Naomi Davis
The midday sun beat down on the open field, golden stalks of tall grass swaying gently in the breeze. Naomi Davis blinked as the light stung her eyes, one hand instinctively raised to shield her face. Her sneakers crunched against the dry ground as she took a shaky step forward, the world around her silent save for the rustle of grass.
It wasn’t her backyard. It wasn’t the park she had walked through with her friends. It wasn’t anywhere she recognized.
She turned in place, her breath catching as she took in the vast, unfamiliar landscape. No buildings, no streets, no people—just an endless sea of golden grass, bordered by a thick forest in the distance. Her heart hammered in her chest, fear clawing at her mind.
But Naomi Davis wasn’t the type to panic. At least, not yet.
She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her smartphone, her lifeline to the world. The screen flickered on, and her stomach twisted. No signal. The little bars in the corner that should have connected her to her parents, her friends, and the comforting familiarity of home were missing entirely.
“What the heck?” she muttered, swiping furiously through her apps. The phone’s clock still worked—1:47 PM—but there was no Wi-Fi, no GPS, nothing that told her where she was.
Naomi bit her lip, forcing herself to breathe. “Okay. Think, Naomi. You’re smart. You’ve got this.”
She scanned the horizon again, her mind racing. This wasn’t a prank. It couldn’t be. Her friends weren’t exactly the “drop someone in the middle of nowhere” type, and the sheer scale of this place—this weird, quiet, endless field—felt far too real.
Her fingers tightened around the phone as she glanced at the battery percentage. 62%. Not great, but it would last if she was careful. Maybe she’d figure out how to use it later—right now, she had to focus on what was in front of her.
The quiet around her was unnerving. No cars, no voices, no airplanes in the sky. Just wind and the occasional chirp of some unseen bird. Naomi took a tentative step forward, then another, her sneakers brushing against the grass. She turned toward the forest in the distance—it wasn’t ideal, but at least it offered some shade and maybe water.
As she walked, she muttered to herself. “This is like… a movie, right? Like one of those survival shows Dad likes. What do they always say? Find water. Stay calm. Don’t freak out.”
Her voice cracked on the last part, but she kept moving. The forest felt impossibly far away, and with every step, the weight of her situation pressed down harder. She stopped for a moment, looking at the phone again, as if it might magically fix everything. It didn’t.
“Great. Just great,” she mumbled, kicking at a clump of dirt. “If this is some kind of portal thing, I’m gonna lose it.”
Naomi paused, glancing over her shoulder. The field stretched out endlessly behind her, no sign of where she’d come from. She wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten here. One moment, she’d been stepping through her front door—the next, this.
Naomi clenched her fists, her mind flashing to the survival books she’d read and the hours she’d spent watching nature documentaries. She might not have camping gear or a map, but she wasn’t going to just sit around and cry. That wouldn’t help. Instead, she made a list in her head:
1. Find water.
2. Find shelter.
3. Figure out what the heck is going on.
Her fingers tightened around the phone as she started walking again, her chin lifting slightly. “Whatever this is,” she whispered to herself, “I’ll figure it out. I just have to.”
The sun hung high in the sky, its warmth pressing down on Naomi as she trudged through the tall grass. The golden stalks swayed gently in the breeze, but they seemed endless, like an ocean she’d never escape. Her sneakers scraped against the dry earth, and every step felt heavier than the last.
Naomi paused, her breathing uneven as she wiped sweat from her brow. Her throat was dry, her stomach aching with hunger, but she pushed the thoughts aside. There had to be something out here—someone. She couldn’t let herself believe she was alone.
She turned in a slow circle, shielding her eyes with one hand as she scanned the horizon. Just more grass, trees in the distance, and… Her heart skipped a beat. Something—something thin and gray, rising faintly against the blue sky.
Smoke?
Naomi squinted, her pulse quickening. It was hard to tell—whatever it was, it was so far away, barely a wisp above the horizon. It could’ve been a trick of the light, a cloud drifting too low, or even just her mind playing games. But if it wasn’t…
Her grip on her phone tightened as she stared at the faint trail. “It’s something,” she muttered, her voice hoarse. “It has to be.”
She glanced down at her phone, its battery now at 56%, and sighed. No maps, no signal, no help. But the smoke—or whatever it was—gave her direction. A chance. Her feet shifted instinctively, pointing her toward it, though her legs already ached at the thought of how far it might be.
“Okay, Naomi. You’ve got this,” she whispered to herself. “One step at a time.”
Her father’s voice echoed faintly in her mind, something he’d said when she was younger and scared of climbing the rock wall at summer camp. “Focus on what’s right in front of you. Don’t think about how high you have to go—just take it one step at a time.”
She took a deep breath, nodding to herself. “One step at a time.”
With the faint trail of smoke as her guide, Naomi set off again. The grass brushed against her jeans as she walked, the heat pressing against her back. Every now and then, she glanced up, making sure the smoke was still there. It was—just barely.
“Please be something,” she murmured. “Anything. Just… don’t disappear.”
With the faint trail of smoke as her guide, Naomi trudged on. The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the sky in muted shades of orange and pink. Her feet ached, every step heavier than the last, and her jeans clung uncomfortably to her legs, damp with sweat. The heat still pressed against her, though it was starting to ease with the fading daylight.
The forest was closer now, its dark line of trees looming larger with every step. The open fields around her had slowly transitioned to uneven ground, dotted with shrubs and scattered patches of taller grass. She squinted upward, searching for the smoke, but it was harder to see now. The trees were starting to obstruct her view, their branches forming a thick, shifting canopy that seemed to blur the edges of the horizon.
Naomi stopped for a moment, breathing heavily as she scanned the sky again. “Where is it?” she muttered, her voice hoarse. She shifted on her feet, her hand instinctively brushing against the phone in her pocket. The faint trail of smoke that had been her guide all this time seemed to have vanished behind the trees, leaving her unsure of its direction.
She stared at the forest ahead. It was closer than she’d realized, its shadow stretching out toward her like an invitation—or a warning. Her stomach twisted. The trees looked so dense now, so alive, their darkened trunks standing like silent sentinels. Even the air felt heavier the closer she got, cooler but tinged with a faint earthy scent.
Naomi rubbed her arm, trying to shake off the unease. “Do I go in now or wait?” she murmured to herself. She glanced over her shoulder, back at the open field behind her. Out here, she could still see the sky, still know where she was going—even if her guide was gone for the moment. But staying out here meant being exposed. Night was creeping in fast, and she had no idea what kind of animals—or worse—might come out after dark.
Her eyes flicked back to the forest. If she entered now, she’d have some light to work with, maybe enough to find a safe place to rest. But the thought of venturing into that darkness sent a chill down her spine.
She fished her phone out of her pocket, checking for service what felt like the hundredth time. Still nothing. She slipped it back into her pocket with a frustrated sigh, looking once more at the trees.
“Come on, Naomi,” she muttered, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “It’s just a forest. Just trees. Keep going.”
But her legs felt heavy, and the ache in her feet whispered at her to stop, to wait, to rest. She shook her head, trying to push the thought away. Resting out here wasn’t an option—not with the sun already dipping lower.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to move again, stepping closer to the waiting shadows of the forest. “Just a little further,” she told herself. “Just enough to see what’s inside before it gets dark.”
The smoke might be gone, but she had come too far to stop now.
Naomi stepped into the forest, and the world immediately changed. The sun’s relentless heat vanished as the trees closed around her, their thick canopy casting a greenish-gray filter over everything. The golden light of evening struggled to pierce through the layers of leaves, breaking through in faint, dappled patches that danced on the forest floor. It felt like stepping into another realm—a cooler, quieter, and eerily alive one.
The air smelled damp, earthy, and rich, carrying the faint scent of moss and decaying leaves. Her sneakers crunched softly on the ground, the dry grass replaced by a bed of leaves, pine needles, and twigs. The sound echoed faintly, swallowed quickly by the dense foliage. The oppressive stillness of the open field was gone, replaced by the hum of life.
Birds chirped somewhere high above her, their songs sharp and clear. A faint rustle of leaves hinted at unseen creatures, skittering away at her presence. The deeper she walked, the more the sounds grew layered—chirps, clicks, and an occasional rustling that made her glance nervously over her shoulder.
The colors around her were muted but vibrant in their own way. The greens were deep and varied: the glossy sheen of ivy clinging to tree trunks, the pale moss carpeting the roots, the dark pine needles above. Shades of brown and gray mixed in—the rough texture of bark, the skeletal remains of fallen branches. Occasionally, a pop of color caught her eye: a cluster of tiny purple flowers nestled near the base of a tree or the bright orange of a mushroom growing on a rotting log. Everything felt alive in a way the open field had not.
Naomi paused to catch her breath, leaning against a tree. Its bark was rough and cool beneath her palm, and she closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sounds surround her. The breeze that had been so persistent in the open space above was now a soft whisper here, barely stirring the leaves. It carried a chill that brushed against her sweaty skin, sending a small shiver down her spine.
As she opened her eyes, the shadows seemed deeper than before, stretching across the forest floor. The thought of nightfall tightened her chest. The trees around her stood close, their towering trunks blocking any clear view of what lay ahead. Every direction looked the same—a wall of green and brown, broken only by the faint golden glow of the setting sun trying to sneak through.
Her hand brushed her pocket, checking for her phone. It was still there, though the comforting presence of it didn’t do much to calm the nerves crawling up her spine.
Naomi forced herself to take another step, then another. The forest felt endless, the pathless ground offering no clear direction. She kept moving, though, her fingers brushing against tree trunks as she passed, as if their solidity could keep her tethered.
As the sun continued to sink lower, the colors around her shifted. The greens darkened, tinged with blue as the light faded, and the golden patches on the ground became sparse. The light was starting to fade faster than Naomi had anticipated, the growing shadows in the forest feeling like they were starting to swallow everything.
Her footsteps slowed as unease crept into her chest. Every sound seemed louder now: the snap of a twig, the rustle of leaves, the distant call of an unseen bird. She flinched at a sudden movement to her right, only to see a branch swaying gently in the breeze. Her breathing quickened as she glanced around, shadows stretching and twisting in the dim light.
“Calm down, Naomi,” she whispered to herself, though her voice sounded small and uncertain. She hugged herself, trying to shake the chill that settled into her bones, but every step forward seemed heavier, more deliberate.
A crackling noise behind her made her spin around, her heart pounding, but there was nothing there—just the darkening trees and the faint shimmer of twilight filtering through the canopy. She turned back, moving faster now, almost stumbling over a root as her nerves frayed with each passing moment.
And then she saw it. A faint glowing light flickered ahead, soft but unmistakable against the dark backdrop of the forest. Her breath caught, and for a second, she stood frozen, staring at the light as her mind scrambled to make sense of it.
“Help!” she called out, her voice cracking as she broke into a run, the fear that had gripped her replaced by desperation. “Please, I need help!”
She sprinted toward the light, her voice echoing through the forest as she pushed aside branches and stumbled over uneven ground, her only focus on reaching that faint, glowing beacon.
She slowed as the source of the light came into view. It was a… flower. A massive bloom, probably as large as her head, perched atop a vine as thick as her arm. Its soft, glowing light bathed the area in a warm, golden hue, casting long shadows that seemed to retreat into the trees. The light wasn’t harsh or blinding; it felt soothing, almost like it was wrapping her in a gentle embrace.
Naomi’s breath hitched as she inched closer, her footsteps hesitant but drawn forward as if compelled. The flower swayed gently back and forth, as though it was alive, beckoning her with its rhythmic movements. The air around it seemed still, calm, and her racing heart slowed with each step she took toward it.
She stopped a few feet away, her eyes widening as she took in its details. Once you could see past the soft glow, the flower itself was stunning. Its petals were large and round, their surface smooth and velvety. They radiated a vivid pink that deepened in color as they reached their edges, fading into the most brilliant, otherworldly blue near the center of the bloom. The transition was seamless, the hues blending together like a watercolor painting brought to life.
At the very heart of the flower, where the pollen would normally be, sat delicate purple barbs that glimmered faintly with their own soft light. They almost looked like tiny shards of crystal, glinting as the flower swayed. Naomi couldn’t take her eyes off them; they were mesmerizing, like stars embedded within the bloom itself.
She stepped closer, the light washing over her face, its warmth pushing away the fear and exhaustion that had clung to her all day. The flower seemed impossibly alive, its beauty more vibrant and captivating than anything she’d ever seen. Naomi extended a hand hesitantly, almost unconsciously, as if to touch it. The thought of its light, its warmth, and its beauty consumed her in that moment.
Her hand was just inches away from the flower when a voice broke through the stillness, sharp and stammering.
“N, n, no! No touch!”
She froze, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes darted around, searching for the source of the voice. But before she could fully process what was happening, the flower jerked forward, almost as if alive. The delicate purple barbs in its center shot outward, one piercing her middle finger like a needle.
A sharp sting erupted in her hand, and Naomi let out a shout, stumbling backward as she instinctively clutched her finger. A bead of blood welled up where the barb had pricked her, but before she could even think about the pain, she felt something tighten around her ankle.
She looked down and screamed. A thick vine, the same as the one holding the glowing flower, had wrapped itself around her ankle. It writhed and twisted like a living snake, its grip firm and unyielding. Naomi tried to pull away, panic rising in her chest as she scrambled to retreat, but the vine yanked her back with startling strength.
“No! Let me go!” she cried, her voice trembling as she clawed at the ground, trying to gain some leverage. The vine tugged harder, dragging her closer to the flower. She kicked at it with her free foot, but it was no use—the vine only tightened its grip, pulling her closer with every struggle.
The flower swayed violently now, its glow pulsing in rhythm with her panic. The once-comforting light felt menacing, and the air around it grew thick, almost suffocating. Naomi’s heart pounded in her chest as she fought against the vine’s pull, her fingers scrambling for anything on the forest floor to hold onto.
“Help!” she yelled into the dark forest, her voice breaking. “Somebody, please!”
Out of the darkness, a small figure darted forward, fast and agile, a blur against the dim forest backdrop. Naomi barely had time to register the movement before a sharp, high-pitched voice rang out.
“Stay back! I cut! I cut!”
The figure lunged at the vine wrapped around her ankle, a tiny blade gleaming in the faint light of the flower. With a quick, precise slash, the vine recoiled, jerking back toward the flower as if in pain. Naomi felt the grip around her ankle loosen and scrambled backward, clutching her throbbing hand as the small figure turned toward her.
“Gets aways! Gets aways from flower, yip!” the voice said, breathless but forceful. The figure held the knife defensively, its body hunched low as if ready to attack again.
It was small—barely reaching her waist—but clearly humanoid, with wiry limbs and a hunched posture that made it look both agile and alert. Its skin was a mottled shade of earthy brown, almost blending with the forest around it, and faint, scale-like patches shimmered faintly on its arms and face. Large, expressive eyes glimmered in the faint light, their irises a striking gold that seemed to glow in the dark. Its sharp, angular snout jutted forward, lined with tiny, needle-like teeth that flashed briefly when it spoke, giving it a slightly feral appearance. The snout twitched as it sniffed the air, constantly moving, as if trying to catch every scent. Framed by oversized, bat-like ears that twitched at every sound, its features were undeniably otherworldly. A long, thin tail flicked nervously behind it, and its clothes were a patchwork of scraps—a mix of leather and cloth tied together with bits of string and what looked like vine. It clutched a small, jagged knife in its clawed hand, holding it defensively as it studied her.
Naomi scrambled further back, her heart pounding. “What… what are you?” she stammered, her voice trembling.
The figure tilted its head, studying her with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “Shmee,” it said simply, tapping its chest with a bony finger. “I Shmee. Kobold. What you?”
Naomi’s breath hitched, and she shook her head, pressing herself against the nearest tree. “What do you mean, what am I? I’m—I'm human!”
Shmee shook his head “Me KNOWS yous human, whats yous doing outs here in the woods? You child human, Not safes out heres for yous”
Naomi flinched, clutching her injured hand to her chest. “What are you talking about? Where even is here?”
Shmee stepped back cautiously, his knife still raised, though his stance softened slightly. “You loud. Loud bring bad things. Forest no like you,” he muttered, his eyes darting nervously to the shadows. “You… strange, You lost?”
“I didn’t know!” Naomi snapped, the fear in her voice giving way to frustration. “I didn’t know it would do that!, and yes, I'm lost…” she trailed off holding her throbbing hand
Shmee slowly put away his little knife and took a cautious step toward the child. “Shmee can help, bite vine bit you? Bite Vine hurts, bite vine toxic. You need mushroom! Shmee has mushrooms!”
Naomi’s heart skipped a beat, and her breath quickened. “Toxic?” she repeated, her voice cracking as she held her throbbing hand tighter. “What do you mean, toxic? Am I going to—am I going to die?”
Shmee tilted his head, his large ears twitching as he studied her hand. “No die… probably,” he said with a shrug, which did little to calm Naomi’s growing panic. “But hurts bad soon. Very bad. Shmee fix. Shmee fix fast!”
She stared at him, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her fear of him began to waver, replaced by a desperate hope that maybe—just maybe—this strange creature could help her. “How? What do you need?”
Shmee grinned, showing small, sharp teeth. “Mushroom! Shmee has good mushrooms. Heals vine bite. Fix hand.” He gestured for her to stay put as he darted off into the underbrush, his movements quick and skittering, like an animal.
Naomi sat frozen, her eyes darting nervously around the forest as the shadows seemed to grow deeper. Every sound felt amplified—the rustle of leaves, the creak of branches, the faint chirps of distant insects. She clutched her injured hand, wincing as the pain began to intensify, a dull throb turning into a sharp, burning sensation.
“Hurry,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Moments later, Shmee reappeared, his tiny arms dragging a rough, patchwork backpack that was nearly as large as he was. The pack scraped against the forest floor, rustling leaves and twigs as he struggled to haul it toward her. Finally, he dropped it at Naomi’s feet with an exaggerated huff, wiping his brow dramatically.
Shmee scurried around the pack, his movements quick and jittery, and flipped the flap over the top with a flourish. “Look! Mushrooms!” he declared proudly. The bag was stuffed to the brim with them, their muted orange caps speckled with faint blue dots that shimmered in the dim light like tiny stars.
Naomi stared at the pile, her unease growing. “All of those?” she asked, glancing between the mushrooms and Shmee, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Shmee nodded vigorously. “All good mushrooms! Shmee always ready. Forest has many bites, many poisons. Mushrooms fix!” He reached in and grabbed one, holding it up like a prized gem. “This best one. You eat! No scream later.”
Naomi’s stomach turned at the thought of eating one, but her hand throbbed painfully, the burning sensation creeping farther up her arm. She bit her lip, eyeing the strange, shimmering mushroom. “How do you even know these work?”
Shmee puffed out his chest, tapping it proudly. “Shmee know! Shmee tested. On self. On others.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “On big bad squirrel once. Squirrel okay!”
Naomi blinked, unsure whether to feel reassured or more terrified. She hesitated for a moment, then reached out, wincing as the movement sent a jolt of pain through her hand.
“Eat!” Shmee barked, holding one out to her.
Naomi recoiled. “Eat that? Are you kidding me?”
Shmee frowned, his expressive eyes narrowing. “No eat, no fix. Vine bite spreads. You eat or you hurt more.” He thrust the mushroom closer, insistent. “Trust Shmee. Shmee no want loud human scream in forest.”
Her stomach churned as she stared at the mushroom, but the fire-like pain in her hand was spreading, a tingling creeping up her arm. She didn’t have much of a choice. With a shaking hand, she grabbed the mushroom, wincing as her injured finger brushed against it.
“Just… just one?” she asked, her voice small.
Shmee nodded. “One now. Chew fast. No spit. No waste.”
Naomi closed her eyes and bit into the mushroom, the taste bitter and earthy. She gagged but forced herself to chew and swallow, the texture rubbery and unpleasant. She coughed, grimacing, as she swallowed the last bite.
“Good,” Shmee said, nodding approvingly. “Now wait. Shmee stay here. Watch you. Make sure no worse.”
Naomi leaned back against the tree, her head swimming as the pain in her hand began to dull slightly. She glanced at Shmee, who crouched a few feet away, watching her intently. For the first time, she saw not just a strange creature, but something that looked almost… concerned.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Shmee’s ears twitched, and he grinned again. “Shmee good helper. Human remember that.”
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Naomi hesitated, staring at the strange, glowing mushroom in her hand. The shimmering blue speckles and soft orange cap made it look almost magical, but the idea of eating something plucked out of a tattered bag in the middle of a strange forest still turned her stomach. Slowly, she lifted it to her mouth, her hand trembling.
She glanced at Shmee, who watched her intently, his ears twitching as if waiting for her to back out.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself, her voice shaking. “Here goes nothing.”
She bit into the mushroom, expecting bitterness or some foul, earthy flavor. But as she chewed, her eyes widened in surprise. It was… sweet. Not cloyingly so, but wonderfully, delicately sweet, like a blend of honey and fresh fruit. The texture, while a bit spongy, was soft and pleasant, melting as she continued to chew.
“It’s… not bad,” she muttered, more to herself than to Shmee, who grinned knowingly.
“Good mushroom,” Shmee said with a nod. “Shmee only carry best.”
As Naomi chewed, she began to notice something else. The sharp throbbing in her hand, which had been creeping up her arm, started to fade. The intense burn dulled to a faint ache, and then, with each bite, the ache softened further. By the time she swallowed the last bit of the mushroom, the pain in her hand was hardly noticeable at all.
She stared down at her injured finger in disbelief, flexing it cautiously. The swelling had already started to go down, and the angry redness around the puncture was fading.
“That’s… incredible,” she murmured, looking up at Shmee with wide eyes.
“Shmee told you,” he said proudly, puffing out his chest again. “Good mushrooms. Shmee no lie. Now human no scream, no cry.”
Naomi flexed her hand again, marveling at the swift relief. “Thank you,” she said, her voice soft but genuine. For a moment, she forgot the strangeness of the situation, the bizarre creature crouched a few feet away from her. All she could feel was gratitude—and maybe just a little awe.
She stared at the little creature for the first time aactually having a moment
Shmee’s ears twitched, and he nodded as if accepting the thanks was his due. “Shmee always help. But now you owe Shmee,” he added with a sly grin.
Naomi raised an eyebrow, her unease creeping back. “Owe you? What does that mean?”
Shmee’s ears twitched, and his tail flicked as he looked at her with a wide grin. “Yous trying to find safe place, yes? I knows safe place! Shmee sells mushrooms to innkeeper! Innkeeper gives Shmee good shinnies for good mushrooms!”
Naomi blinked, momentarily thrown off by his strange phrasing. “Shinnies?” she asked cautiously.
“Shinnies!” Shmee repeated enthusiastically, pointing to a small pouch hanging from his makeshift belt. It jingled faintly as he tapped it. “Gold, silver, shiny things! Humans love shinnies too, yes?”
Before Naomi could respond, Shmee scratched the back of his scaled head, his golden eyes narrowing with what looked like nervousness. “But… uh… Shmee’s pack very heavy,” he admitted, gesturing toward the oversized, mushroom-stuffed bag. “Yous maybe carry Shmee’s pack? Since Shmee helps, yous helps? Fair, yes? I take you to nice inn, yip!”
Naomi stared at him, her mouth slightly open. “You want me to carry that?” She pointed to the massive pack that looked like it weighed as much as he did.
Shmee nodded eagerly. “Yous human! Humans strong, yes? Shmee small, but Shmee knows good way! You carry, Shmee guide! Safe place, good trade!”
She hesitated, glancing at the bag and then back at Shmee’s hopeful expression. The idea of walking deeper into the forest with this strange creature—and carrying his ridiculously heavy pack—wasn’t exactly comforting. But the alternative of wandering aimlessly, alone, in the dark? That seemed worse.
With a sigh, she nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But if you’re lying about this inn, I’m dropping the bag and leaving.”
Shmee clapped his hands together, his sharp teeth flashing in a delighted grin. “Good! Good human! Yous see, Shmee always honest. Innkeeper likes Shmee. You like innkeeper too, yip!”
Naomi rolled her eyes and stepped toward the pack, already regretting her decision. “Yeah, we’ll see.”
The forest grew darker as they walked, the last remnants of twilight disappearing behind the thick canopy of leaves. Naomi struggled to keep up, the oversized pack slung awkwardly over her shoulders. It was heavier than she’d expected, and the uneven forest floor didn’t make things any easier.
Ahead of her, Shmee darted forward, his small frame blending into the shadows. He moved with an effortless speed, his long tail flicking behind him as he weaved between trees and over roots.
“Shmee!” Naomi whisper-hissed, stumbling over an exposed root. “Slow down!”
Shmee froze mid-step, his ears twitching as he turned back to her. He scurried closer, his glowing eyes wide with concern. “Oh! Sorry, sorry! Shmee forgets humans not see so good in dark, yip!”
Naomi adjusted the pack with a frustrated huff, squinting in the near-total darkness. “Yeah, well, some of us don’t have giant night-vision eyes!” she shot back, her voice hushed but sharp.
Shmee tilted his head, blinking as if confused by her tone. “Shmee’s eyes not giant,” he said, poking the corner of one. “Just good. But okay, okay, Shmee go slower! No leave human behind.”
Naomi sighed, her frustration easing slightly as he stepped closer, staying within her line of sight. He scurried back to the front but moved at a slower pace this time, glancing over his shoulder every few steps to make sure she was following.
“Better?” he asked, his voice low but still carrying an odd note of pride, as though this small gesture was a great favor.
“Better,” Naomi muttered, shaking her head. “You’d think you’d be used to walking with humans if you trade with them so much.”
“Humans fast in day,” Shmee replied with a shrug. “Slow at night. Shmee forgets sometimes. But Shmee good guide now, yes?”
Naomi adjusted the pack again and nodded, even though she doubted he could see it. “Yeah, you’re a great guide,” she said dryly. “Just don’t lose me, okay?”
“Shmee never lose human!” he declared, puffing out his chest. “Humans important customers. No lose!”
Naomi rolled her eyes but couldn’t help a small smile as she trudged after him, her steps slightly lighter now that Shmee kept close. The forest no longer felt as menacing with the strange little kobold leading the way.
As they walked, Naomi noticed a peculiar habit of Shmee’s. Every fifteen or twenty feet, the kobold would stop abruptly, making her nearly bump into him. He would stretch his wiry body as straight as he could, standing on the tips of his clawed toes. His large ears perked high, twitching subtly, while his nose quivered, sniffing at the air with rapid little inhales.
Naomi paused each time, watching him warily. “What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the forest’s ambient rustling.
“Shmee checks,” he replied without turning, his voice low and focused. “Forest full of dangers. Must watch. Must listen. Must smell!”
He slowly turned his head, scanning the shadows with those sharp, glowing eyes. His tail flicked once, a sign that he wasn’t just indulging in some odd kobold quirk. After a moment, his posture relaxed, and he scurried forward again.
Naomi huffed, shifting the heavy pack on her shoulders as she trudged after him. The next time he stopped and stretched, she let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you have to do that every few steps? It’s not exactly reassuring.”
“Yip!” Shmee said, glancing back at her with a serious expression. “Shmee must! Forest is tricky. Always move, always hide things. Quiet things. Sometimes big things.” His ears twitched again, and his nose gave another round of frantic sniffing before he dropped back down to his usual crouched stance. “Shmee keep human safe! No sneaky bad things get us.”
Naomi frowned, her unease growing. “What kind of… sneaky bad things?”
Shmee hesitated, scratching his snout nervously. “Mmm… depends,” he said cryptically. “Sometimes big toothy things. Sometimes slither things. Sometimes… vine flowers.” He shuddered at the last mention, his eyes narrowing as though he could feel them watching even now.
“Great,” Naomi muttered under her breath, gripping the straps of the pack tighter. She glanced around the darkened forest, her human eyes unable to see more than vague shapes beyond a few feet. She hated how vulnerable she felt, relying entirely on Shmee’s odd but apparently effective instincts.
“Shmee know forest,” he said reassuringly, noticing her hesitation. “No worry! Shmee good guide. If danger, Shmee knows first!”
“That’s… comforting,” she said dryly, even as she found herself grateful for his odd vigilance.
They continued walking, and each time Shmee paused to stretch, scan, and sniff the air, Naomi felt a little more on edge. Still, she reminded herself that as strange as he was, She would have been in serious trouble already without Shmee.
They struggled through the forest for what felt like hours, the dense undergrowth clawing at Naomi’s legs and the uneven terrain threatening to trip her with every step. The heavy pack on her shoulders felt like it was pulling her into the ground, and every muscle in her body screamed in protest.
“Shmee, we have to stop,” she panted, her voice trembling with exhaustion. “I need a break.”
Shmee skidded to a halt, his tail flicking impatiently. He turned back to her with a tilt of his head. “Stops? We’s almost there!”
Naomi glared at him, her breathing labored as she leaned against a nearby tree. “You’ve said that ten times! I’ve been walking all frigging day! With no food or water!” She gestured sharply to the heavy pack on her back. “I need a break!”
Shmee blinked, his large ears twitching nervously at her outburst. “Fines, fines, fines,” he muttered, waving his claws in the air as if trying to calm her down. “Wes stops here for a bit, yes? You’s rests. Shmee go scout around, make sure alls safes, yip?”
Naomi let the pack drop from her shoulders with a heavy thud, wincing as the sudden release sent a jolt through her tired muscles. She slid down to the ground, resting her back against the rough bark of a tree. “Fine. But don’t take too long,” she said, closing her eyes briefly as her body sagged with relief.
“Shmee quick, quick! Always quick!” he said with a nod, already darting off into the shadows. Before she could reply, he disappeared from sight, his quiet muttering fading into the forest.
Naomi sighed, her frustration still simmering beneath her exhaustion. She rubbed her aching legs and looked around the dim forest, the quiet settling heavily on her. “Almost there,” she muttered mockingly, shaking her head. “Sure. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
She pulled her knees to her chest, resting her head on them as she tried to catch her breath. For now, at least, she was thankful for the chance to stop.
Naomi’s body betrayed her exhaustion. Despite her frustration and the lingering discomfort of the forest, she dozed off, her head drooping against her knees. The weight of the day pressed down on her, pulling her into an uneasy, restless sleep.
A faint rustling sound jerked her awake. Her eyes snapped open, her heart pounding as she looked around. The forest was darker now, the shadows deeper and more oppressive. Every faint noise seemed louder in the stillness.
“Shmee?” she called out softly, her voice hoarse.
There was no answer. She frowned, pushing herself to her feet with a groan. The pack lay beside her, its weight now a reluctant comfort. She swung it back onto her shoulders, gritting her teeth at the strain, and glanced around again.
“Shmee?” she called a little louder, her voice echoing faintly in the quiet. The forest gave no reply, only the sound of leaves shifting in the breeze and the occasional chirp of some unseen creature.
A nervous knot twisted in her stomach. Her mind raced with possibilities—had something happened to him? Was he okay? Or had he just decided to leave her behind?
Naomi took a few hesitant steps forward, peering into the shadows in the direction he had gone. But there was no sign of him, not even the glimmer of his golden eyes. She sighed, her nerves fraying as she realized how alone she felt without his strange, chattering presence.
Her legs ached too much to wander far, and the oppressive darkness of the forest only added to her hesitation. With a frustrated huff, she sank back down onto the ground, this time leaning against the oversized pack. It wasn’t comfortable, but it felt better than nothing.
“Fine,” she muttered under her breath, folding her arms tightly across her chest.
Naomi was leaning against the pack, her head resting back and eyes half-closed when she heard it—a crashing through the brush, frantic and wild. She jolted upright, her heart already racing, as a shrill, high-pitched scream cut through the forest.
“RUNS! YIP! RUNS!”
Shmee burst out of the undergrowth, his arms flailing wildly above his head, his claws clutching fistfuls of mushrooms that bounced and jostled as he ran. His golden eyes were wide with panic, and his tail lashed behind him like a whip.
Naomi barely had time to react before Shmee zipped past her, the blur of his small form accompanied by another piercing scream.
“WHAT?!” Naomi shouted, scrambling to her feet. She spun around, her pulse pounding as she grabbed the pack. “Shmee, what’s going on?! What’s happening?”
“RUNS!” Shmee screamed again, not even glancing back as he disappeared into the shadows ahead.
Her panic kicked into overdrive. Adrenaline surging, Naomi hoisted the pack onto her back and bolted after him. The forest blurred around her as she raced to catch up, her breath coming in gasps.
“Shmee!” she yelled, dodging low-hanging branches and stumbling over roots. “What are we running from?!”
No answer came, just more frantic cries of “YIP! RUNS!” echoing through the trees. Naomi’s mind raced with terrifying possibilities, but she didn’t dare stop to find out what might be behind her.
“Shmee! What is going on?!” Naomi yelled, her voice breaking as she ran.
Ahead of her, Shmee’s frantic dash came to an abrupt and chaotic end as his foot caught on a root. He pitched forward with a startled yelp, landing snout-first in the dirt. Mushrooms flew from his claws, scattering across the forest floor.
“Shmee!” Naomi was on him in moments, sliding to a stop and grabbing him by the shoulders to pull him upright. “What are we running from?” she asked, her voice trembling, her breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps.
Shmee wiggled free, his golden eyes darting wildly around. “Shmee’s mushrooms!” he cried, dropping to all fours and scrambling to collect the scattered fungi.
“Shmee, are you kidding me right now?!” Naomi’s panic threatened to overwhelm her as she glanced around, her body trembling. “What are we running from?!”
Shmee didn’t answer, too focused on scooping up his precious mushrooms.
Then, from behind them, a sudden rustling broke through the tense silence. Naomi’s heart leapt into her throat. She stumbled back, her legs nearly giving out as fear took hold.
“No, no, no,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes as she stared at the dark brush. Her mind raced with images of what could be coming for them—a monster, a predator, something worse.
“Shmee…” she whimpered, her voice barely audible.
Shmee froze for a moment, his claws clutching the last of his mushrooms. Then, with a shrill scream, he bolted upright, his tail lashing behind him. “RUNS! RUNS AGAIN!”
Just as Shmee vanished from sight, disappearing into the shadows of the forest, Naomi stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat. Her wide eyes were fixed on the rustling brush behind her. The tension was suffocating, the sound growing louder and closer.
And then… a raccoon waddled into the small clearing.
It stopped, its nose twitching as it sniffed the air. With a lazy determination, it followed the scent trail to one of the fallen mushrooms, sniffing it with curiosity. Its tiny paws reached out, delicately turning the mushroom over before it began nibbling on the edge.
Naomi blinked, her chest heaving as she stared at the creature in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, her voice cracking.
She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, a sharp laugh bubbling out of her—half from relief, half from frustration. She looked at the mushrooms scattered on the ground and then in the direction Shmee had vanished.
“Shmee!” she yelled into the forest. “It’s a raccoon! A RACCOON!”
There was no response, just the sound of the raccoon happily munching on its stolen prize, oblivious to the chaos it had caused. Naomi let out a shaky breath, sitting heavily on the ground.
“Well, at least one of us is getting dinner,” she muttered, glaring at the raccoon as it continued its feast.
Naomi sat on the ground, tears spilling down her cheeks as she buried her face in her hands. The fear, exhaustion, and sheer absurdity of the day finally broke through her defenses. She sniffled, wiping at her eyes, but the tears kept coming.
“Why is this happening?” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling.
Suddenly, a loud crashing sound came from the brush behind her, snapping her out of her spiral. Her head shot up, and her heart immediately started pounding again. The sound was different this time—heavy, deliberate, and too large to be another raccoon.
Before she could even react, something burst into the clearing, and Naomi gasped.
A man—a giant of a man—emerged from the forest, his sheer size making him seem almost unreal. He was towering, easily over six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular frame that looked carved from stone. His hair was wild, and his thick beard framed a face that looked both weathered and intense.
“Come, beast!” he roared, his voice like thunder, as he took a battle stance. His fists clenched tightly, veins bulging along his forearms. His presence filled the clearing, radiating raw power and ferocity.
Naomi froze, her breath caught in her throat, as she watched the man face off against…
The raccoon.
The tiny creature sat completely still, its head tilted curiously as it stared up at the giant man, completely unbothered. Its little paws held the mushroom it had been nibbling on, and it continued taking small, deliberate bites, seemingly unaware of the dramatic entrance.
For a moment, there was only silence, save for the faint rustling of the leaves and the sound of the raccoon chewing.
The man’s breathing slowed, and his broad shoulders relaxed slightly. He turned his head, scanning the clearing as if searching for something. When his gaze fell on Naomi, still sitting on the ground, his arms slowly dropped to his sides.
In a deep, gravelly voice, he muttered softly, “I’m going to kill that kobold…”
Naomi just stared at him, her mouth slightly open, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or run for her life. The raccoon, meanwhile, took another nibble of its mushroom and blinked lazily at the scene, utterly unimpressed.
The mountain of a man turned toward Naomi, his presence as overwhelming as his sheer size. Slowly, he dropped to one knee, the ground beneath him groaning in protest under his weight. Even kneeling, he loomed over her, his shoulders broad enough to block out much of the dim light filtering through the canopy.
He was enormous, just over seven feet tall, with a physique that seemed carved from granite. His arms were thick with muscle, corded veins running across them, and his chest strained against the fabric of a simple linen shirt beneath the apron tied around his waist. The apron was sturdy and stained, clearly well-used, with traces of flour, grease, and other smudges that hinted at his recent culinary endeavors. A dish towel was tucked into one of the apron’s loops, and a large wooden spoon protruded from a pocket, the absurdity of it clashing with his otherwise intimidating presence.
His wild, shoulder-length chestnut hair framed a strong, chiseled face, and his beard, immaculately braided with small decorative beads, spoke of pride and care despite his rugged appearance. Icy blue eyes, sharp and piercing, scanned her with a mix of concern and curiosity, the warmth behind them doing little to soften the intensity of his presence.
Naomi stared, her breath catching in her throat. This wasn’t just a man—he was a living wall of muscle, a Viking from some ancient saga come to life.
He glanced around the clearing, his nose wrinkling slightly as his gaze fell on the raccoon, which was still nibbling contentedly on a mushroom, entirely unfazed by the towering figure. His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he scanned the rest of the area.
“I’m going to kill that kobold…” he muttered, his gravelly voice low but full of annoyance.
Naomi blinked, trying to make sense of his words. “Shmee?” she managed to croak.
The man’s shoulders relaxed slightly as he stood to his full height, and Naomi had to crane her neck just to look up at him. “Little pest came screamin’ into my kitchen about a beast and a little girl,” he rumbled, his large hands resting on his hips. “Nearly scared me half to death. Said you were in trouble.”
Naomi’s mouth opened, then closed again as her brain tried to catch up. “Shmee?” she asked, her voice still shaky.
“Aye,” the man said, glancing down at her. “I thought I’d find you fightin’ a bear or somethin’, not…” His gaze shifted to the raccoon, which paused to stare at him with bright, unbothered eyes. “That.”
Naomi stared at the raccoon, then back at the man, and despite herself, a laugh bubbled up from her chest. It was shaky and tinged with exhaustion, but it broke through the tension. “You thought… a raccoon?” she managed to say between breaths.
The man let out a deep sigh, his hand running over his face. “I didn’t know, did I? Thought the kobold was tellin’ the truth for once.”
Naomi shook her head, still laughing softly. “That kobold has some explaining to do…” she muttered.
The man grunted in agreement, glancing back toward the trees. “I’ll deal with him. But first, you alright, lass?” His voice softened slightly, the concern in his icy blue eyes becoming more apparent.
Naomi nodded, though she felt her legs trembling beneath her. “Yeah. I’m okay… I think.”
“Good,” the man said simply. “Name’s Bjorn, by the way. Let’s get you out of this damn forest.”
Naomi followed the giant of a man, her legs still shaky, barely able to keep up with his long strides. They had barely made it ten feet out of the tree line when she froze, her eyes widening as a large structure came into view.
The inn stood proudly in the clearing, its size and craftsmanship far beyond what Naomi had expected in the middle of a forest. It was a sprawling, two-story building made of dark, polished wood, its roof steeply pitched and shingled with slate. The edges of the building were adorned with subtle carvings—swirling designs and intricate patterns that hinted at an artisan’s touch. Sturdy stone foundations supported the structure, the gray stone glinting faintly in the fading light.
The front of the inn featured a wide porch lined with thick, carved wooden posts. Each post bore more detailed engravings—depictions of mythical beasts, swirling runes, and what looked like shields and weapons, though Naomi couldn’t make out all the details from where she stood. The porch stretched across the entire front of the building, and several rocking chairs sat neatly arranged along its length, inviting travelers to sit and rest.
Large windows with sturdy wooden shutters dotted the building’s façade, some softly glowing with the light of lanterns within. The main door was tall and reinforced with iron bands, its surface stained dark but polished to a gleam. Above it hung a modest wooden sign carved with the inn’s name: The Hearthstone Haven. It swayed gently in the evening breeze, the carved lettering clear and elegant.
While the exterior radiated a rustic charm, there was an underlying sense of luxury and attention to detail. The walls were too clean, the roof too perfectly maintained—this wasn’t a struggling establishment barely scraping by. This was a place where wealth had been invested, but it didn’t flaunt it outright. It was subtle, hidden in the quality of the materials, the precision of the craftsmanship, and the sheer size of the structure.
Naomi’s gaze shifted to the area surrounding the inn. A well-maintained gravel path led up to the building, flanked by small, neatly trimmed hedges. To the left, she could see a stable, its doors slightly ajar, with the faint sounds of horses inside. Beyond that, she noticed a small garden plot, tidy rows of herbs and vegetables neatly organized, with a low fence around it. Everything about the place spoke of care and planning, but also practicality.
Bjorn stopped at the edge of the path and turned to look at her, his massive arms crossing over his broad chest. “Hearthstone Haven,” he said simply, his voice carrying a hint of pride. “Safe here.”
Naomi nodded, still staring at the inn, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “You live here?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Bjorn grunted. “Me and Garrick. Built it ourselves. Took years.” His gaze swept over the building, his expression unreadable. “S’home now.”
Naomi glanced at him, noticing for the first time how his earlier gruffness softened slightly as he looked at the place. The towering man, covered in flour and grease stains, didn’t seem like someone who would have built something so… elegant. But the inn told a different story—a story of wealth, skill, and maybe even a desire to create something lasting.
She swallowed hard, the reality of how far out of her depth she was sinking in. “It’s… beautiful,” she murmured, earning a slight nod from Bjorn before he motioned her forward.
“Inside now,” he said, turning toward the door. “You need food, water. Maybe a bed.”
Naomi followed him, glancing back at the dark woods one last time before stepping onto the porch. She could feel the warmth radiating from the inn even before she crossed the threshold, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a glimmer of hope sparked in her chest.
As Bjorn pushed open the heavy door, Naomi stepped hesitantly inside, her eyes widening as she took in the interior of the inn. If the outside had been impressive, the inside was downright stunning.
The first thing that caught her attention was the long, polished bar that stretched almost the entire length of the back wall. Made from a single slab of dark, richly grained wood, it gleamed in the soft, golden light of the lanterns that hung from wrought-iron fixtures above. The bar’s edges were intricately carved with patterns of vines, runes, and what looked like depictions of fierce battles. Behind the bar, shelves lined with bottles of every shape and size rose up toward the ceiling, their colorful contents sparkling invitingly. A large sturdy door tucked neatly to one side of the bar, marked only by a small, engraved plate reading Staff Only.
The main room was expansive, with high ceilings supported by thick wooden beams that crossed overhead, each one carved with images of mythical creatures and heroic figures. A massive stone hearth dominated the far right wall, a roaring fire casting flickering light and warmth across the space. Above the hearth hung the mounted head of a beast unlike anything Naomi had ever seen. Its reptilian face was twisted into a permanent snarl, and curved horns jutted menacingly from its skull. The scales shimmered faintly, even in death, and Naomi couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of whatever battle had brought it down.
The walls were decorated with similar trophies—a collection of monstrous heads and claws, preserved and displayed with care. Some were small and strange, like a set of insect-like mandibles, while others were massive and imposing, including the skull of a creature that looked like it could have swallowed her whole. Interspersed among the trophies were beautifully framed maps, intricate weapons mounted on plaques, and vibrant tapestries depicting battlefields and distant landscapes.
The tables scattered across the room were sturdy and well-crafted, their surfaces smooth but adorned with subtle carvings similar to the bar’s. Each table was surrounded by chairs that looked far more comfortable than she would have expected—thick cushions in warm, earthy tones of burgundy and gold lined the seats and backs. Some tables even had padded benches instead of chairs, their wooden frames equally detailed with carvings.
The hardwood floors gleamed faintly in the firelight, their polished surface reflecting the care put into maintaining the space despite the foot traffic of countless travelers. The boards were dark and richly grained, tough enough to withstand muddy or dirty boots. The cleanliness of the room stood out; even the floors seemed meticulously maintained despite the lack of rugs or carpets to catch dirt.
Above the tables, wrought-iron chandeliers hung, their candle-like lanterns glowing softly and illuminating the room in a warm, inviting light. A few smaller nooks with plush armchairs and low tables were tucked into corners, perfect for private conversations or quiet relaxation.
The lavish touches didn’t end there. A spiral staircase made of dark iron wound up to the second floor, its railing adorned with delicate filigree patterns. Above it, the ceiling opened into a balcony where more seating could be seen, along with doors that likely led to rooms for guests. The entire space radiated both comfort and wealth, the kind of place that was as much a sanctuary as it was a luxury.
Naomi turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. Every detail spoke of careful planning and immense effort. The inn was far more than just a place for travelers to rest—it was a masterpiece, a labor of love built with care and pride.
Bjorn grunted, breaking her reverie as he walked toward the bar. “Have a seat,” he said over his shoulder. “You’re safe here.”
Naomi hesitated for a moment before dropping shmee’s pack and lowering herself into one of the chairs nearest the hearth. The cushion hugged her like a warm embrace, and for the first time in what felt like days, she felt the tension in her body begin to ease. Before Naomi could fully relax, Shmee came rushing out from a side hallway, his little claws skittering against the polished wood floor as he sprinted toward her. He stopped just short of crashing into her, his tail flicking excitedly as he bounced on the balls of his feet.
“Shmee went for helps! Told you wes were closes!” he said, his high-pitched voice full of pride. “Shmee gets big man to save you! Yous safe now, yip!”
Naomi glared at him, her exhaustion and frustration bubbling over. “Shmee! You idiot! It was a raccoon! You scared the hell out of me!”
Shmee froze, his golden eyes going wide with what could only be described as hurt indignation. “Raccoons big to Shmee!” he squeaked, throwing his arms out for emphasis. “Shmee smalls! Raccoons scares Shmee!”
Naomi’s anger wavered as she stared at him, but she crossed her arms, still exasperated. “Scared? Of a raccoon? Really?”
Shmee nodded vigorously, his tail whipping back and forth. “Raccoons dangerous! They haves smart eyes, sharp teeths, and theys crafty!” He shuddered dramatically, wrapping his arms around himself for added effect. “Raccoons plans things. They waits, they strikes. Shmee no trusts raccoons!”
Naomi blinked at him, momentarily at a loss for words. She opened her mouth to respond, then glanced at Bjorn, who had just emerged from behind the bar and was staring at Shmee with a look of pure disbelief.
Bjorn sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The kobold’s afraid of raccoons,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
Shmee spun to face him, jabbing a clawed finger in the air. “You laughs now, but when raccoons come for yous, Shmee not helps!”
Bjorn raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and looked back at Naomi. “This is what I deal with every day.”
Naomi couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing, the sound light and unexpected in the warm glow of the inn. “I’m starting to believe it,” she said, wiping at her eyes as her laughter subsided.
Shmee, meanwhile, crossed his arms and huffed. “Humans no understands dangers. But Shmee good helper anyway,” he muttered, his ears twitching as he glanced nervously toward the front door, as though expecting the raccoon to return for round two.
Bjorn set a large platter he was carrying in front of her. With a surprising gentleness, he placed a steaming bowl of stew and a glass of some kind of yellow-green juice in front of Naomi. The hearty aroma hit her immediately—rich, savory, and full of spices she couldn’t quite place. Her mouth began to water, and her stomach grumbled loudly, a sharp reminder that she hadn’t eaten all day.
“Here,” Bjorn said simply, nodding toward the food. “You must be hungry.”
Naomi stared at the bowl for a moment, the rising steam carrying hints of tender meat, fresh herbs, and roasted vegetables. The broth was thick and hearty, dotted with chunks of what looked like potatoes and some kind of root vegetable she didn’t recognize. The glass of juice beside it glistened in the warm light, its color almost unnatural but oddly inviting.
Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the spoon. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice soft but genuine.
Bjorn grunted in acknowledgment, crossing his arms as he stood nearby.
The first spoonful of stew was a revelation. The flavors exploded in her mouth, warm and comforting, with just the right balance of salt and spice. She let out an involuntary sigh of relief as the heat of the food spread through her, chasing away the lingering chill from the forest. She didn’t even care what was in it—she’d never tasted anything so good.
She reached for the glass and hesitated for a moment, eyeing the yellow-green liquid. “What is this?” she asked, glancing up at Bjorn.
“Juice,” he said gruffly, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Herbs, fruits. Good for you. Drink.”
Naomi raised an eyebrow but took a cautious sip. The flavor was surprisingly pleasant—tangy and slightly sweet, with a refreshing hint of mint. It was unlike anything she’d ever tasted, but she quickly decided she liked it.
Her stomach, which had been protesting all day, seemed to sigh in contentment as she continued to eat. Each bite of stew seemed to bring her back to life, the exhaustion and fear of the day slowly giving way to a sense of safety she hadn’t felt in hours.
Bjorn watched her for a moment before nodding, satisfied. “Good,” he said, turning his attention to the bar as if the matter was settled.
From the corner of her eye, Naomi noticed Shmee peeking out from behind a chair, his ears twitching as he watched her eat. “Yous like Bjorn’s stew?” he asked eagerly, his tail flicking behind him. “Shmee helps pick mushrooms for it sometimes! Best mushrooms!”
Naomi smiled faintly, swallowing her latest bite. “It’s amazing,” she said, her voice filled with genuine gratitude.
Shmee puffed up with pride, scurrying closer to sit on the floor beside her. “See? Shmee helps! Always helps!”
Bjorn shook his head, muttering under his breath, but Naomi couldn’t help but laugh softly.
Bjorn leaned against the bar, his piercing blue eyes fixed on Naomi as she finished her stew. “What’s a Zalaran child doing this far north alone?” he asked, his deep, gravelly voice laced with curiosity. “How did you get here, child? Hmm…” He tilted his head, studying her with a thoughtful frown. “Odd clothing for a Zalaran… or anyone, for that matter.”
Naomi paused, her spoon halfway to her mouth, and blinked at him. “What’s a Zalaran?” she asked, lowering the spoon.
Bjorn straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. “Zalarans are the people of Zalaran Oasis, a city far south of here. It’s built around the largest oasis in the desert lands. Good people, strong and proud. The city thrives on trade, mostly in spices, silks, and rare goods. A jewel of the south, but not a place you’d expect to see a child from wandering the northern forests.”
Naomi furrowed her brow, shaking her head slowly. “I’ve never even heard of Zalaran Oasis. Why would you think I’m from there?”
Bjorn gave her a long, pointed look, gesturing toward her. “Your skin is black, as is theirs. They’re the only population of people I’m aware of with dark skin in this world.” He raised an eyebrow, his expression unyielding. “So, where are you from then, child?”
Naomi hesitated, her stomach knotting. She put the spoon down and took a deep breath. “I’m… I’m not from here. I’m from a place called Atlanta. It’s a city in a country called the United States. It’s…” She trailed off, suddenly realizing how insane it sounded. “It’s not…of this world.”
Bjorn didn’t react right away, his expression unreadable as he watched her carefully. “Not of this world?” he repeated, his tone calm but skeptical.
Naomi nodded, her voice trembling slightly. “Yeah. I don’t even know how I got here. One second I was in my house, and then… I was here. In the forest.” She bit her lip, glancing down at the empty bowl in front of her. “I don’t know how to get back.”
Bjorn let out a slow breath, his sharp eyes still fixed on Naomi. “That is strange…” he muttered, his tone more contemplative than dismissive.
“I can prove it!” Naomi blurted out, her voice rising slightly with urgency. She leaned forward, digging into her back pocket and pulling out her phone. She placed it on the table in front of her with a sense of triumph, as if it held all the answers.
Bjorn’s piercing blue eyes flicked down to the device, his brow furrowing. “What is that?” he asked, leaning slightly closer but keeping his arms crossed.
“It’s my phone,” Naomi said quickly. “It’s from where I’m from. It’s… like a device that lets you talk to people, or look things up, or even play music.” She hesitated, realizing how absurd it sounded trying to explain something so normal in such an abnormal situation. “Here, I’ll show you.”
She pressed the power button, and the screen lit up. The glow of the phone’s lock screen seemed almost alien in the warm, rustic atmosphere of the inn. Bjorn’s eyes widened slightly as he straightened, clearly intrigued but still cautious.
Naomi swiped the screen, opening her photo gallery and flipping through images of her home, her family, and her life back in Atlanta. She paused on a picture of her and her mom sitting on their front porch, the familiar brick house in the background.
“See?” she said, holding up the phone. “That’s me. That’s my house. That’s where I came from.”
Bjorn leaned in, his massive frame towering over her as he squinted at the screen. He studied the image for a long moment, his face unreadable. “Hmph,” he grunted finally, his voice low and thoughtful. “Strange magic…”
Naomi shook her head. “It’s not magic! It’s… technology. It’s normal where I’m from. Everyone has one of these.” She placed the phone back on the table, suddenly feeling a pang of homesickness as she stared at the photo.
Bjorn was quiet for a moment, his gaze lingering on the phone before he leaned back. “Well,” he said slowly, his tone measured, “if what you say is true, you’re a long way from home, lass. A very long way.”
Naomi nodded, her throat tightening. “I know.”
Bjorn’s eyes softened slightly, and he let out a deep sigh. “You’ll need rest, and you’ll need help. This world’s not kind to those who wander it alone.” He tapped a finger against the table, glancing at her phone one last time. “We’ll talk more in the morning. For now, you’ll stay here. Safe.”
Naomi swallowed hard, nodding again, unsure of what else to say. “I… I only have money from my… world.” Her voice was small, her hands trembling as she dug into her pocket and placed the cash and change onto the bar countertop. A handful of crumpled bills and a few coins clinked faintly against the polished wood.
Bjorn leaned forward, his massive hands resting on the counter as he examined the strange paper and coins. His brow furrowed, and he picked up one of the bills, turning it over slowly, his calloused fingers brushing against the unfamiliar texture.
“Hmph,” he grunted, setting the bill back down. “Doesn’t look like any coin I’ve seen before.”
Naomi’s shoulders slumped, her chest tightening with a mix of embarrassment and worry. “It’s all I have,” she said quietly.
Bjorn straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t worry about it, lass,” he said firmly. “Payment’s not necessary. We’ve plenty of room and plenty of food.”
Naomi blinked, her eyes widening slightly. “Really?”
He nodded, his expression softening just a touch. “Aye. You’ve had a rough go of it, and it’s late. We’ll sort things out in the morning. For now, you need rest.”
Bjorn stepped out from behind the bar, gesturing for her to follow. She grabbed her phone and stuffed it back into her pocket, trailing behind him as he led her up the iron spiral staircase to the second floor. The steps creaked slightly under his weight, and Naomi couldn’t help but marvel again at how enormous he was, especially in such close quarters.
He stopped at a door near the end of the hall, opening it to reveal a surprisingly cozy room. The walls were made of the same polished wood as the rest of the inn, and the room smelled faintly of pine and clean linen. A single bed sat against one wall, its mattress covered with a thick quilt in warm, earthy tones. A small nightstand with a lit lantern rested beside it, and a chair with a soft cushion was tucked neatly in the corner. A simple but sturdy wardrobe stood against the opposite wall, and a rugless, polished floor completed the space.
“It’s nice,” Naomi said softly, her voice full of gratitude.
Bjorn nodded. “It’ll do,” he said, stepping aside to let her in. “Don’t worry about a thing tonight. Get some sleep. We’ll figure something out tomorrow.”
Naomi stepped into the room, setting her pack down near the bed. “Thank you,” she murmured, looking back at him.
Bjorn waved her thanks off with a grunt. “Rest now. It’s late, and I’ve still got dinner prep for tomorrow night to finish.” He turned, his gaze narrowing on Shmee, who had somehow scurried up behind them. “And you,” he said, pointing a massive finger at the kobold, “back downstairs. Stop pestering the lass.”
Shmee’s ears twitched, and he let out a small yip of protest. “Shmee wasn’t pestering!” he squeaked. “Shmee helping!”
“Downstairs,” Bjorn repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Shmee grumbled under his breath but scurried off, his claws clicking on the stairs as he disappeared.
Bjorn looked back at Naomi, his voice softening again. “Get some sleep, lass. You’re safe here.”
With that, he closed the door behind him, leaving Naomi alone in the quiet room. For a long moment, she stood there, staring at the bed, the warmth of the lantern casting soft shadows on the walls. Finally, she sat down, the day’s events catching up to her all at once. For the first time since waking up in this strange world, she felt like she could breathe again.
Naomi walked over to the bed, her legs feeling like lead, and pulled back the soft, lush bedding. The quilt was thick but not heavy, its texture smooth and inviting. She collapsed onto the mattress, letting out a small gasp of relief as it seemed to mold perfectly to her tired body.
It was, without a doubt, the most comfortable bed she had ever laid on in her life. The sheets were cool and crisp against her skin, and the pillow was soft yet supportive, with a faint coolness that soothed her aching head.
She barely had time to pull the quilt over herself before the day’s exhaustion took over. Her eyes fluttered shut, and within moments, she was asleep, her breathing slow and steady as the warmth of the room wrapped around her like a gentle embrace.
For the first time since she had been thrown into this strange world, Naomi felt safe.