The ritual hut stank of burning herbs and old wood. Smoke curled through the cracks in the ceiling, winding around the girl's trembling form. Her left arm, now hard and ridged like tree bark, ached as the transformation progressed. The elders chanted in low, somber voices, their hands raised to the heavens, calling upon the spirits of the Ents to claim her. To root her in place, to make her the next sacrifice—their village's eternal warden.
She couldn't do it. She wouldn't do it.
The girl clenched her remaining flesh-and-blood fist and tore through the wooden bindings at her wrists. The transformation had already granted her unnatural strength. A sharp crack split the air as her bonds snapped, and she lunged forward, knocking over the ceremonial bowl of sap and ember. Gasps echoed behind her as she threw her weight against the door, splinters flying outward into the night.
The elders' shouts chased her as she sprinted toward the treeline. "Stop her! She cannot be allowed to leave!"
Her legs burned as she pushed herself forward, heart pounding with terror. She had to get away. The wind howled past her, the scent of damp earth rising as she raced through the dense, looming forest.
But then—the river.
It roared beneath the moonlight, a churning mass of white foam and dark currents. It had always marked the village's edge, the boundary between the known and the untamed. And no one ever crossed it.
She didn't hesitate. With a powerful kick, she leapt into the air, her transformed arm stretching forward, wooden fingers grazing the wind.
For a moment, she soared.
Then—impact. The ground slammed into her chest, knocking the breath from her lungs. She tumbled forward, rolling over damp grass and dirt before coming to a stop beneath the shadow of an ancient oak. Her wooden arm throbbed, pulsing as it spread further, creeping toward her shoulder.
No turning back now.
She dragged herself to her feet and pressed on. The forest whispered around her—branches creaking, leaves rustling as if murmuring secrets. The ent-curse had already begun to tie her to this place.
Then she heard him.
A voice, faint and desperate.
She followed the sound, brushing aside branches with her wooden hand. In a small clearing ahead, a boy dangled from a ledge, his fingers barely clinging to the roots of an overhanging tree. His feet kicked wildly above the abyss below.
"Help!" he gasped, his voice raw with panic.
The girl hesitated for only a second before instinct took over. She extended her wooden arm, stretching it beyond normal human reach. The grain of her skin rippled, twisting as the transformation obeyed her will. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist in an iron grip.
His eyes widened in shock. "Wh-what—?"
She yanked him upward with ease, his body swinging over the ledge before landing roughly in the grass beside her. He scrambled back, staring at her wooden arm in stunned silence.
"You—you're—" His breath came fast. "You were part of the ritual, weren't you?"
She flexed her hand, watching the fingers twitch unnaturally. "Not anymore."
His gaze flickered with something unreadable—relief, perhaps. Then urgency. "My sister's missing," he said suddenly. "She disappeared this morning. I—I was looking for her when I slipped."
The girl swallowed hard. This wasn't her problem. She needed to keep moving before the village hunters came after her.
But she saw the way his hands shook, the raw desperation in his face.
She exhaled sharply. "Where did you see her last?"
A flicker of hope lit his face. "Near the river," he said. "She was playing by the water."
The river. The currents were strong this time of year.
The girl turned her head toward the trees, and suddenly, she heard them.
She is further down the river.
The voices didn't come from the boy, nor from her own mind, but from the forest itself. The wind carried their words, the rustling leaves shaping their song.
She froze.
The boy watched her carefully. "What is it?" he asked.
She swallowed. "I think…I think I can hear the trees."
His expression turned wary, but he didn't question it. He simply nodded. "Then we have to go."
She ran.
Her feet barely touched the ground as she darted through the underbrush, her senses sharp, more attuned than before. The boy followed close behind, struggling to keep up. The river's rush grew louder with every step, until—
There.
In the water, a small figure flailed desperately. A child, her arms floundering against the current, her cries lost beneath the roar.
The boy shouted. "LINA!"
The girl didn't hesitate. She sprinted to the river's edge, her wooden arm snapping outward like a vine, extending, reaching, grabbing. Her fingers closed around the child's wrist, locking her in place.
But the current was relentless. It pulled, twisted, fought against her grip. Her feet slid over the slick riverbank, her body jerking forward.
Then the forest itself seemed to answer.
Roots curled around her ankles, anchoring her. The trees groaned in unison, their whispers guiding her strength. With a final, powerful heave, she pulled the girl free from the river's grasp, lifting her onto the shore.
The child coughed violently, her small frame shuddering. The boy fell to his knees beside her, clutching her tightly.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of ragged breathing, the river's endless song, and the wind whispering through the trees.
The girl took a slow step back.
The boy turned to her, eyes wide with something new—not fear, not pity, but reverence. He swallowed hard and bowed his head.
"Thank you, Guardian."
The word settled deep in her chest, heavier than she expected.
His sister mirrored the motion, pressing a trembling hand to her heart before whispering the same: "Thank you."
The girl tried to smile, but she could already feel the last remnants of her humanity fading. She touched her face—half of it was no longer flesh. The bark stretched over her cheek, her lips stiffening as the final pieces of the ent-curse took hold.
She looked down at her hands. Fully wooden now.
The siblings stepped back, their gazes lingering for only a moment longer before they turned and disappeared into the trees.
She watched them go.
The wind stirred again, the forest breathing with her. She lifted her hands and ran them over the ridges of her new body—her new self.
She was no longer human.
No longer bound to the village, to their fear, to their sacrifice.
She was something more.
She was a Guardian.
And the forest welcomed her home.