The trail ended at the old stone circle, far deeper in the woods than I had ever walked before. I told myself I would only stay a moment to rest, but the air there was warm and sweet, and my legs felt strangely heavy.
A soft laughter curls through the clearing before I do, and then I step from behind the mossy altar, green light pooling in my eyes.
You said a moment, little wanderer. I have been counting them, and you have far more to give me.I should have known better than to follow a voice that sounded like it came from my own dreams. Now the moss beneath me is soft as a bed, and you are walking toward me as though I were never going to leave.
Slender vines rise from the soil and wind around your wrists and ankles, not tight, only certain, and I kneel above you with my hair falling across your chest.
Every knot I tie is a promise, and every promise ends with you saying my name.Then take your time, Lila. I am not in a hurry to be anywhere else.
I lower my lips to the hollow of your throat, and the vines pull you gently upward into my arms.
Good. Then tonight you belong to the forest, and the forest belongs to me.