CH395 · Rewrite
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Chapter 395: Deep Down Inside the Winter Forest

Leaf was searching for Lightning and Maggie—not by walking, but by moving her vision through the canopy, drifting from branch to branch like blown smoke.

Her body had merged with the forest. She stood somewhere and nowhere simultaneously, a consciousness distributed across root-systems and bark and winter-stripped limbs, looking out through the eyes of ten thousand trees at once.

It was an extraordinary feeling. Like being a bird, but without the vertigo of height—she wouldn’t fall, couldn’t fall, because she wasn’t exactly there. As long as she sustained the form, she could cross the entire Fusion Forest in an instant. Against the full breadth of the Misty Forest, of course, the territory she controlled was still barely a fraction.

But she was expanding it. A little each day, careful and methodical, starting from the western city wall and pushing outward—always waiting until she fully understood a new stretch of forest before extending into the next. To lose herself in an environment she didn’t yet know would be dangerous. The Misty Forest was not a garden.

She wanted to control all of it eventually. The complexity here was staggering—nothing like the olive trees and grapevines in the castle’s back garden. Beneath every inch of earth, life moved in endless layers: dormant animals in their dens, insects threading through soil, decaying matter feeding the roots, tiny streams babbling under the frost. She could feel them all. At the pace she was setting, full coverage might take two or three years.

It would be worth it. If she could extend her reach through the entire forest, she could help His Highness in ways no one else could—early warning against demonic beasts, resource gathering, a living barrier at every border.

She found Lightning and Maggie in a clearing not far from the stream.

The branches she shook announced her. Lightning startled, hand flying to her chest. “You scared me!”

“Coo, coo!” Maggie bobbed her head emphatically.

“Sorry.” Leaf pressed herself partway out through a tree trunk—arms and shoulders emerging from the bark like a twig that had decided to be a person. “Is this better?”

“At least now I’m not talking to a ghost.” Lightning landed on the snow. “Can you appear anywhere in the forest?”

“Anywhere within my controlled territory.”

Maggie waddled over, stepped onto Leaf’s back, and walked back and forth inspecting the junction of flesh and wood. Then she pecked at it. “You’ve grown into the tree, coo!”

The tickling sensation ran all the way up Leaf’s spine. She laughed before she could help it. “That’s just how my ability works.”

“It feels strange, coo.”

“Says the girl who turns herself into a giant demon bird.” Lightning rolled her eyes. “Where’s our prey?”

“Follow me.”

She couldn’t hold a walking human form while moving—instead, vines grew up from the snow ahead of them, a living path curling through the underbrush. Lightning and Maggie followed.

“What are we hunting?” Lightning asked.

“A large boar, out from the deep forest. If you’d rather, I can simply tie it up and drop it outside the city wall.”

“No.” Lightning’s voice carried an explorer’s certainty. “The process matters. The result isn’t the only point.”

“Meat is the point, coo!”

Leaf felt something warm in her chest that she didn’t have a name for. These two had been in this forest long before she learned to see through it—they came regularly to hunt and train, and Maggie carried their kills back to the castle in her talons. Half the meat on the witches’ table these days came from this clearing.

“There.” The vines slowed. “By the stream.”

A massive boar crouched at the water’s edge, muzzle dipped to the current. Tusks jutted from either side of its snout like curved blades, and the mane along its spine stood nearly finger-length, bristled and rigid. Hunters gave animals like this a wide berth. To the two witches, it was dinner.

“Ready,” Lightning said, pulling her dagger.

“No gun?” Leaf asked, surprised.

“Too boring.” She wiped her nose with magnificent confidence and launched herself into the air.

Lightning’s attack came from behind and above—a streak of gold against the grey sky. She hit the boar’s head and was already moving as it lurched upright, screaming a high, broken sound.

Did she miss? No. One of the boar’s eyes had become a gash of dark red. Leaf understood: she’d gone for the senses first, intending to exhaust it blind before she finished it. The boar swung its head wildly, lurching at nothing, unable to find its attacker in the air above.

It was fast. Then it wasn’t. It toppled into the snow without a sound, too exhausted to resist.

Lightning whistled from somewhere above. “Well?”

“Well done.” Leaf wrapped vines around the animal’s hind legs and hoisted it. “We need to let it bleed out first. His Highness says meat tastes better without blood in it.”

“Purr.” Maggie’s eyes had gone glassy with anticipation. “Big meal tonight, coo.”

“Wait—”

Something had entered the edge of her awareness. Two shapes moving at the far boundary of her controlled territory, approaching from deeper in the forest. Grey wolves, she thought at first—but wolves didn’t move like that.

She held very still inside the network of roots and bark, and looked.

Her blood went cold.

Demons. Two of them, walking steadily toward the city wall. No magic stones on their arms, no spears across their backs—but each wore a black iron glove on one hand. The same weapon that had killed Red Light, in the Barbarian Land, in a battle Leaf had not forgotten and never would.

Why are they here?

She pulled herself back into voice, urgent and thin: “Get out of here. Now. Demons are coming.”

Lightning’s head snapped up. “What?”

Leaf described them—their position, their direction, the gloves. “They don’t have mounts. They can’t catch you if you leave immediately. Go. I’ll follow.”

Lightning hesitated. Then she shook her head.

“I’m staying.”

Leaf stared at her through the nearest branch. “Why?”

“If I run from them now, I’ll run from them every time.” The little girl’s voice had gone very quiet, the way voices did when someone was keeping themselves steady. She checked the cylinder of her pistol, snapped it shut. “My father told me to get up from where you fall. I’m not running again.”

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