I arrive at Heritage Park, my legs burning from the sprint. All my previous visits to the North Woods were chill strolls, but time is a luxury I can't afford now. Luckily, I cross paths with Doctor Hopper, who gladly gives me a ride.

The sky darkens on the way there, ashen clouds obliterating the blue expanse. The distant rumble of thunder intensifies the tension in the pit of my stomach.

Hopper drops me off a short distance from Emma's cruiser, parked in the middle of the street by the woods. I thank him and step out of the vehicle, and after convincing him to leave, I gaze into the looming trees.

I have no weapon, no tracking experience, no useful skills for this type of scenario. But there's a girl in there who's probably lost and scared. Possibly a bear, too, not to mention wolves.

I plunge into the forest, leaves crunching under my boots. Thin branches whip at my face, one of them leaving a stinging cut on my cheek. When I stop to catch my breath, I find myself in an area where the trees are less dense.

"Delilah!" The sudden outburst sends a flock of crows soaring into the sky, their eerie caws resonating in the stormy atmosphere.

Rain falls, cold drops pelting my skin and forcing me to squint. When I open my eyes again, a solitary, precarious raindrop clings to my eyelashes, suspended like a tiny crystal bead. With a blink, I absorb it into my eye, its icy touch shivering through me.

"Delilah!" I use my hands to amplify the sound.

The rain intensifies, the air thick with the scent of wet earth and the electricity of an impending storm. The sticky muck slows my momentum and resists my boots' attempts to gain traction as I run deeper into the woods. My foot slides into the mud, and I grab a tree to stop myself from falling.

"Delilah!" My voice echoes through the woods, and I cry because now I'm lost. I can barely see with the storm clouds obscuring the sun, and I have no idea whether I'll find Delilah alive or make it out of here. "Emma," I mutter, hopeless. "Emma!"

Silence.

I press forward, my steps cautious on the slippery ground, focusing on avoiding tree roots. Soon, a horrible stench fills the cold air. I follow it to a thick-trunked tree and gag when I see the decaying flying monkey on the ground, swarming with flies. I hold my hand over my nose and hobble a few steps back, my stomach churning.

Nearby, the rainwater accumulates in two depressions in the dirt. They're not just holes; they're animal tracks. Large ones. The weather distorted them, but I can still make out the claw marks.

Bear tracks.

I crouch down and place my hand next to one of the imprints. It's bigger than my hand—almost three times the size. Lifting my head, I gaze toward where the tracks lead, then sprint through the trees as the rain drenches my hair and clothes, chilling me to the bone. I try not to think about that. I just keep running.

I come to a small clearing and freeze.

A brown bear stands on its hind legs, its back to me. Delilah's in front of it, her arm outstretched. I inch closer, attempting not to alert the bear. Each step is laden with tension, my breath catching in my throat. Raindrops cling to my lashes, distorting my vision, while the scent of wet earth envelops me.

"Delilah," I whisper, the name carried away by the wind. "Delilah."

She spots me, fear in her eyes. She moves her hand, signaling me to shoo.

A branch snaps under my boot like a gunshot in the tense air. The bear whips its head to me with a grizzly grunt that makes my heart skip a beat.

"Bella, run!" Delilah's urgent shout fills my ears as the bear lunges toward me, its roar vibrating through my bones.

I spin on my heel and bolt back through the trees, the rough bark of branches scraping against my skin as I dart past. Mud and rain splatter beneath my feet, threatening to drag me into their depths. Despite my speed, the bear gains on me, each bounding stride bringing it closer. It navigates over roots and shrubs with unnerving ease.

Panic courses through my veins, my heart hammering in my chest. What are the chances of being in two life-or-death situations? I could either get struck by lightning or mauled by a bear. I'm not sure which one I'd choose. "Neither" in a perfect world.

A dead tree looms ahead, blocking my path. I launch myself over it and hope it will slow the bear down for a second, but the beast jumps over it with effortless grace and continues its relentless chase. It's not long before a rogue root sends me tumbling. I struggle to stand, slopping and flailing in the mud.

Flipping onto my back, the bear hurtles toward me. I scream and flatten myself to the ground, my arms pinned to my sides. The animal hovers over me with a thunderous growl. Saliva glistens in its open jaw, forming a web as it stretches wider, its face descending toward mine. With terror running through me, I close my eyes and turn away from the acrid stench of its breath, waiting for the inevitable.

"Hortense, stop it!" Delilah's voice pierces through the moment, shattering the tension.

The bear's head whips away from me, its attention caught by Delilah's outcry.

"Delilah, run," I say, my voice quaking, my eyes still shut tight.

"Hortense."

I sense the bear move again, a shift in the air.

"No."

I open my eyes, confusion clouding my mind as I steal a glance at the bear. Its gaze is fixed on Delilah, who stands a few feet away.

"Her," she points at me, strangely calm amidst the chaos, "friend. Friend."

It's official. Delilah's lost her mind.

The bear withdraws its paws from either side of my head and walks toward her.

"Delilah—" I shoot upwards, but she signals me to stay put, her expression filled with an odd mix of assurance and urgency.

The bear inches closer to her.

"De—"

Instead of attacking her, the bear hangs its head, and Delilah takes it in her hands as if it were a loyal pet. She moves them back and forth, scratching behind its ears.

"The fuck?" I mouth, feeling like I've stumbled into a surreal dream.

Delilah drops to her knees, continuing to pet the bear, and it sits down. As she cries, the beast emits soft vocalizations, a combination of growls and something like a purr.

"What did I tell you? You can't go off and attack strangers," Delilah tells it, her tone a curious blend of authority and tenderness. "I understand we've been apart for so long, but you need to remember that."

The bear responds with another vocalization.

"I know. I missed you, too." Delilah cries, her arms encircling the bear in an embrace. The bear's head droops over her shoulder, its bulk shrinking in her presence.

I rise from the ground as thunder rumbles in the distance, the sound rolling through the air like a foreboding drumbeat. "Delilah?"

She turns her gaze to me, eyes red and full of water. "It's fine."

"What's going on?"

She rises to her feet and releases herself from the predator. "Some people have exotic pets, like lions and tigers. Mine's a bear."

"Oh, my."

The bear turns around and sits again, its fur darkened to a deep chocolate from the rain.

"I met her in the Enchanted Forest when I was a kid. She's been my best friend ever since. I didn't know she came over with the curse until today."

"Blondilocks," I murmur. She doesn't hear it.

"Come," Delilah says, stretching out a hand.

"No, I—"

"It's okay. She won't hurt you now."

I take a cautious step toward them, allowing Delilah to guide my hand to the bear's snout. It huffs, a warm gust of air brushing against my skin, causing me to pull back.

"It's okay. She's getting used to your scent." Delilah places my hand on the bear's muzzle, then lets go and steps back.

I move my hand to the bear's forehead and spread my fingers. Sopping yet coarse fur sticks up between them. The bear vocalizes, almost like contented sighs, looking at me with her big brown bear eyes.

Delilah crouches beside it and snuggles up close, her proximity defying logic. "Her name is Hortense, after my favorite flower, Hortensia."

If I thought the flying monkeys were the strangest thing I've ever seen, this situation beats it. When Hortense chased me, I've never been more frightened in my life. I still don't know what to make of all this. Delilah's snuggling with a grizzly bear, and it's not mauling her. This cannot be real life. Can it?

Hortense startles me by leaning forward. I step back and watch her settle on the ground, sluggish. Amidst the rain-soaked forest, I watch Delilah and the bear share a connection that transcends understanding. It's sheer absurdity and wonder. This has to be a dream. There's no other explanation.

"Girls, get back!" Emma shouts, emerging from the trees and aiming her gun at Hortense.

"No!" Delilah shoots onto her feet and spreads herself out to create a shield for her furry friend. "She's not hurting us. This is my bear."

Emma appears confused, but who wouldn't after that statement?

"The one I talk about. Remember? From my story. This is Hortense."

Emma lowers her pistol, the raindrops sliding over her red leather jacket. "David's getting blankets from the car. Let's get you girls home."

I give her an exasperated look and shift my weight.

"You know what I mean."

Delilah lowers herself back to the ground and says her farewells to Hortense.

* * *

The three of us make our way back to the car, the gentle rain rinsing my face from the mud. The top of my right cheek stings worse than a paper cut. I don't touch it. I don't care if I'm bleeding. I'm too busy thinking these events over and making sense of them.

At last, the rain stops, leaving droplets falling from branches and leaves. The sky, though still cloaked in clouds, echoes with the cheerful chirping of birds.

David hands each of us a dry blanket when we emerge from the woods. Delilah and I stand beside the cruiser while David and Emma huddle together, engaged in a discussion I can't hear.

"I didn't use you," Delilah says, breaking the awkward silence, her words cutting through the damp air. "I genuinely wanted to hang out with you. I wanted to be your friend. The article and research were never meant to hurt you."

"Then why did you pry into my past? Why did you research me at all? Why dig up where I was found and why I was put in the system? Who cares about that shit? I expected you to write about how I'm Queen Anna and was almost attacked by a flying monkey, not about my personal life."

"I know. I wouldn't have used any of it if you didn't want me to. Please don't think I'm a cold-blooded reporter 'cause I'm not. I would've said anything you wanted me to say, nothing you didn't."

"It doesn't matter now. I saw the article, though it wasn't yours."

Delilah's eyes glisten with regret when she says, "When I told my boss what happened, he thought it was inappropriate to write about you, too. He passed my notes to another writer for the flying monster crisis article. Said I blew it to treat a witness like that and didn't deserve to write it myself."

"You still could've written about me as a witness," I point out, my voice softer.

"It didn't feel right. I didn't want you to think I used you 'cause, again, I didn't." She put me ahead of her career? She went on and on about how much she wanted that job, and she tossed it away for me? She didn't have to tell her boss. She didn't have to tell anyone, but she did.

I'm having a hard time wrapping my brain around why anyone would put me first. I'm not worth that. I'm not worth losing a job over. "You sacrificed a job opportunity? For me?"

"It's just a job." She lowers her voice and head, saying this more for her than for me, "There'll be other opportunities." I can't believe she would...We haven't been friends for long. Yet she still went to such lengths to protect my feelings? What have I found here? What did I fucking find in this town?

My world's unsteady, as if reality's shifting beneath my feet. My chest tightens with a strange warmth, a sense of gratitude I don't quite know how to process. Delilah's presence beside me becomes a beacon of understanding, a fragile connection forged amid chaos.

"No one's ever done something like that for me before." My voice cracks as I say it.

"I'm glad I could. But I don't know why Henry would say those things about me. He's been acting different lately, and a lot of people have noticed. We think it's because of what happened in Neverland."

"What did happen in Neverland?"

Delilah hesitates and further wraps her blanket around herself. "It's a treacherous place. It's an island filled with all kinds of danger, from Lost Boys, shadows, and venoms. David almost died from a poison called Dreamshade, but Hook saved him. It's nothing like Disney. Nothing at all." If it was real and possible, I'd like to go to a fantasy land, too, no matter how dangerous. It can't be worse than real life, so off to the Wizarding World for me. I imagine, if it was real, it'd be wondrous and better than its movie depiction. Unlike Neverland.

"What happened in there? The forest, I mean," I finally summon the courage to ask.

"Hortense is my friend," she says with a smile. "She's my animal sidekick." Pet bear. Golden, curly hair...

"You said you were Blondilocks?"

She nods. "Hortense is part of my story."

This is all getting too real. What if there's truth to Henry's theories? If Hortense could act like that, something supernatural has to be involved. The same goes for my visions. If Hortense is part of Delilah's story, are the pirate outfit and magenta cloak part of mine? Goodness, why am I considering such things?

"I thought she was going to eat me," I say, staring at my muddy boots.

"She lost her way. She was never like that."

It's strange how this situation brought us together, forcing us to interact and bond. Delilah sacrificed a job for me out of friendship, and now we're standing in the street, talking about pet bears. A warmth spreads inside me, grateful for her kindness and companionship. Maybe what happened in the woods wasn't so bad after all.

"Why'd you come to save me?" Ah, the question I've been dreading. It's difficult for me to tell people I care about them. There aren't many whom I care for, and I've never told those who've earned it. They'll probably never know.

"I thought you were in trouble, but you had it under control."

"But why did you come?" she asks, her face pleading with me to confess, and for a moment, my defenses falter. She earned my respect today. I still can't believe she told her boss what happened. All so I wouldn't think she used me—to protect our friendship. The least I can do is tell her how I feel.

"I guess...maybe...I consider you a friend."

"You do?" she says, surprised.

"Please don't make me say it again," I say, kicking at pebbles. "It was hard enough the first time."

Delilah smiles, and she takes a napkin out of her pocket, offering it to me. "Your," she gestures at my face, unsure if she should mention it, "cheek's bleeding."

I take the napkin and dab it at my cut, wincing. Bright red splotches stain the paper. As I clean my scratch, I say, "I sacrificed something, too. I was about to meet my mother."

"You gave up meeting her to save me?" Delilah says in disbelief.

"I didn't give it up. I...put it off."

"Thank you. That's so sweet." A lot of firsts are happening today.

"No one's called me that before," I confess.

She tilts her head, studying me for a moment. "Well, you are. You're a sweet person, Bella Palmer."

"So are you, Delilah..."

"Locke," she says with a small smile. "You have to admit, Regina was clever when choosing our cursed names." A thought strikes me, an eerie connection. Blondilocks—Delilah Locke. Jiminy Cricket—Doctor Hopper. Rumplestiltskin—Mr. Gold. Little Red—Ruby. How do all their names coincide with the character personas Henry gave them? Unless Henry didn't. Unless they are those characters.

It doesn't make sense. It's not possible. Those names could be coincidences. Those happen. Though, bears don't cuddle with humans, and monkeys don't have wings. Purple puffs of smoke don't appear out of the blue and clean shoes. Forces of energy don't shoot from books and knock people off their seats. These things don't happen. These are not coincidences. Something's happening in Storybrooke, and it's happening to me.

"Didn't you get a DNA test?" Delilah asks.

"Small-town gossip?"

"Yeah," she says, ashamed. "Why make those lost item posters if you're going to find out who your parents are, anyway?" She takes out another napkin and dries her face.

"Because I can't sit around and wait for the results. I had to...do something."

Delilah dabs the wet wad around her eyes, careful not to worsen the mascara smudges. "When are you getting the results?"

"Tomorrow or Thursday. Maybe Friday."

"Nervous?"

"And scared. What if they're not at all how I imagined them?"

"That's good, then. Because they'll be even better."

"What if they're worse?"

"What are the chances of that?"

"Fifty-fifty."

"Are they, though?" She gives a knowing smirk and then gets in the cruiser, but I insist to Emma I'll be fine walking back to the loft.

The road stretches before me, and as my feet move, my mind processes the tangled web of today's events. The flying monkey last week was easier to brush off. A science experiment gone wrong. The bear is different. Bears are real creatures. Bears don't act the way Hortense did. I expected her instincts to charge me and almost bite my face off, but I didn't expect her to calm down so easily from Delilah's voice and touch. As far as I know, she's not a bear trainer or Doctor Dolittle. I'm not mad at her anymore, but I don't trust her. If she can calm a wild animal, what else can she do that I don't know about? How do I know she won't send Hortense on a rampage to attack the last person who wronged her? I don't know that, but I don't know that she wouldn't, either.

A chime from my phone draws my attention. Part of me doesn't want to look, expecting it to be Agatha again, but curiosity gets the better of me, as it always fucking does.

You can't hide.

Defiance and determination well within me. We'll see about that.

The next thing on my list is meeting my mother. She's waiting for me at Granny's if she hasn't gotten fed up and left already. I bet she's still there with Ruby stalling her for me. I bet she has auburn hair like my natural color and blue eyes like mine. I bet she's petite but strong. Maybe she's tall, too. The thoughts fill me with longing as I approach the diner, anticipation and apprehension settling in my stomach.

I dab my stinging cheek one last time, then stuff the napkin in my pocket.

The bell chimes over my head when I walk in.