The forest ended not with a roar, but with silence.
After days of endless green walls, snarling beasts, and sleepless nights under trembling branches, Arin stepped into light for the first time in what felt like forever.
The air smelled different here — dry, sun-warmed, carrying the faint taste of dust instead of moss and rot. He blinked at the brightness, hand raised to shield his eyes. Ahead, a dirt road stretched across a golden plain, cutting the world neatly in two.
He stood there for a long moment, too stunned to move.
After everything — the beasts, the hunger, the loneliness — this sight almost didn't feel real.
"…A road," he breathed. His voice cracked from disuse.
For the first time in weeks, he wasn't surrounded by trees that watched, or shadows that whispered. Just open air. A straight path.
He stepped onto it slowly, his bare feet pressing into warm soil. The world felt fragile now, like it might vanish if he walked too fast.
Then — a sound.
Faint at first. A rhythmic clop-clop-clop echoing across the plains.
Arin's heart jumped. He turned toward it.
Through the wavering shimmer of heat, a figure emerged — a man on horseback, leading a cart piled high with wooden crates and covered bundles. The horse moved with a steady pace, its coat glinting under the sun.
A person. A real person.
Arin's chest tightened with disbelief and relief all at once. He raised an arm and called out, voice hoarse, "Hey! Wait—!"
"Come with me buddy" Arin said to cub but he rotate his head like he refuse to come "take care Buddy and don't die" Arin said
The man slowed, pulling the reins gently. The horse snorted, hooves digging into the dirt as dust curled around them.
The rider's eyes studied the boy approaching from the treeline — torn clothes, dirt-streaked face, exhaustion clinging to every stsep.
"Easy there, kid," the man said, his tone wary but not unkind. "You just crawl out of that cursed forest?"
Arin nodded, still catching his breath. "Yeah… I guess I did."
The man whistled under his breath. "Then you're either blessed or stubborn. That place eats people alive."
Arin managed a weak grin. "Maybe both."
The man chuckled. "Fair enough." He tugged at the reins, bringing the cart closer. "Name's Ronan. Trader by work, fool by habit."
"Arin," the boy said quietly.
Ronan's eyes softened a little. "Well, Arin, you look half-dead. Got water and dried rations in the back — climb up before you fall over."
Arin hesitated, his body tense from instinct, then nodded and climbed onto the wooden cart. The moment he sat, the boards creaked, but the steady rhythm of the horse beneath him felt grounding — real.
Ronan clicked his tongue, and they began to move again. The cart wheels groaned, crunching over stones and dust.
For a long stretch, neither spoke.
The forest slowly receded behind them, shrinking into a jagged green scar on the horizon.
Arin stared back once, breathing slow and uneven. I made it.
Ronan broke the quiet first.
"Not many come out that way. You got family waiting for you somewhere?"
Arin hesitated, staring at the road. "…No. Not anymore."
Ronan gave a short nod, understanding more than he said. "Then you're looking for somewhere new, I take it?"
"Maybe," Arin murmured. "Or maybe just… somewhere that still feels human."
Ronan grinned faintly. "Can't promise you'll find that easy these days. But I can at least promise a warm meal and some ground to sleep on that doesn't try to eat you."
Arin actually smiled. It was small, but real.
The trader glanced at him again. "Where're you from, anyway?"
Arin looked down, tracing a scar on his wrist. "A city called… Aeryn Haven."
Ronan's hands froze on the reins for a moment.
"…Say that again?"
"Aeryn Haven," Arin repeated, a little firmer this time.
Ronan exhaled slowly. "Haven't heard that name since I was a boy. Old maps mentioned it, back before the wars. Folks used to call it the City of Dawns — said it had towers so tall they caught the first light of the day."
Arin's eyes flickered with something fragile. "It's real, then?"
Ronan hesitated, then said softly, "It was."
Arin felt the world go still around him. "What… do you mean?"
"Kid," Ronan said quietly, "that place vanished long ago. Some say it fell to ash, others say it was swallowed by the earth. Nobody really knows. But no one's heard of anyone from Aeryn Haven in decades."
Arin didn't speak. His throat tightened until breathing hurt.
He turned away, watching the empty fields stretch endlessly ahead.
Ronan adjusted the reins, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. "…Sorry. Didn't mean to hit a wound."
Arin shook his head faintly. "No. It's fine. Maybe… I already knew."
They rode in silence again.
The road ahead shimmered gold under the setting sun.
After some time, Arin asked, "Where does this road lead?"
Ronan pointed forward. "Two paths. East leads toward Ciren Vale — long road, long life. Takes weeks by horse. West… goes to Valenreach."
Arin frowned. "Valenreach?"
Ronan nodded. "A nation, not a city. Big, wealthy, full of rules and strange faces. People say it stretches from one sea to another. Dangerous, but alive."
Arin leaned forward, curiosity fighting exhaustion. "And you're going there?"
"Aye," Ronan said, smiling faintly beneath his beard. "Got goods to sell and stories to trade. You can come along if you've nowhere else to go. Safer that way."
Arin looked at him for a long moment, unsure if he could trust this man — or himself. But when he turned his eyes back toward the forest, still dark and silent in the distance, the choice became easy.
"I'll come," he said.
Ronan grinned. "Good. Haven't had decent company in months. You can help me watch for raiders — and I'll teach you how to cook something that doesn't taste like tree bark."
Arin laughed quietly, surprising even himself. It sounded strange — rusty, like a sound forgotten.
The cart rolled on, the sun dipping low behind them. The forest that had once caged him was now just a shadow fading in the distance. Ahead lay the road, wide and open — and for the first time in a long while, Arin didn't feel trapped.
He leaned back against the crates, eyelids heavy, the sound of hooves and wheels steady beneath him.
Ronan began to hum an old traveling tune — rough, but warm, a sound of life continuing.
As Arin's eyes closed, the road stretched endlessly into the golden dusk.
And somewhere far behind them, the wind whispered through the trees — not like it was watching, but like it was letting him go.