The area up to a certain distance from the house was my mother's and my domain, and having wandered there since birth, it was as familiar to me as our own front yard.

I knew exactly which places were dangerous, which were safe, and even what kinds of animals lived in different areas.

But beyond that territory, this forest was just as mysterious to me as it was to anyone else.

Unlike my parents, who had come from the outside world, I was born and raised at the heart of this forest.

I had only ever stayed close to our small home in the forest, like a yolk inside an egg, so I had no idea where the forest began or ended, or how far it stretched.

Of course, before setting out, I had received some guidance. I knew at least which direction led to a city.

But what my mother taught me was simple.

As long as I didn’t go east, I would eventually reach a city no matter which direction I went.

It would just take a long time, because this forest was as large as a small country.

To the east, there were mountain ranges.

My mother had warned me countless times not to go that way because crossing the mountains was extremely difficult.

If she spoke that strongly, it was probably as good as a death sentence to wander in that direction.

"…."

I looked around.

It had been ten days since I left home.

The landscape today looked the same as it had yesterday and the day before.

Even now, it was the same.

The trees and underbrush here were just like the ones I had seen before.

Judging by the direction of the rising and setting sun, I was definitely heading west.

But... was I really on the right path?

If I kept going in this direction, would I really reach a city?

"Sigh."

I was losing confidence.

I thought I knew the forest well, but that was only because I was near home, and my mother had shown me the way.

Without her here, I was like someone blindly groping an elephant, trying to figure out if it was a tail or a leg.

‘Well, I do have the map that Mother drew.’

I glanced at the piece of paper I had and let out a long sigh.

A few circles—that was all there was on the map.

The largest circle represented the forest.

To the left of it was a circle labeled “Capital,” and there was another circle beneath both the forest and the capital.

When I first set out, I thought this map would at least help me orient myself, but after walking for a few days, I realized it was practically useless.

If I didn’t know where I was, what good was a map like this?

I needed a GPS.

The circle next to the forest was supposed to be the capital, but there were probably countless villages and small towns before I reached it.

Mother had skipped over all that.

"…."

This map was honestly useless.

How had my mother found her way into the depths of this forest to build a home and live here?

Or maybe she hadn’t known the way at all—maybe she’d simply wandered in until she found a suitable spot to settle down.

Knowing her, that seemed more likely.

I looked up at the sky, sighed deeply about ten times, and then began gathering firewood.

Night was coming soon, and with it, the beasts that roamed in search of prey.

Without a campfire, I’d have to stay alert all night, wary of those creatures.

"…."

It was a blessing that beasts were afraid of fire.

I gathered enough wood to light a fire and skewered the bird I’d caught earlier on a long stick, roasting it over the flames.

Tonight’s dinner was an entire roasted bird.

The smell became savory as the bird cooked, and just as it was beginning to smell appetizing, I heard a desperate bird call from the distance.

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Tweet—tweet—tweeet—tweet.

It sounded almost like a bird blowing a whistle.

If I were at home, I would have ignored such a sound.

But I was alone now.

There was no one to talk to all day.

Mumbling to myself as I walked had worked for a day or two, but after ten days, I was getting a bit lonely, in need of some kind of entertainment.

I stood up and headed in the direction of the bird call.

The sound was coming from a densely overgrown hillside.

The grass and vines were so tall that the ground couldn’t be seen.

The vegetation stood taller than my own height, which was well over two meters.

Anyone inexperienced might have thought it was solid ground, only to step in and tumble down.

Hmm, with all these overgrown plants, there might be thorn bushes, and cutting through this would be a hassle.

‘The roasted bird is almost ready anyway. Maybe I should just head back and eat.’

With that thought, I was about to turn around when I heard a low growl, followed by a frantic bird cry.

Tweet-tweet-tweeet—tweet-tweet—tweet-tweet!

It sounded like the bird was in a fight with a predator.

It reminded me of myself, fighting that bear when I was younger, and I couldn’t just ignore it.

If David and Goliath were fighting, you’d want to root for David, right?

Alright, if I’m going to do this, let’s move quickly.

I pulled the axe from my back and swung it at the brush.

With a strong gust of wind, the thick grass parted as if sliced by a knife.

After a couple of swings, I reached a point where thorn bushes had tangled with other plants.

It was still hard to see clearly through the thick foliage, but the bird’s cries were coming from that area.

Even though I was strong, my skin wasn’t made of steel.

It would hurt if I got pricked by thorns.

I cautiously inserted the axe into the thicket, trying not to let my body touch the bushes.

Peering through the gap, I saw a hollow area close to the ground.

Two weasels had cornered a small bird.

The weasels didn’t run even after seeing me.

The dense foliage acted as a barrier between them and me.

They must have weighed the risk versus the reward and figured they could get away if things turned against them.

“Hey!”

My eyes widened.

I expected the bird challenging the weasels to be small.

The cry wasn’t that of a large bird.

After living in the forest for so long, you start to develop a sense for these things, though, of course, I could be wrong.

In this case, I wasn’t.

The bird was indeed small.

But I hadn’t expected it to be this small.

If it had the guts to challenge two weasels, I thought it would be at least the size of a pigeon.

But the tiny bird chirping and bravely facing the weasels was no bigger than a newly hatched chick.

It was about the size of my finger.

Really tiny.

The two weasels had the small bird cornered and were just about to kill it.

“You little devils!”

I yelled and swung my axe horizontally.

The thick branches tangled with thorns scattered to the ground in an instant.

By the time I raised my axe again, the two weasels had already disappeared.

With the weasels gone, the tiny bird let out a small, pitiful chirp as if trying to threaten me, then collapsed to the ground.

When I reached out my hand, the little bird tried to peck at me with its small beak.

But in the next moment, it seemed to lose strength, and its tiny head fell into my palm like a toy running out of batteries.

It was still breathing, so it must have fainted.

Returning to the campfire with the bird, I carefully examined it and, surprisingly, it didn’t seem to have any injuries.

Some feathers were missing, but that was all.

And for some reason, parts of its feathers looked slightly singed.

Its plumage was a bit dirty-looking, a grayish color.

Touching the bird, I realized it was still young, as its feathers were soft and downy.

“How did a young chick like you get separated from your mother and end up wandering around here?”

This forest was an impossible place for any young creature to survive.

If it weren’t for me, this tiny bird would have become someone else’s meal, if not the weasels’.

Hmm, thinking about it, I should take care of it until I leave the forest.

If I found a village later, I could leave it near there.

It would certainly be safer than the forest.

I gathered some leaves near the campfire and made a small nest for the bird.

The little bird sank into the soft leaves.

‘Cute.’

Something inside me felt soothed.

Maybe this was why people kept pets.

Chewing on my roasted bird, seasoned with a bit of the salt my mother had given me, I spoke to the unconscious chick.

“Hey little one, which way do you think we should go to reach the city?”

"…."

Naturally, there was no response from the fainted bird.

“I have a feeling I might be lost.”

"…."

“Well, there’s no fixed destination anyway, so wandering a bit is fine. But it’s starting to feel like I might never make it out of this forest, and that’s making me a bit uneasy.”

"…."

“I was born here, grew up hopping around the forest like a monkey, but it was only near the house. In my past life, I was a city dweller. I had never even gone hiking before. Maybe that’s why, but I’m totally clueless without a GPS.”

Trying to find my way just by watching the position of the sun was truly a hopeless endeavor.

I let out a small sigh and carefully tied up the salt pouch.

Salt was precious.

In our forest home, it was harder to come by than meat.

Mother had made sure we were well-stocked with salt when she first built our house, but it had been more than twenty years since she settled here.

The supply was running low, and if I ever made enough money, I wanted to buy salt and bring it home.

It would make for a great gift.

“But honestly, I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to find my way back home.”

I was trying to remember the path and leave markings along the way, but would that really be enough to lead me back?

Everything looked the same.

A map seemed meaningless in a place like this, and I didn’t feel confident at all.

It seemed like I would be saying a permanent farewell to my parents.

Simply because I couldn’t find my way.

Feeling utterly pathetic, I let out a long sigh, and at that moment, the little bird suddenly lifted its head.

It woke up as abruptly as it had fainted.

“Tweet-tweet! Tweeet! Tweet-tweet-tweet!”

Maybe it thought I was the enemy because it flapped its wings and stumbled out of the pile of leaves.

It waddled hurriedly, or at least it tried, but it was terribly slow.

“You little rascal, if you keep that up, you’ll get caught by a weasel again.”

I gently caught the bird, careful not to hurt it, and placed it back in the leaves, but this determined little one, who had dared to challenge the weasels, refused to give up. It wobbled and waddled out again.

After several rounds of this back and forth, I decided to give it a name.

“Even if we’re only together for a short while, it’s inconvenient not to have a name. I’ll call you ‘Rella.’ From Cinderella, the one covered in ash.”

It was because the bird’s feathers were gray, and its waddling reminded me of someone who had fallen down a chimney.

Hearing my words, the little bird chirped noisily at me as if understanding something.

It flapped its wings, trying to threaten me, despite not even being able to fly.

“It’s not a bad name. Cinderella ends up marrying a prince and living happily ever after. Maybe when you grow up, even your gray feathers will look a bit prettier.”

I gently stroked the chick with my finger, and it started pecking at me in anger.

Ah, this little thing, so cute.

It was so small, even glaring at me looked adorable.

“For now, stay with me until we get out of the forest, Rella.”

“Tweet! Tweet-tweet-tweet-tweet!”

Rella seemed happy—no, let’s be honest, she didn’t look happy at all.

She chirped at me furiously, as if she’d come across her mortal enemy.