The morning sun filtered through the pine-scented air, casting long shadows across the wooden floor of the cottage. It was the kind of morning that should have felt peaceful—but peace had become an illusion.
Our breakfast was quiet. Not awkward quiet, but the kind where everyone was lost in their own heads. Ambrose broke the silence, as expected.
"Right, so, any bets on which one of us gets turned into a tree spirit today?"
Jacob let out a short laugh. "With your luck, you'd just become a talking squirrel."
"I'd make an adorable squirrel," Ambrose quipped, stuffing a piece of toast in his mouth.
Despite the banter, the tension was there—beneath the humor, beneath the surface-level calm. We were beginning the real expedition today. A full month of strategic exploration into the forest's heart. We'd spent days planning routes, time slots, and checkpoints. This wasn't just adventure anymore. It was research. And maybe survival.
I glanced at Bobby across the table. He looked tired, but focused. Ever since our last encounter with the portal, he'd been scribbling equations and drawing time-loop diagrams on every spare scrap of paper. There were even sticky notes on the fridge labeled "probability clusters" and "dilation variance."
"You guys ready?" I asked, pushing my empty plate aside.
Jacob nodded. "I've got the compass, torches, rations, and a GoPro. We're documenting everything."
Ambrose rolled his eyes. "Great, if we die, at least YouTube will have content."
"Let's not die," I muttered, grabbing my jacket.
---
We entered the forest just past 9 a.m. The path was one we'd taken before, but something about it already felt different. Maybe it was our state of mind. Maybe it was the forest.
We took turns leading. Bobby insisted we use timed intervals, so each of us had a role. Ambrose, surprisingly, was the best at spotting subtle changes—disturbed leaves, hidden symbols on tree trunks, or the faint remnants of footprints.
"Hey," Ambrose said, stopping near a tree with oddly curled bark. "This look familiar?"
I squinted. It did. Very.
Jacob stepped forward. "This is where we found the old hut the first time. Same twisted trunk. Same mossy patch."
"But," Bobby said, kneeling near the roots, "the moss has grown back. That shouldn't have happened this fast."
"Or we're back in the same moment from a different angle," I said.
We kept walking, marking trees with chalk and logging GPS coordinates—even though Bobby warned us GPS wouldn't be reliable. We passed the same crooked birch three times in two hours. The path had curved inward like a spiral.
Ambrose broke the monotony with a deadpan voice, "Okay, if we pass this tree again, I'm naming it Gregory and declaring it our forest spirit mascot."
"You realize naming things makes it harder to leave them behind?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Who said I was planning on leaving?"
---
At noon, we stopped near a small clearing to regroup. Bobby unfurled a rough map he'd drawn from previous walks. He traced lines in the dirt with a stick, calculating.
"There's a pattern. We keep circling back to this cluster. It's like the forest is rerouting us."
Jacob wiped sweat from his brow. "Or we're just lost."
"No," Bobby replied, "not lost. Redirected."
That hit different. This wasn't random. It never was.
We agreed to split up in pairs for one hour. Bobby and Jacob would follow a northwestern track, while Ambrose and I would head south.
As Ambrose and I walked in silence, he suddenly asked, "You ever think about how this ends, Alex?"
I stopped walking. "You mean us? Or the forest?"
"Both," he said. "Like, do we come back from this? Go back to jobs and traffic and emails like none of this ever happened?"
It was strange hearing Ambrose get serious. But that was the thing about him. Beneath the jokes, he felt deeply. He just didn't always show it.
"I think… we come back changed," I said finally. "And I think we're meant to. Otherwise, why would the forest choose us?"
He nodded and offered a grin. "Damn. That's poetic, man. You been reading my secret diary?"
We both laughed. For a moment, the weight lifted.
---
Back at the clearing, we all reconvened. Bobby was scribbling furiously.
"Found something," he said, holding up a stick with strange symbols etched in it. "Same markings as the tree from the last siren night."
Jacob looked pale. "These markings—they weren't fresh. They've been there. Which means someone—or something—keeps making them."
"What if it's us?" Ambrose said. "Loop theory, right? Maybe we're the ones leaving these behind each time."
Bobby looked thoughtful. "Possible. Or our other versions are."
"You mean, doppelgänger-Alex could be carving this right now?" I asked.
Ambrose nodded solemnly. "Or he's in a romantic relationship with Gregory the Tree."
I groaned. "Why are you like this?"
"Defense mechanism," he said with a wink.
---
That night, we gathered around the fireplace. The wind howled softly against the windows. There was something calming about the forest at night—if you ignored the existential dread.
"I spoke to my mom today," Ambrose suddenly said. "Told her I might have actually become a superhero."
Jacob laughed. "And how did she take that?"
"She told me to eat more fruit."
Bobby chuckled, "Ambrose… she might be onto something."
There was a moment of silence before Ambrose added, "She asked if I was happy. I didn't have an answer."
That silence held weight.
"I think I'm trying to be," I said, voice quiet. "This—whatever it is—is part of that."
Bobby nodded. "Discovery, truth, purpose… it's all the same pursuit."
Jacob leaned back, staring into the fire. "Let's just not get lost finding it."
That line stuck with me.
Because somewhere in this forest, something was waiting. Watching.
And it knew we were getting closer.