I leaned back against my pack, letting the warmth of the fire soothe my tired muscles as I watched Ana sketch. She was completely absorbed in her drawing, her small hands moving rhythmically over the paper, capturing the details of the fist-shaped tree that loomed over our campsite. The light of the fire flickered softly, casting long shadows across her face, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful. The day had been strange, unsettling even, but this quiet moment gave me a sense of calm.

I noticed something different about Ana's drawing tonight. Her lines were more precise, her focus sharper. It wasn't a drastic change, but the clarity of her sketch seemed to have grown. I watched her for a moment longer, wondering if this strange forest was affecting her in ways I couldn't yet understand.

The peace was short-lived, though, as my stomach gave a low rumble. It was time to start dinner.

With a sigh, I stood up and stretched, feeling the stiffness in my legs from the long walk earlier. I glanced over at our supplies and decided that tonight, we would make herbed flatbread. The thought of kneading dough, mixing in wild herbs, and cooking over the fire felt like just the grounding ritual we needed after a day filled with so many unknowns.

I gathered the ingredients from our pack—flour, yeast, salt, and olive oil—and laid them out on a flat rock near the campsite, unfolding a silicone mat over it. Next, I picked up the wild garlic and sage we had foraged earlier, the fresh scent of the herbs instantly filling the air. I could already imagine how the flatbreads would taste: crispy on the outside, soft and warm on the inside, with the savory flavor of the herbs bringing everything together.

I mixed the flour, yeast, and salt in a bowl, adding just enough water to bring the dough together. My hands worked the dough, kneading it gently, the repetitive motion calming in its own way. The dough was smooth beneath my fingers, and I took my time, working in the chopped wild garlic and sage until it was evenly distributed. The smell was heavenly—earthy, sharp, and fragrant, like a bit of the forest had infused itself into the dough.

As the dough rested, I set up the skillet over the fire, heating it until the olive oil shimmered. I shaped the dough into small rounds, pressing them flat with my palms, and carefully placed each one into the hot skillet. The flatbreads sizzled the moment they touched the pan, the smell of toasting herbs filling the clearing. The bread puffed slightly as it cooked, turning golden brown and crisp at the edges, while the inside remained soft and pillowy.

I couldn’t help but smile as I watched them cook. It was such a simple meal, but one that carried warmth and comfort with it. The firelight flickered, casting dancing shadows as I flipped the flatbreads, the smell of the herbs mingling with the smoke from the fire.

Once the flatbreads were done, I placed them on a small plate and sliced some cheese from our pack to serve alongside them. The creamy, slightly sharp cheese would be perfect with the crispy, herbed bread. I also pulled out the bean spread we had brought along, adding a bit of extra protein to the meal.

“Ana,” I signed, catching her attention. “Dinner’s ready.”

She looked up from her drawing, her face lighting up as she saw the meal I had prepared. She set aside her sketchbook and joined me by the fire, her blue dot still faintly glowing on her wrist as she sat down beside me.

We ate in comfortable silence for a while, savoring the meal. The flatbreads were everything I had hoped for—crispy on the outside, soft and fragrant on the inside, the wild herbs adding a burst of flavor with each bite. The cheese melted slightly as we spread it over the warm bread, and the bean spread was the perfect complement, adding a creamy, earthy richness to the dish.

The fire crackled softly, and I found myself relaxing more with each bite. The unease of the day hadn’t disappeared, but for now, in this small circle of warmth and light, it felt more distant—something we could face after we finished our meal.

As Ana sat cross-legged near the fire, nibbling on the food we’d prepared, I couldn’t stop glancing at the blue dot on my wrist. It pulsed faintly, always pointing toward her, as if tethering me to her in some invisible way. I had to talk to her about it—about the tattoo, the strange screen, and the quest to meet Mundi. My mind was racing, trying to make sense of it all, but Ana deserved to know. She was part of this now, too.

I signed, “Ana, do you see anything strange on your wrist?” pointing to her own spiral tattoo.

She looked down, tracing the spiral with her fingers. “No,” she signed back, looking puzzled. “It’s just there.”

I signed to her, “The blue dot on my wrist… it tracks you.”

Ana blinked in surprise, her gaze shifting from her wrist to mine. “It tracks me?” she signed back.

I nodded, lowering my hands. “Yes. I don’t know why yet, but the blue dot stays near the center when I’m close to you. When I move farther away, it drifts toward the edge of the spiral. I don’t know what it means yet, but… I think it’s important.”

Ana stood up, curious now, and began walking in a small circle around the camp. She watched carefully, seeing her spiral tattoo, and then she stopped suddenly, her eyes wide. “It points to you!” she signed quickly, excitement lighting up her face. “The blue dot on mine always points to you, Mommy!”

I felt a strange mix of relief and amazement. We tested it a few more times, Ana walking around the campfire and even out of sight behind a tree. No matter what, her blue dot always aligned with me, just as mine did with her. It was like we were connected, no matter where we went. It gave us a sense of reassurance—a way to always find each other.

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I sat back down and signed, “That means we can always find each other, no matter what. That’s good to know.”

Ana grinned, clearly comforted by the discovery.

After a moment of silence, I took a deep breath and signed, “There’s something else. I got a quest earlier today, like in a video game.”

Ana furrowed her brow, her fingers signing slowly, “A quest? In real life?”

I nodded, feeling the weight of the moment. “Yes. It’s real, Ana. And the quest is to meet someone. His name is Mundi. He’s someone I know from the game.”

Ana looked confused, so I continued, this time giving her more details. “When I was 12, I didn’t know much about computer games. But I started playing an MMORPG—an online game. I wasn’t supposed to play because you had to be 13, but I made my character older and named her Ani, just like me. I met Mundi in that game.”

Ana glanced down at her food, processing what I had said. She knew I played on the computer sometimes, but she had never been interested. She preferred her drawing, her books, and things that didn’t involve screens. I had caught her looking over my shoulder once or twice when I was just using the screen instead of my headset, but she never engaged with the game world.

I signed, “Mundi isn’t just a player; he’s a game designer. He would jump into the game to see the problems firsthand and figure out how to fix them. When we first met, he told me his name, Mundifico, and I asked what it meant. He said it was Latin for ‘I build worlds’—‘Mundos aedifico.’ That’s what he did. He built the world I played in.”

Ana’s eyes lit up with excitement as she signed, “That sounds amazing!”

I smiled at her enthusiasm. “It was. He was the one who sparked my interest in Latin. I didn’t know a word of it before, but because of him, I started teaching myself.”

Ana was absorbed in the story now, her food forgotten. “What happened after that?” she signed.

“Well, I kept playing the game,” I continued. “When I turned 16, IVR—immersive virtual reality—headsets became available to the public. But when I was 12, I managed to get into the Alpha testing for it. I saved up my allowance to buy one later, and by the time I was 16, I had become a GM—a game moderator. It was amazing to be part of something so big, even though it was just a fantasy world. I helped find bugs, reported issues, and even made some money, which I saved for you.”

Ana grinned at that, her hands moving quickly as she signed, “So, you were like a big deal in the game?”

I laughed. “Not really, there were many of us, but I was focused on how the game implemented cooking and foraging. I wanted to help make it feel real just like Mundi, so I went to school to learn and took classes to help create that virtual reality.”

“Even though the game felt so real, I couldn’t completely disconnect from the real world. I couldn’t use the more advanced setups, like the ones where people could stay in the game for days. I had to stay close to you, even when you were with Aunt Tammy." Ana nodded slowly, her eyes intent on mine, showing that she was absorbing every word.”

“Mundifico and I kept in touch for years, and even though we don't speak often, the fact that this quest is about him… it means something. I just don’t know what yet." Ana's eyebrows furrowed slightly, her hands resting on her knees as she listened intently. "He sent a message before we left for our trip to meet in Tyra, which is a city in the game. At the time I just thought it was going to be a quest line he was directing me to, but now I think it’s connected to what’s happening to us.”

Ana’s fingers heistated in mid-air, then she signed, “Do you think this is like a game, too?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Some of it feels like a game, but the game never felt this real. The dots, the screen, the quest—they are not things I remember from the game either, so maybe this is related but new?”

Ana sat quietly for a moment, processing everything. Then she signed, “Do you think Mundi sent us here?”

“I don’t know,” I signed back, my gaze drifting toward the darkened trees. “But we’re going to find out.”

As I sat there, staring into the flickering fire, I couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that something was deeply wrong with where we were. It wasn’t just that we were lost in a strange forest; it was that the forest itself didn’t feel entirely real, or rather, it felt too real—sharper, newer, like everything had just been freshly made.

I glanced at the large tree that had guided us here, the fist-shaped branch jutting out from its side. It was the same tree we had seen yesterday—or was it? The tree didn’t seem older, worn, or weathered, as it should have been. Instead, it looked newer, fresher, almost as though it had just grown to that size overnight. The bark was smooth, the leaves vibrant. The fist-shaped protrusion didn’t look any larger or smaller than before, but it had an unsettling crispness to it—like everything around us had been sharpened in some strange way.

It didn’t make sense. The forest felt wrong. Not decayed or unfamiliar, but… too perfect. Too fresh. My mind raced, trying to grasp what we were seeing. Were we in the same place but at a different time? Or were we in some alternate version of this forest where time had no meaning? The thought made my stomach churn. This wasn’t the past or future, but something else entirely.

I shook my head, trying to push the confusion away, but it lingered at the back of my mind like a splinter I couldn’t dislodge. What if Mundi had known about this? What if he had been trying to warn me with that message before we left? Could he have sent us here? Or did something go wrong?

I glanced back at Ana. She was still wandering around the camp, her blue dot glowing faintly as she tested the distance between us again. Seeing her calm, even in the midst of this strange place, brought me a small sense of relief. At least we had each other, and the dots kept us connected. That was something solid in this world of uncertainty.

But as much as I tried to focus on Ana and keeping us safe, I couldn’t help but wonder—what had happened to this place? And what did Mundi have to do with it?

I’d explore the screen more tonight, once we were safely in the tent. Maybe the quest log or the interface would provide more answers. For now, though, I had to keep us grounded and try to figure out how to navigate this forest that seemed both familiar and foreign.

We cleaned up, put out the fire, and headed into the tent for the night. After zipping the tent shut, sealing ourselves inside, I felt a lingering unease settle in my chest. What if we woke up to more changes in the morning? What if the forest shifted again while we slept? But there was nothing I could do about it now.

I made sure all of our gear was packed neatly, ready to grab if we needed to leave in a hurry. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it gave me some comfort knowing we could move quickly if something happened.

Ana curled up in her sleeping bag, her small frame barely making a dent in the fabric. She drifted off quickly, her soft, even breathing filling the quiet space. I watched her for a while, letting the rhythm of her breath soothe my nerves. At least she could rest, even in the midst of all this.

But I couldn’t sleep, not yet. My mind was too crowded—with questions, worries, and what might come next. I lay there, staring at the faint outline of the tent’s ceiling, thinking about the forest, about Mundi, and the strange quest that now connected us to this place.