Penelope sat outside on the porch, a gentle rain tapping against the earth around her. It was the middle of winter and the wind was ice-cold, causing goosebumps to rise across her exposed skin. She turned her gaze to the sky, searching for stars, but they were all hidden by dark, thick clouds. Not even the moon, full as it was, could pierce through the darkness of that night. A gentle smile came across her lips.

She always did love the rain. To her, it was peaceful and she believed that the rain cleansed the world. Strange as it sounded, it oftentimes gave her hope – a feeling that was quite rare for her these days. Hope for what, she couldn't be sure, but it was a nice feeling regardless.

The wooden door of her cabin creaked as it was pushed open, the smile immediately dropping from her lips as her blue eyes turned to stone. A man slowly stepped out onto the porch, his right thigh tightly bound with cloth. He limped as he walked, still unable to put his full weight on that leg, and he kept one arm held against his torso which was also bandaged beneath the long-sleeved shirt he wore.

The man, Michael, offered her a pained smile to which she did not return and he faltered, unsure of how to proceed. To him, she was a total enigma that he just couldn't figure out. She presented herself as cold and uncaring yet she tended to his wounds when he turned up at her cabin, half-conscious and quite afraid. She had ordered him to leave after patching him up, but she allowed him to wait out the rain when it started.

That was three days ago and the rain had not let up.

In that time, he had attempted to talk to her, to get to know the woman that had helped him, but she ignored every question or answered with the shortest possible responses. More than anything, he wanted to know why she lived alone in a supposedly haunted forest.

He shifted his weight, wincing as he settled down into the wooden rocking chair beside her. Penelope's eyes flickered with concern as she glanced at his wounds but it was gone as quickly as it had come, her eyes returning to the sky, still in search of the stars.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting again. Confusion swirled within his brain, along with a couple of questions. Why hadn't she asked who he is or what he was doing wandering around in Fangern Forest? She hadn't even inquired about how he had come to be injured. In his opinion, she was far too trusting, letting a stranger into her home without the least bit of concern for her own safety.

"Have you lived here long?" he finally questioned with a soft voice.

For a moment, silence settled over them and he was convinced that she wasn't going to answer the question, but she surprised him. "A very long time," she whispered, her voice so soft that it almost got carried away on the wind.

Michael straightened his back, ignoring the burning in his side. "What made you decide to move here?"

Her lips pursed, face turning to stone once more.

He mentally cursed at himself, knowing he had asked the wrong thing, but he was a stubborn man that did not give up easily. "There are rumors that this forest is haunted. Have you ever experienced anything strange living here?"

"Haunted?" she repeated to herself. The mere idea was ludicrous, she thought.

He nodded, leaning forward with a child-like glint in his green eyes. "That's right. The locals in Bastyon claim that wraiths hide amongst the trees, waiting for someone to wander in so they can turn them into one of their own. Those residing on the opposite side of the forest, in Kelvo, claim that it's full of witches that hunt and eat children. There are other variations, of course, but they only get more ridiculous the farther away you travel."

Penelope wanted to snort. Ridiculous, indeed.

He waited a moment, not missing the subtle shift of her expression or the slight twitch of her lips. "Can you tell me the history of this forest?" he questioned softly.

She quirked a brow at him. The question was innocent enough, but she felt as if he knew, even if only partly. "Why do you assume I know such a thing?"

He didn't miss the flash of her icy eyes when she answered, turning her attention toward him. A confirmation in his mind. He smiled at the thought. "Call it... man's intuition."

Penelope laughed so suddenly that it made him jump. A sharp stab of pain overcame him at the sudden movement and he winced, clutching at his torso with both arms. Her laugh was not musical like it is often described in romance books and fairy tales. No, this woman's laugh sent chills down his spine, and, ridiculous as it may seem, he was sure that the temperature of the forest dropped by several degrees.

If she noticed his discomfort, she didn't show it as her sharp eyes turned to him once more, amusement dancing within their depths. "Man's intuition? I've heard of a woman's intuition, but never a man's."

He forced a nervous chuckle, trying to ignore the goosebumps rising on his tanned skin. A wave of anxiety had begun to creep over him, grasping at his body like spindly fingers, but he could not figure out why. Looking at her, he didn't feel any fear or feel as if his life were in danger, but he'd be lying if he said something about her wasn't off. "I'm an equal opportunist."

"Is that so?"

And just like that, she was back to being a slab of cold stone. No expression sat upon her face as her narrowed eyes scanned the tree line surrounding the cabin. To him, it felt as if she were looking for something, something he couldn't see. 

Silence settled over them once again, broken only by the rustling of leaves as they danced upon the wind. The rain had finally slowed to a slight drizzle, the clouds breaking for the full moon in the distance, just barely peeking through the dense foliage.

"I will tell you..." she began with a voice softer than the breeze itself, barely audible to him, but full of an emotion he could not quite name at that moment. "A tale of Fangern Forest, though back then it was called Lettuce Forest. This tale has long since been forgotten by those alive today, save for a handful of people. Whether it holds true or if it is simply fairy dust is for you to decide."

His cracked lips parted, but no sound escaped him. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and he nodded slowly. Despite her not looking in his direction, he knew she had received his silent confirmation.

"This tale begins a very long time ago, in the once-prosperous Tallara Kingdom..."