t gotten that far into the forest yet they won’t find it.”
His lip quivered, and he shook his head. “What if I get lost, Cosmo?” he said, his voice tinged with panic. “It’s dark, and I I can’t ”
“Follow the moon’s light,” I interrupted gently, my tone firm but reassuring. “The moon will guide you. It always does. Trust it, and trust me.”
His gaze softened, and for a moment, I saw a glimmer of hope flicker in his tearful eyes. He nodded, clutching the edge of his cloak like it was the only thing grounding him. “Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll follow the moon.”
The sun dipped lower, painting the clearing in hues of amber and shadow, as if the world itself was mourning the moment. Neither of us moved, clinging to the fleeting seconds like they were all we had left.
Finally, Sprout took a step back, then another, his movements slow and reluctant. Each step he took felt like a blow, his absence carving a hollow ache in my chest. Just before he vanished into the shadows of the trees, he turned back, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
“Don’t forget,” he said, his voice trembling, heavy with the weight of longing. “Don’t forget this.”
“I won’t,” I replied, though my words barely carried past the clearing.
And then he was gone, swallowed by the forest, leaving behind an unbearable silence. I stood there, frozen, staring at the place where he had been as if willing him to return. But the clearing was empty, and the ache in my chest grew heavier with each passing moment.
As the forest grew darker and the first stars began to blink into existence, I tilted my head back, letting the cool night air fill my lungs. And then, unable to hold it in any longer, I let out a low, mournful howl.
The sound echoed through the trees, carrying all the regret, the fear, and the pain I couldn’t put into words. It was a lament for everything we had shared, for the fragile bond that now hung by a thread, and for the uncertainty of what lay ahead.
The moon rose higher, its silver light spilling over the forest like a quiet promise. “Follow the moon’s light,” I whispered to myself, clinging to the hope that it would guide him back to me someday.
---
3rd Pov.
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As the days passed, an unbearable emptiness began to settle over both Sprout and Cosmo, each retreating into their own isolated worlds, burdened by the absence of the other.
Cosmo buried himself in his books and baking, forcing himself to adopt a routine as a means of distraction. His small cottage became quieter than ever, the cheerful hums and laughter he used to share with Sprout now replaced by the hollow crackling of the hearth. He meticulously measured ingredients, kneaded dough, and watched the oven flame flicker, but the joy he once found in his craft was gone.
Every so often, as he dusted flour from his paws or flipped through his study books, a memory of Sprout would surface a smile, a laugh, the way his eyes lit up when they talked about their favorite sweets. The ache in his chest would return, sharper and heavier than before. But Cosmo pushed it all down, hiding his pain behind a mask of calm resolve.
Sprout, once full of wonder and mischief, had become a mere shadow of himself. His eyes, which used to sparkle with curiosity, now carried a dull, distant gaze. His once lively footsteps felt heavy, dragging through the routines his father set for him chores, training, and endless lessons on survival. He obeyed without protest, even as his heart screamed in defiance, the weight of his sadness pulling him deeper into silence.
His family noticed the change. His mother would often catch him staring blankly at his dinner plate or sitting by the window, lost in thought. “Sprout, honey, are you feeling alright?” she asked one evening, her voice gentle but edged with concern.
“I’m fine, Mama,” he replied with a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His father, though less vocal, would glance at him during their training sessions, his brows furrowed as if trying to decipher the boy who now seemed so far away.
The only time Sprout seemed to come alive, even for a fleeting moment, was when he baked. Without asking for permission, he’d slip into the kitchen when no one was looking, pulling out the cookbook he had borrowed no, stolen from Cosmo’s cottage.
One afternoon, as the sweet aroma of cookies filled the small house, his mother stormed into the kitchen, her face a mix of frustration and worry.
“Sprout!” she exclaimed, her voice sharp. “How many times have I told you not to use the oven without supervision? It’s dangerous!”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” he murmured, not looking up from the tray he was carefully pulling out.
His mother sighed, her tone softening. “Why are you doing this, Sprout? You’ve never been this… stubborn before.”
He hesitated, glancing down at the cookies, their golden edges glistening with sugar. “It’s… nothing,” he said finally, though his voice was barely audible.
Later, when the cookies were cool, he shared them with his family, hoping the act might fill the void inside him. They all praised his baking, calling it delicious, perfect even. But as he bit into one, the sweetness turned bitter on his tongue.
Something’s missing, he thought, his heart tightening. Something important.
Each time he passed by the edge of the forest, his steps would falter, his gaze drawn to the trees like a moth to a flame. The whispers of the leaves, the gentle sway of the branches they seemed to call to him, carrying the echoes of laughter and moments he wished he could relive.
Sprout stood at the edge of the forest, the faint hum of the village behind him a distant noise in his ears. The wind rustled through the trees, their whispers carrying memories of laughter, shared secrets, and a warmth he longed to feel again. He wrapped his arms around himself, as if that could shield him from the emptiness gnawing at his chest.
“Sprout?”
The familiar voice made him flinch. He turned to see Shelly standing behind him, her brow furrowed in concern. She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“You’ve been so quiet lately,” she said softly, her voice cautious but warm. “What’s going on?”
He shook his head, dropping his gaze to the ground. “Nothing,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Shelly didn’t buy it. She crouched slightly, leaning into his line of sight, her eyes searching his face. “Don’t lie to me, Sprout. I’ve known you too long for that.” She hesitated, lowering her voice. “You’ve been… different. Ever since the hunts started. You don’t even smile anymore.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted, though the crack in his voice betrayed him.
Shelly crossed her arms, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine? Fine doesn’t look like someone who spends hours staring into the forest like he’s waiting for something or someone.”
Sprout’s heart skipped. He quickly turned away, his pulse racing. “I told you, it’s nothing.”
She stepped closer, not letting him escape. “You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I won’t tell your parents. I promise.”
For a moment, Sprout felt the words rising in his throat. He wanted to tell her everything the forest, Cosmo, the connection he couldn’t let go of. His chest tightened with the weight of it, the need to unburden himself almost too strong to resist.
But then his eyes drifted past her, landing on his father’s figure in the distance. Henry stood near the training grounds, his stern gaze scanning the horizon, his stance as unyielding as the rules he imposed. The courage in Sprout’s chest withered.
“I’m fine,” he repeated, forcing a weak smile that barely lifted the corners of his lips. “Really.”
Shelly straightened, crossing her arms with a sigh. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” she said, her tone a mix of frustration and care.
Before he could respond, she reached out and grabbed his hand, tugging him gently. “Come on. Vee, Astro, and Dandy are waiting for us. They’re wondering why you’ve been ditching us lately.”
“I wasn’t ditching anyone,” he said defensively, though his voice lacked conviction.
Shelly glanced back at him as they walked, her expression softening. “You know, we’re still your friends, Sprout. Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to carry it alone.”
Sprout didn’t reply. His gaze flicked back to the forest, the shadows of the trees stretching like silent sentinels. His thoughts drifted to Cosmo the way he laughed, the way his presence made the world feel brighter. Now, that light was gone, leaving Sprout fumbling in the dark.
As Shelly led him back to the village, her chatter filling the space between them, he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at the forest one last time. The ache in his chest deepened, the memories of Cosmo and their shared moments haunting him like a melody missing its harmony.
And yet, despite the pain, he couldn’t bring himself to step into the woods. Something held him back fear, guilt, or perhaps the fragile hope that one day, the forest might lead him back to what he had lost.