The woman stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the flickering light of an old chandelier. Her eyes were sharp, her posture stiff, and her presence—unmistakably threatening.
Mira instinctively stepped in front of Brittany.
But then, the woman smiled.
"Well now," she said, her voice warm and worn like an old quilt. "You girls must be hungry. Would you like to try some sweet potato soup? Just made a fresh pot."
Mira and Brittany exchanged a look.
"…Sure?" Mira said slowly.
The woman gestured toward the dining room. "Come, come. It's rude to keep a lady waiting."
The table was set with mismatched China and a steaming pot of soup at the center. The smell was rich and earthy, with a hint of something… nostalgic.
They sat down, stiff-backed and wary.
Then, a door creaked open.
A little girl stomped into the room, arms crossed, wearing a frilly dress and a scowl that could curdle milk.
She looked exactly like a younger Brittany—same sharp eyes, same pout, same dramatic flair.
"Janet," the old woman called sweetly. "Come say hello to our guests."
Mira blinked. "Brittany… isn't that—?"
Brittany's face tightened. "Yeah. That's my mom's name."
Janet rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I'm not staying. I have better things to do."
She stormed off.
Mira whispered, "Was that… your mom as a kid?"
Brittany didn't answer. She just picked up her spoon and took a bite of the soup.
Her eyes widened.
"Oh my god," she said. "This is… this is amazing. Like, Michelin-starred grandma energy."
The old woman chuckled. "Family secret. But I'll tell you this—it's all in the magic of tender potatoes, fully boiled… and a hint of salt."
Brittany froze.
That phrase.
She'd heard it before.
From her mom. From her aunt. From the stories they told about Grandma Judy.
She looked up slowly.
"You're… Judy," she whispered.
The woman smiled. "I was."
For a moment, Brittany let herself breathe.
The soup warmed her from the inside out, and for the first time in what felt like days, she wasn't running, hiding, or screaming. She was just… remembering.
The smell of sweet potatoes. The creak of the rocking chair. The way her mom used to hum when she stirred the pot.
It was all here.
And it was real.
Or close enough.
As they finished the last spoonfulls, Grandma Judy looked at Brittany with a curious tilt of her head.
"You remind me of someone," she said softly.
Brittany stood. "We should go."
Mira nodded. "Yeah. Thank you for the soup."
They made their way to the door.
Behind them, Janet's voice rang out. "Are you kidding me? They didn't leave already?"
Grandma Judy sighed. "Why are you so rude?"
Mira and Brittany exchanged a grin.
Then—
A tiny voice piped up from the hallway.
"Mom! When Dad comes, tell him I ran out of lip gloss!"
A five-year-old girl skipped into view, her curls bouncing, her glittery shoes lighting up with each step.
Brittany's jaw dropped.
"She looks just like Lily," Mira whispered.
They didn't wait to ask questions.
They stepped out the door, the warmth of the soup still lingering on their tongues.
And the forest swallowed them once more.