Just when the silence felt overwhelming, a sudden rustle in the underbrush caught the attention of a wandering soul. Mara froze, breath suspended, as if the night itself leaned in to listen. The forest had been still for hours—too still, she had thought—its usual chorus of crickets and owls muted beneath a heavy, watching darkness. Now, that fragile quiet had cracked.
She took one careful step toward the sound. Leaves shivered again, then parted, as if pushed aside by invisible fingertips. Mara’s pulse hammered. She told herself it was probably a fox, or a deer shaken from sleep. But deep down, she knew this part of the forest didn’t belong to ordinary creatures, not after what had happened to the village.
A pale glow seeped through the trees, drifting like a lantern caught in a slow current. Mara hesitated. She’d seen lights like this before, stories whispered around dying hearth fires: the spirits that wandered after tragedy, searching for what had been taken from them. Some said they guided lost travelers to safety. Others insisted they lured them deeper, toward places a living person had no right to tread.
Mara stepped forward anyway.
The glow flickered, pausing as though waiting. When she nodded, it glided away. She followed, branches brushing against her coat, roots twisting beneath her boots. The forest felt unfamiliar, stretched thin in a way that made her uneasy, as if time itself faltered between the trees.
The light finally slowed beside a fallen log. Something small lay beneath it—a locket, half-buried in moss, its silver chain tangled around a splintered root. Mara knelt, fingers trembling as she reached for it. She recognized the pattern engraved on its surface: two intertwined leaves. Her mother’s.
She swallowed hard. Her mother had vanished during the fire, leaving nothing behind but ashes and unanswered questions. Yet here was proof she’d made it farther than anyone had realized.
The glow brightened until it felt warm on Mara’s face. She opened the locket. Inside was a tiny scrap of parchment, marked with hurried, shaky ink: Keep going. I’m close.
A breath caught in Mara’s throat—half sob, half hope.
The glow drifted deeper into the forest, pausing once more to beckon.
This time, Mara didn’t hesitate. She rose, clutching the locket, and followed the light into the dark unknown, no longer wandering, but guided.
Therapy Bits 
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