It took Mira an entire day to prepare for our departure, which was both surprising and unsurprising.

In the grand scheme of things, it made sense. She hadn’t prepared anything ahead of time—she never expected we’d leave in the first place. That meant she had to figure out what to pack and what to leave behind, which was a lot to consider.

Unsurprisingly surprisingly, when I woke up today and saw there were only two changes of clothes packed for each of us, the question wasn’t how did she manage to finish so quickly, but instead, why were we packing so little?

Twenty-seven days, and just three sets of clothes? I wasn’t sure about our money situation, not that I knew how it worked in the first place, but there had never ever been a need for it (for obvious reasons), but I was certain we weren’t poor. Mira had plenty tunics and dresses, so many in fact, I couldn’t even count them, and most of my own clothes came from them, so, really what was going on?

Even stranger were the clothes she chose for me to wear.

Usually, she didn’t care much about what I wore, unless something was torn during my adventures with Horny. But today, like those first few days we spent together, she had set out a clean set of clothes for me. Alongside them was a large gray cloak, with a note asking me to wear it.

The tunic she picked was red—blood red. It was soft and thin, like a fragile veil, yet it was somehow warmer than a blanket. The fabric was so beautiful it practically glowed when the sunlight hit it, casting a red hue around the room.

But I didn’t get to admire it for long. I had to wear the cloak.

Unlike the tunic, the cloak was plain, ragged even. It was something I’d only wear if I had no other choice. The only reason it wasn’t in worse condition was because, somehow, it had stayed intact all these years. It even had a hood.

As soon as I put it on, the shimmer of the tunic disappeared, swallowed by the cloak’s dull gray. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and the cloak. Paired with my pale skin and gray hair I looked like a ghost.

I moved like one too.

Once I was outside, moving through the forest, the rustle of leaves and cheerful bird songs mingled with the occasional growl or howl of hidden beasts. When the forest was so loud, how could my own steps be heard?

For a moment, it truly felt like I was a ghost, but… why did it feel like that was a bad thing? Ghosts where scary and cool!

I paused and turned to the pesky bird sitting over the branch of a nearby tree, and frowned.

“Are you thinking bad of me?” I asked, as if it could answer.

It spread its wings and chirped in response, as if I could understand it.

And I did.

It said something like “Me? I would never,” with an irritating smile at that the ugly thing!

At least that’s what I believed it said, and that’s all that mattered.

Currently, I was heading to the Heart Lake, but I wasn’t in a hurry.

Mira told me to say goodbye to Horny, and by the time I returned, we’d be ready to leave.

The forest was as it always had been, but knowing I was leaving it, even for a short while, made me take in every detail. Each tree, each leaf—everything felt more significant.

So much had happened in these woods, they were like a second home. I had to show my thanks to it.

Along the way, I passed the flowers Mira once pointed out to me, back when I still didn’t trust her. Three months had passed since she became my mum, but it felt like she’d been with me my entire life. Everything before meeting her felt like a long lost dream, and currently, I was reliving its last remnants as I was about to step into a new one.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

After a good amount of walking, the trees thinned and the Heart Lake came into view. Through everything that had changed, the lake remained the same. Guarded by the three intertwined trees, its waters remained warm, and in response, the waters fed and nurtured them, keeping their leaves vibrant all year round.

I knelt by the water’s edge and scooped up a handful, the coolness slipping between my fingers.

As the ripples calmed, my reflection slowly cleared. My left eye... it seemed to merge with the lake’s surface. Or maybe it was the lake reflecting within my eye, holding its depths instead of the other way around. The right eye, though, stood in stark contrast. Its red color had deepened with the blue, mix into something more... crimson.

But it didn’t scare me. No flames. No haunting figures screaming from within. Just a deep, clear red, reflected in the water like everything else around me.

I glanced up. The small bird perched on a branch above, its reflection opposite mine, watching me.

A low growl rumbled behind me, and I turned to see Horny stepping out from behind the Heart Tree.

“Hey, Horny,” I said, my usual excitement missing from my voice.

Horny snorted, his massive form moving toward me in a lumbering rush. Almost toppling me over, he pressed close, and the small phoenix chirped at him, its tiny, defiant voice trying to shoo Horny away as if such a fragile sound could scare off such a big and ferocious beast.

To my surprise, however, it did.

Horny’s eyes widened, and he instinctively took a step back, startled by the chick.

The phoenix flapped around Horny in three small circles before settling atop the tallest point of his horns.

Horny froze, unsure of how to react.

I walked closer, rubbing his horns and running my hand through his fur to calm him down.

“Don’t worry, buddy. It’s not going to hurt you. Actually, I’m pretty sure it can’t,” I said with a grin.

I shot the phoenix an annoyed glance, and with a final chirp, it fluttered back to its branch, giving Horny room to relax.

Once he recovered, Horny began circling me, sniffing the air like he was trying to solve a mystery. He paused every few steps, eyes wide, then would lean in close, his nose practically in my hair. It was like he wasn’t sure if it was really me standing there. Once or twice, he even jumped back, startled, as if he’d suddenly realized something strange.

After a few more glances between me and the bird, he finally seemed to decide that yes, I was in fact me.

With a happy grunt, Horny pressed his head against me, carefully avoiding his horns, nudging me toward our usual training spot.

But I didn’t move.

Surprised, he stepped back, confusion in his eyes.

I sighed softly, a weight settling in my tummy. “Sorry, buddy, we can’t play today. I... I’ll be leaving for a while, so...”

The words caught in my throat. It shouldn’t have been that hard to say it. It wasn’t like I’d be gone forever. So why was it so difficult?

Taking a deep breath, I forced the words out. “Goodbye, Horny. I’ll miss you.”

Horny stared at me, his expression unchanged, but something about him felt... smaller. Sadder. The phoenix settled on my shoulder, but neither of us paid it any mind.

I turned and took a few steps, each one heavier than the last.

It was only after the fifth step that I heard it—the loud exhale of Horny’s nostrils behind me. He was still standing there, but his tail had stopped wagging. He was the same, but something in his posture felt wrong, like he didn’t understand why I was leaving.

“Don’t... don’t look at me like that,” I said, my voice cracking. “I’m not leaving forever! It’s only for a little while. I’ll see you again, I promise!”

But the words felt hollow, and as I walked away, it felt like I was betraying my best friend.

I was already late. Wasting so much time wandering in the forest, Mira was waiting for me. Yet, I couldn’t find the courage to take another step. My feet felt glued to the ground, weighed down by the ache in my chest.

It was the small phoenix’s emotions that shined in the storm of my own emotions that allowed me to think straight.

I took a deep breath, glancing back at Horny, his big eyes still watching me, tail frozen mid-wag.

“Do... do you want to come back home with me, at least?” I asked, sheepishly.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, as if my words unlocked something, his tail wiggled again, slow at first, but then faster.

We retraced my steps back through the forest, following the same path I’d taken earlier. Horny trotted beside me, his mood lighter, and the small phoenix flitted around, chasing stray leaves. I pointed out the flowers along the way—the same ones Mira had once taught me of.

Talking about them, showing them to Horny, made the heaviness in my tummy ease just a little. Each step felt less like goodbye and more like... sometrhing. I didn’t know what that exactly was, but it was there, I was sure of it.

By the time we arrived, Mira was waiting just outside the door.

I stopped a few feet from her, nerves tightening my tummy. But Horny didn’t move. He stood there, watching us with those big eyes, his tail wiggling happily. He didn’t seem sad anymore, and that made it a little easier to breathe.

Mira’s eyes softened as she extended her hand toward me. “Are you ready?” she asked with a gentle voice.

I paused, looking between her and Horny one last time. This was it—the moment I had been dreading. But something shifted inside me. Maybe it was the way Horny seemed at peace, or the warmth in Mira’s eyes. Maybe it was that something, I was feeling in my way back, or something else entirely.

I didn’t know what, but well, did it really matter?

I took her hand, squeezing it tight, and looked up at her.

“Yes, Mum. I’m ready.”

As we began, I glanced over my shoulder one last time. Horny stayed where he was, his tail still wiggling, and for a second, it almost felt like he was smiling.

I smiled back.

“Goodbye, Horny. I’ll miss you.”