Song of the Forest

Once upon a time, a girl peered into a forest.And something looked back.

1. Chapter 1

Weeding the garden at midday was back-breaking work, and Rey only had herself to blame for the thankless task. Perhaps it was the _ other _ scullery maid’s fault that breakfast had to be entirely redone after clumsily dropping the tray right at the lord-of-the-manor’s feet, but it was Rey’s impatience and foul temper that Cook couldn’t abide in the kitchen.

With a ferocious pull on a particularly deep-rooted specimen, Rey channeled the irritation at her exile into a fierce tug-of-war in the carrot patch. Her life wasn’t fair, but this topped it all. She worked hard, performed as was expected of her, and _ this _ was her reward: the hot sun beating down through her thin muslin dress, hands raw and dirty, and probably by now missing luncheon.

She planted her feet wide and adjusted her grasp on the grainy weed, giving one last hearty pull. The roots gave way, sending Rey flying back to hit her rump hard on the ground. With a strangled cry of frustration, she flung the weed in her hands to the dirt and picked herself up, dusting what she could from her long skirts.

The wide-brimmed straw hat on her head did nothing to cool her. She ripped apart the ribbon tying it underneath her chin and almost threw it to the ground as well, but she stayed her hand. Her temper was what got her into this mess in the first place.

Wiping the streaming sweat from her forehead, she took a deep breath, then stilled. The uncanny sensation of being watched sent prickles up her arms. Turning on her heel, she searched the open field behind her.

No one.

Except for the rustle of the leaves from the forest that lined the southern end of the lord’s property, all was quiet. Rey was the only soul outdoors in this heat.

An electric jolt shot through Rey as she considered the forest. The townspeople had always regarded the woods on the edge of the lord’s property with lighthearted superstition, tale-weavers at festivals spinning stories of a dangerous Spirit of the Wood mostly to frighten children seated around the bonfire. Even so, no one entered the forest without a damn good reason.

“Rey!”

Nearly jumping out of her skin, she whirled on Finn, calling to her from the back entrance of the manor.

“You’re going to miss luncheon!” he teased, cupping his hands around his mouth so his voice carried farther.

“I’ll be right there!” Rey called back, stepping over long lines of bright carrot greens.

Just before she entered the cool interior of the stone manor, she paused to glance once more at the trees waving in the distance.

She shook her head at her own foolishness and firmly closed the wooden door behind her. She had more important things to occupy her thoughts, and food currently held the highest priority.

A week passed before she felt the weight of unseen eyes settling on her once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge shoutout to Erulisse17 for Best Beta of the Year Award, for helping to make coherent the nonsense swirling around in my brain and in my rough drafts. Thank you 💕 > > As an aside, I don't like to post unfinished works, but I've written ahead and hope to post a new chapter about once a week. You can stay tuned via my [tumblr](https://shewhospeakswiththunder.tumblr.com) or my [twitter](https://twitter.com/shewhospeaks2).

2. Chapter 2

A long day of scrubbing floors, polishing silverware, and beating the dust out of rugs in the cooler air of evening passed quickly, and when Rey woke up the following day, she had almost entirely forgotten about the incident in the carrot patch.

The morning had gone much to Rey’s liking at first. Whenever the opportunity arose to pick the late summer blackberries from the edge of the manor’s property, Rey always volunteered. The more superstitious staff were hesitant to go, as the bushes grew among the trees that lined the perimeter of the forest, but she never minded. Cook would get as much fruit as she asked for, and whatever was left on the branch was Rey’s to enjoy, a pleasure that far outweighed the risk of a few pricked fingers.

Hoping the get the work done before the already hot sun began to heat the air in earnest, Rey picked diligently, and was just weaving her hand carefully through a dense tangle of thorny branches when the hair on her arms stood on end. A shiver raced up her spine and she jerked back, the thorns slicing long gashes on her arm.

Through the haze of angry stinging, her body still rang with alarm, heart beating wildly. Biting back a cry of pain, she frantically searched the trees, expecting to see some sort of beast stalking her. There was nothing.