The forest was alive as always, singing its endless song. Ivy was used to the soft rustle of leaves whispering secrets to one another, the cheerful chirping of birds high above, and the hum of life that pulsed beneath every root and stone. Sunlight snuck through the branches in gentle shafts, caressing her skin as it always had done, ever since she was nothing but a youngling.

  As Ivy wandered deeper into the ancient groves, something began to change. The air grew still and uneasy. She couldn’t quite understand why, but it was as if all of it had changed in a few heartbeats. The warmth she usually felt from the forest seemed to fade. It was still there, but distant, hidden beneath a chill that prickled at her skin. Even the birds had gone quiet, and an eerie hush replaced their songs.

  Soon, she learned why.

  In a small clearing ahead, a figure stood among the shadows. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a dark cloak that draped over her frame. Her skin was pale, and her eyes gleamed with suspicion.

  Ivy knew what stood right in front of her, of course. She had heard of them before, though this was the first time she had seen one with her own eyes.

  A spore druid

  One who belonged to this forest, as much as the trees and the wind did.

  Ivy stopped in her tracks, her breath catching for a moment. The look on the druid’s face made it clear that she hadn’t come for a friendly talk. There was no warmth in her expression, only warning. The way her eyes lingered on Ivy said everything without a single word—the druid didn’t believe she belonged here.

  Ivy tilted her head. “What’s your name? Nirvanith, is it? I’ve heard—”

  “You don’t belong here. Leave.”

  Ivy blinked, caught off guard by the boldness in the druid’s gaze, yet she didn’t step back. Surprise flickered across her face, but she stood her ground. Her hands remained clasped in front of her, and she kept her shoulders loose and steady.

  “I’ve been born here, you know,” she said softly, “I grew up among these very trees, under their branches and beside their roots. The forest raised me. Its creatures watched over me, taught me, and kept me safe. This forest feels like home. I only want to care for it, like you.”

  Nirvanith’s eyes narrowed in sheer disbelief.

  “Care?” the druid snapped at the girl, taking a long step forward. “You’re a child playing with things you barely understand. Go back to your grove before you become another mistake I have to clean up.”

  Still, Ivy did not leave. She stood her ground—she had the right to roam this forest. This was, after all, all she had ever known. Surely the druid would understand that.

  Slowly, Ivy extended a hand toward her, with a small, gentle smile curving her lips. It held no defiance, but instead hope that they could, at the very least, coexist peacefully together.

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  “We both love this forest, do we not?” Ivy said softly. “Maybe we could learn from each other.”

  For a heartbeat, there was only silence. The wind stirred between them, carrying the scent of moss and rain. Nirvanith’s sharp gaze lingered on Ivy’s outstretched hand, unreadable. For a single moment, Ivy suspected that she might even accept it.

  Then, without a word, Nirvanith turned away. Her dark cloak rippled like drifting smoke as she stepped back into the shadows, where she belonged, fading among the trees until nothing remained.

  ? ? ?

  In the weeks that followed, the druid did not disappear as Ivy had expected. Though she never spoke, her presence always lingered near. Ivy would catch sight of her now and then—a flicker of movement she knelt by the creek to drink, or a faint shape among the trees as she rested beneath the ancient canopy. The druid never approached, but she was there, hidden in the folds of shadow.

  There was hope, after all. If Nirvanith stuck around, then perhaps something had begun to change.

  Ivy carried on with her days as she always had. She tended to the plants, walked barefoot through the moss, and hummed to the rhythm of the forest, but now, there was always that invisible gaze following her. It wasn’t threatening, but it was constant.

  One afternoon, while sunlight streamed through the leaves and painted her skin in gold, Ivy had finally had enough of this distance between them. She sat perched on a smooth rock beside the water.

  “You can stop hiding, you know,” she called, her eyes drifting toward the darker edges of the trees. Silence. Her ears twitched, registering only the soft murmur of the creek. Still, even if the druid did not respond, Ivy could feel her presence.

  “I see you,” Ivy added, “You’re not fooling anyone.”

  At last, Nirvanith emerged from the shadows. Her face was as stern as ever, and her expression carried the same disapproval Ivy had seen before. It was clear she still didn’t think Ivy belonged in the forest as much as she did. Folding her arms across her chest, Nirvanith regarded Ivy with a cold gaze. No words.

  “Now that I’ve seen how you work,” Nirvanith pointed out, “there’s quite a lot you seem to be doing wrong.” Her eyes flicked toward the moss-covered trees. “For instance, the potions you make with the moss from the northern side of the forest—they’re too weak. You’re using the wrong kind.”

  Ivy tilted her head, one brow lifting in amusement, but said nothing.

  “And the flowers you pluck for their scent,” Nirvanith continued sharply, “There are others, rarer but stronger, that would serve you far better.”

  “Perhaps you could show me, then,” Ivy offered with a gentle smile, but Nirvanith pressed on as though she hadn’t heard her.

  “And another thing,” she added, her tone growing firm, “you shouldn’t wander so far up the river. It’s dangerous there, even for … someone like you.”

  “Well, Nirva—”

  “Nirvanith,” the druid interrupted immediately. “My name is Nirvanith.”

  Ivy shrugged slightly. “Friends often shorten each other’s names, you know.”

  Nirvanith’s eyes narrowed to slits. “We aren’t friends,” she replied flatly.

  Ivy half-expected her to tell her to leave again, but the druid didn’t do that. Instead, she gave Ivy one last look before turning away. In the next breath, she was gone, melting back into the forest’s embrace.

  Though she left without another word, Ivy couldn’t help but smile. For all her sharpness and scolding, Nirvanith had still shared some of her knowledge. And that, Ivy thought, was enough to make her just a little wiser than before.