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I found a clearing bathed in sunlight where wildflowers carpeted the ground in splashes of color. Dropping my backpack beside a rock, I sat down and pulled out my notebook and pen.
As I jotted down observations—the flora and fauna around me, the quality of light, the patterns of growth—I realized this wasn’t just preliminary research; it was an introduction to my new home. A home not built on fear or falsehoods, but on discovery and truth.
A squirrel scampered near my feet, eyeing me curiously before bounding away through the underbrush. Birds sang from hidden perches—a symphony composed by nature itself—and somewhere in the distance, water tumbled over rocks in a soothing cadence.
Leaning back against a sturdy oak tree, I closed my eyes and let myself become just another part of this living tapestry. Mybreathing slowed to match the whispering breeze; my heartbeat seemed to sync with the subtle pulse of life around me.
With my eyes shut tight and senses wide open—I was at one with nature.
A shiver crept up my spine, unbidden, as I lounged against the oak. The sensation prickled across my skin like the subtle shift of shadows at dusk. I’d been here countless times before, but this was different—like eyes were boring into me from somewhere unseen. I scanned the clearing, searching for an intruder, but only the regular rustle of leaves greeted me.
“Get a grip, Arlet.” I chided myself for letting old ghosts haunt me in broad daylight. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling. It was as if my past had sprouted legs and followed me here, ready to leap out from behind a tree and drag me back to a life I’d fought hard to leave behind.
With a deep breath, I stood up and stretched, my movements deliberately casual. My hand rested on the pepper spray in my pocket—a habit from a former life that I couldn’t quite kick. The woods were safe; I reminded myself. The real dangers lay in human hearts and dark alleyways back in New York.
I packed away my notebook and started back toward the path that would lead me out of the forest. As I walked, my senses stayed on high alert, attuned to every snap of a twig or whisper of movement in the underbrush. Birds still sang their carefree tunes, oblivious to the tension knotting in my gut.
It wasn’t long before I emerged from the tree line and into the warm embrace of sunlight. The field station came into view, its wooden structure a beacon of modernity amidst nature’s domain. My colleagues would be there—real people withgenuine smiles and no hidden agendas. People who knew me only as Arlet Rune.
As much as I tried to immerse myself in this new world and identity, remnants of my old life clung to me like cobwebs—sticky and stubborn. But here was my chance at redemption; here was where I could make a real difference.
I pushed through the door of the field station, greeted by the hum of activity with researchers poring over maps, discussing conservation strategies with fervor that matched any high-stakes deal from my past life.
“Arlet! Just in time.” Sarah waved as she caught sight of me entering.
I smiled at her, grateful for her enthusiasm and for pulling me back into the present moment.
“We’re just about to review some data from the tracking collars we placed last month,” she said while gesturing toward a large screen displaying maps dotted with colorful blips.
The room filled with passionate voices debating corridors for wildlife migration and protective measures for endangered species. It was invigorating to be part of something so vital and pure—an endeavor that sought no power or retribution, but only to preserve beauty for generations yet unborn.
As we huddled around tables littered with charts and notes, that unsettling feeling from the forest dissipated like mist under the morning sun. Yet, even surrounded by this camaraderie and purpose, there remained a whisper at the edge of my consciousness—a reminder that shadows don’t always need darkness to exist.
I threw myself into discussions with fervor, determined not to let paranoia disrupt this new life I was building. But even as we laid plans for a brighter future for these woods and their inhabitants, I couldn’t help but glance occasionally at the windows overlooking the forest that had become both sanctuary and source of unease.
CHAPTER 2
Hayze
Leaves crunched underfoot, but not mine. Mine were silent, a whisper against the forest floor as I moved, invisible among the towering firs and cedars. I kept my gaze fixed on Arlet; her form a stark contrast to the wild greenery around her. Her hand trailed along the rough bark of a tree, her eyes wide with the wonder of this new world she had embraced.
I admired her. She walked with resilience, her chin held high when she assumed she was alone. Arlet wasn’t merely surviving; she was actively making this place her own. And I, Hayze Russel, protected this life she had found.
She knelt by a cluster of wildflowers, jotting notes in a small book she’d pulled from her backpack. A gust of wind tugged at her hair, pulling strands across her face. She brushed them away with an impatient hand, never taking her eyes off the petals and leaves she studied so intently.
From my vantage point among the shadows, I could see every line of concentration etched into her forehead, every subtlemovement speaking volumes of her focus and passion for the work that brought her here. I was told to be a phantom, an unseen protector to step in only if dire circumstances called for it. A guardian against the darkness that might reach out for her from hidden corners of the world—or perhaps from her past.
She stood again, stretching out limbs that had been still for too long. Her head tilted back as she took in a deep breath of the crisp forest air. It was then that she paused, a slight furrow between her brows. She glanced over her shoulder, scanning the trees. Could she sense me? A flicker of amusement warmed my chest; humans were often more perceptive than we originally thought.
But then she shook off the feeling and continued on her path, deeper into the thicket, where dappled sunlight played tricks with vision and where silence reigned supreme.
I followed at a distance that allowed me to see without being seen. My footsteps remained silent; my presence was nothing more than a passing shadow amidst the many that danced between sunbeams and leaves.
It wasn’t part of my directive to appreciate anything about Arlet beyond what was necessary to protect her. But as I watched her stop by a babbling brook, kneel to collect water samples with hands that did not tremble or hesitate despite their delicate appearance—I took in more than just her beauty.
There was strength there too; strength and beauty intertwined like vines around an ancient tree trunk. And as much as I tried to remain detached—the stoic sentinel from Thion J5—I couldn’t deny that something about Arlet resonated within me: an admiration for this human who carried on with such purposein a world that was not quite hers but would be soon enough if she had any say in it.
I shifted my weight slightly, my bronze skin catching none of the fading light as day surrendered to the evening’s approach. And there I remained—a silent guardian watching over Arlet as she mapped out a future in which she didn’t even know I existed.
