CHAPTER 13
BRAKKOR
The forest path crunches beneath our boots as Thornak leads me deeper into the woods surrounding Harvest Hollow. Autumn has painted the canopy in shades of copper and gold, but the beauty doesn't soften the tension radiating from my guide's shoulders.
"So this is where you spend most of your time." I duck under a low branch, noting how the trail shows clear signs of regular maintenance—cleared debris, marked boundaries, careful stewardship.
"Every day." Thornak doesn't slow his pace or turn around. "Been working these woods for fifteen years. Know every tree, every trail, every seasonal change."
His tone carries the heaviness of someone who takes ownership seriously. I've met his type before—people who view their work as sacred responsibility rather than simple employment.
"Must be satisfying work. Seeing the forest change through the seasons, watching things grow."
Thornak finally glances back at me, dark eyes measuring. "Satisfying when things grow as they should. Less satisfying when they don't."
We walk in silence for several minutes, the only sounds our footsteps and the distant rustle of small creatures moving through underbrush. The deeper we go, the more I understand why Maddie thought this excursion would be good for me—there's something grounding about being surrounded by living things that operate on their own timeline, immune to human manipulation.
"Here." Thornak stops abruptly at what appears to be an arbitrary point along the trail. "This is the eastern boundary of my managed section."
I look around, seeing nothing but more trees and dappled sunlight. "Looks like forest to me."
"Look closer."
His tone carries the patience of someone accustomed to teaching people who don't know how to see. I step off the path, studying the area more carefully, and gradually begin to notice subtle differences—older trees mixed with younger growth, deliberate spacing that suggests human intervention rather than natural development.
"You've been managing the growth patterns." I run my hand along the bark of a mature oak. "Selective harvesting to promote healthier development."
"Among other things." Thornak moves past me, heading toward a section where the canopy appears thinner. "But this wasn't my work."
The change becomes obvious as we approach. Where the rest of the forest shows careful cultivation, this area bears the unmistakable signs of recent cutting—clean stumps, sawdust still scattered on the ground, gaps in the canopy that let harsh sunlight penetrate to the forest floor.
"Someone's been harvesting?" I crouch next to one of the stumps, examining the clean cut that shows professional tools and technique.
"Several trees. All mature hardwood. All removed without permission." Thornak's voice carries quiet anger, the kind that runs deep and stays controlled. "Found a few days ago."
I stand, brushing sawdust from my hands while my mind processes what I'm seeing. The cuts are too clean for casual theft, too organized for random vandalism. Someone with proper equipment and knowledge came here specifically for these trees.
"Any idea who?"
"No." Thornak moves to the next stump, running his weathered fingers along the cut surface. "But they knew what they were doing. These were some of the best specimens in this section—the kind that take decades to reach this quality."
The pieces click together in my head with the familiar weight of recognition. Unauthorized harvesting of valuable resources. Missing supply shipments. Falsified documentation. The pattern extends beyond simple business disruption into active resource extraction.
"You know Calla well." Thornak's statement cuts through the forest quiet, delivered with the same measured tone he uses for everything else.
I glance at him, noting how his shoulders remain relaxed despite the shift in conversation. "We work together."
"That's not what I meant."
The trail narrows here, forcing us to walk single file. Thornak takes the lead, but I can feel his attention focused on me rather than the path ahead. The weight of being evaluated settles across my shoulders like morning frost.
"People in Harvest Hollow look out for each other." He steps over a fallen branch, not bothering to hold it back for me. "Been that way since before I was born. Before Calla took over the paper. Before Maddie moved here."
"Sounds like a tight community."
"Tight enough that when someone new arrives, we notice. When they start spending time with our people, we pay attention."
I duck under a low-hanging branch, processing the subtle warning wrapped in his matter-of-fact delivery. "Are you telling me I'm being watched?"
