The Secret of the Forbidden Forest

“What are you doing here?” Clara frowned, stepping in front of the basket like a shield.

The young man smirked, raising his rifle just a little. “Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing. This is a forbidden area. Didn’t know?”

Clara said nothing, eyes flickering around, looking for a way out.

“Trying to run?” Travis squinted, taking a step forward. The ground cracked under his boot.

Clara took a shaky step back, heart racing.

“What were you gathering?” Travis nodded toward the basket.

“Just some herbs,” Clara’s voice dropped low. “I wanted to make tea… for my parents.” She kept her hands low but didn’t drop the arrow.

“Tea?” Travis frowned, disbelief clear. “You don’t even have the right to see them, let alone send them stuff.”

“I just wanted… something…” Clara’s voice cracked. “If you’re starving them, at least let it be this.”

Travis scowled, irritation creeping in.

“Teaching me how to handle criminals now?” His voice got cold as he stepped closer. “You seriously expect me to believe some story about tea?”

Clara didn’t say a word. Her face was calm, but inside, she was falling apart.

“Maybe I should just search you right here,” he hissed, staring into her eyes – those brown eyes, full of fear but no hint of giving in. “See what you’re really hiding? Or hand you over to the chief and let him deal with it?” Travis reached for her shoulder, but Clara snapped.

“Don’t you dare.”

For a second, he froze, then slowly pulled his hand back.

“Consider yourself lucky today. But if I catch you here again, don’t expect me to be so nice.”

Clara bent down fast, without looking away.

“Go,” Travis barked. “Before I changed my mind.”

Clara’s fists tightened as she grabbed the basket and slipped into the trees’ shadows. Her footsteps faded fast, only the leaves whispering behind her. Travis watched, a quiet smile playing on his lips. Then his eyes landed on the uprooted herbs scattered on the ground.

“Lying ain’t right,” he muttered, a short chuckle breaking free.

***

Clara ran ahead, her fear nearly outpacing her steps. With one hand, she clutched the roots tightly in her basket, worried they’d slip out; with the other, she brushed away branches snagging at her clothes. The night’s encounter with Travis had only made her more anxious.

What the hell’s this idiot doing out here so late? Clara thought irritably, slowing to a steady jog, exhausted by sudden fatigue. Shit… is he following me? God, please no.

She suddenly glanced over her shoulder, but all she saw was pitch-black darkness – empty and terrifying. A shiver ran through her, and she pressed her palm to her chest, trying to steady her pounding heart.

“It’s nothing… really, nothing,” Clara whispered, barely above a breath. “I’ll be home soon. Very soon. And everything’ll be fine. Everything will be fine…” She kept saying it like a mantra, trying to calm the shake in her voice.

She stepped forward carefully, then suddenly her foot snapped a branch – the sharp crack cutting through the stillness. The sound jolted her, and panic rushed in like a flood. Ignoring the ache in her limbs, Clara broke into a run. Her feet barely touched the ground, her senses alive with fear. Before long, she found herself at the door of her house. She yanked the handle – nothing. Her chest tightened until she realized it was locked. Her fingers shook as she dug into her pocket for an old key, turning it over a few times before sliding it into the lock. The door finally creaked open. She slipped inside and closed it quickly behind her. Leaning back against the cool wood, she closed her eyes and let the tension roll off, slowly easing away.

Her heart still fluttered wildly in her chest, and thoughts in her mind jumbled chaotically, making it hard to focus. Covering her face with her hands, Clara took several slow breaths, trying to regain her calm. She was home. Everything was all right.

A minute passed. The trembling faded from her body, the fear softened, and she straightened up, moving into the small room. She set the basket on the wooden table, careful not to spill its contents.

“God, I’m so tired,” Clara mumbled, blinking hard to stay awake. Her eyes felt like lead. With a long sigh, she ran her hand through her hair and made her way to her room. “All right,” she whispered, trying to focus. “I have to make the extract. Gotta save Mom and Dad.”

Reaching for her textbook again, Clara lit a tall candle and set it on the windowsill by the closed window. She sat down at the table, beside the basket of roots, and gently opened the book to the right page, flattening it in front of her.

“All right… let’s do this,” she murmured, tying a thick cloth around her forehead to keep her hair out of the way.

“First you need to dry the valerian roots,” Clara read aloud with a sigh.

She checked the roots she’d gathered and felt the dampness on her hands. Like this, they’d be useless.

“I’ll have to wait…” she muttered.

Sitting at the table, Clara wiped the roots clean and arranged them on three broad boards that stretched across the table’s surface. The edges overlapped a little, but the boards were sturdy enough to hold the roots.

It’s time to rest,” she murmured, pushing herself up and dragging herself to the small bed. She sank into the thin pillows and fell asleep right away, still in her dirty clothes.

CHAPTER 3: RUNAWAY

Sleep refused to let go, leaving Clara torn between two urges: staying nestled in her warm bed or finally answering the steady knocking at the door. With effort, she pushed herself upright and blinked groggily, trying to remember where she was. One eye opened – just enough to spot the wooden table and the boards where neatly arranged roots lay. Another knock sounded, sharper this time, and Clara startled. She sprang from the bed and rushed to the door.

When Clara opened the door, she blinked in surprise at the unexpected guest.

“Grandpa William? What are you doing here this early?”

“Early?” The old man raised an eyebrow and scratched at his thick mustache with a chuckle. “It’s already noon, kiddo. You’ve been holed up here forever… I wanted to see how you’re holding up.”

“Noon?” Clara’s brow furrowed as she glanced at the sunlight streaming in. “Ugh, I’m never gonna finish in time!”

Without bothering to close the door, she rushed to the table to check the roots. They were still damp. A wave of panic rose in her chest as she began pacing, trying to figure out how to make them dry faster.

Meanwhile, William stepped over the threshold, watching her confusion with a concerned gaze.

“Something wrong?” he asked, eyes scanning the valerian roots on the table. His worn finger lightly brushed one of them. “Where’d you find all this, Clara?”

She sighed and dragged an old wooden chair closer to him, the legs scraping across the floor.

“Please, have a seat.”

“Thanks,” the old man said, settling into the chair with a soft groan and rubbing his knee. “Where’d you find this?” the librarian asked, nodding at the roots.

Clara hesitated, skirting around the question. She wasn’t ready to share the truth.

“They were in our storage,” she said quietly.

“They look really fresh. You sure you found them there?”

Clara pressed her lips together and nodded, settling into the nearest chair while deliberately avoiding his eyes.

“I did,” she said softly. “But… It’s too late now. They’re useless.”

The old man studied her closely, gently setting the valerian roots aside.

“Hmm,” he said softly. “You never cared about herbs before. What’s changed?”

Clara forced a small smile. “I figured I’d try making something useful… for winter. Might come in handy.”

“For winter,” William repeated, looking over his glasses. “But today’s a holiday, and it’s only mid-autumn. Aren’t you jumping the gun a little?”

The brunette turned away, suddenly distracted by a chip in the wooden shelf.

“I was thinking… maybe someone might have trouble sleeping,” she muttered. “You know, it’s better to be ready for anything.”

William tilted his head, smiling softly.

“And who exactly were you hoping to help, hmm?”

“Just my parents. They’ve been having trouble… trouble sleeping lately… that’s why,” she said quickly.

The old man grew quiet for a moment. Then, with a heavy sigh, he fixed his gaze on the brunette.

“Clara.. I’ve known you a long time,” he said with a knowing smile, locking eyes with her. “You’re planning to knock everyone out during the celebration so you can slip away, right?”

“Grandpa… how did you —?”

“Clara,” he said gently, slowly getting up from his chair, “I’ve been around you for years. I taught you how to spot the healing plants. And I’m not so old that I can’t see when someone is planning to bolt.”

Clara looked away, shoulders tightening, guilt written all over her.

“But it’s too late now,” Clara sighed. “The celebration’s tonight. I won’t have the extract ready.”

“You don’t have to,” he said calmly, shaking his head when he saw her stress.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve got some extra.”

“Yours?” Clara raised an eyebrow, then smiled faintly. “Grandpa, that’s your medicine. You barely get by without it.”

“One sleepless night won’t kill me,” William said softly. “If it helps your family get away, I’m fine with it.”

“Grandpa…” Her voice shook.

“It’s time to be honest with yourself, Clara,” he said quietly, taking her hand in his rough palms. “This place? It’s not where your future is. You’re stuck here, just like your dad was. Don’t let this chance pass you by.”

“But what about you, Grandpa?” Clara whispered, worry heavy in her voice.

“I’ve lived my life,” he said steady and calm. “You don’t need to worry about me. What matters is you and your family getting out of here.”

“Grandpa…” Her voice broke as she stood and hugged him tightly. He gave her a gentle pat on the back, a warm smile softening his features.

“Come by later. I’ll give you everything I have.”

Clara nodded quietly, hugging the librarian once more before stepping back inside. Outside, the old man paused at the door and looked back at her standing there. His hand trembled slightly as he raised it in a slow farewell wave.

William knew all too well what lay ahead. That night, he skipped his medicine and sat by the window, watching the brunette disappear silently into the forest.

***

“That’s not clean,” Travis scoffed, giving the bucket a kick with his boot.

Dirty water spilled across the newly scrubbed floor, leaving ugly streaks on the pale wood. The woman, still on her knees, watched in silence as the chieftain’s son ruined her work with a single, thoughtless move. Her eyes filled with sadness and disappointment, and her shoulders drooped with quiet resignation.

Travis gave a derisive laugh and stalked off without a backward glance.

“Make sure it’s spotless by tonight,” he called over his shoulder, climbing the stairs.

Evelina exhaled deeply, pushing herself off the floor. She trudged to the supply room, gathering the cleaning tools to start over once more.

She pressed a hand to her back, the ache of her labor settling deep into every bone. Tonight, the entire village would gather at the chief’s house to celebrate his son’s birth. For Evelina and the other servants, it meant a night of constant running, tending to every whim of the guests.

Lost in her chores, she hardly noticed as evening fell and the sounds of the village rose: voices, laughter, and footsteps toward the celebration.

“Auntie, please, sit down and rest,” came a soft yet sure voice.

Evelina turned to see a young woman standing nearby, her face open and kind, eyes alight with both shyness and determination. She was about Clara’s age.

“I’ll handle everything for you,” the girl said gently. “You’ve worked so hard already; you must be tired.”

Evelina sighed, the exhaustion of her work weighing on her shoulders. She managed a small, grateful smile and nodded, sinking onto the low stool the girl had offered. With her eyes closed, she took slow, steady breaths, each exhale reminding her just how worn-out she truly was.

“Would you like some water?” the girl asked softly, her eyes full of care. When Evelina whispered a quiet yes, she swiftly grabbed a clean glass, filled it with water, and handed it over.

“What’s your name?” Evelina asked, taking the glass with a tired smile, her voice soft.

“Emily. I’m Emily,” the young woman said, tilting her head a bit.

“How long have you been here?”

“Just over a month.” Emely’s eyes flicked away for a second. “My older brother… he couldn’t pay off the debt our dad owed to Mr. Travis.”

Evelina sighed softly, tuning in to the noise beyond the wall. Then, with a sharp bang, the door swung wide – the guests had arrived.

“Auntie, do you think your daughter’s coming?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, she’s never been into this stuff.” She shook her head, frowning.

Emily nodded silently, and without another word, they both stood. The slaves drifted to their posts, focused on the tasks ahead, as the long-awaited celebration stirred to life inside the chief’s house.

As evening drew near and the day slowly gave way to night, Clara finally emerged from the small stable where she had spent the entire day – loading the cart and tending to their faithful, aging horse. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden light across the fields. She paused to run her fingers gently through the horse’s thick mane, lingering a moment in silent gratitude. Then, after securing the stable door, Clara turned and made her way down the path toward the chieftain’s house.

Clara hovered near the house, her fingers, sometimes, twisting the hem of her beige dress, sometimes, teeth gnawing at her nails. In her other hand, she clutched a small bottle of potion hidden deep in the folds of her tattered bag.

“What’s on your mind?” a voice suddenly whispered at her ear.

Clara jerked around, her heart pounding. There, leaning against the wall she’d just been hiding behind, was Travis – watching her with that familiar, mocking grin.

“What are you doing?” Clara demanded, hiding both hands behind her back. Her fingers clenched into fists, though she tried to stay calm. “Your celebration’s starting.”

Travis smirked, crossing his arms.

“Speak for yourself. Why aren’t you inside?”

“What?” Clara blinked, taken aback. “Are you… Are you mocking me again?”

He let out a low laugh, stepping closer before pulling back, leaning against the wall.

“Why would I mock you? Just surprised to find you hanging around my house.”

“What do you want?” she asked sharply, and glared wary.

Travis didn’t answer. He stepped closer, invading her space. Clara took a step back, unwilling to let him get any closer.

“Maybe we should go inside together,” he said, voice casual, like they were old friends. “You wouldn’t want to miss the good part.”

“That’s crossing a line,” Clara snapped, moving aside, her shoulders stiff. “Your teasing gone way too far.”

“Clara…” His tone softened. “You’re acting weird. You always have, but what are you really up to?”

A shiver ran down her spine.

“You have no right to ask. Step back.”

“Why are you shaking? Scared?” He cocked his head, smirking.

“No,” she frowned. “I just don’t like being bothered. Just finish your little show and leave.”

Travis didn’t bother listening to her protests. His smug grin stayed in place as he grabbed her forearms firmly, pulling her closer without hesitation.

“I insist,” he said smoothly, his tone playful but sure, stepping forward as if her resistance was meaningless.

“I can walk on my own. Let go!” Clara snapped, trying to wriggle free.

He didn’t reply. Just with that same confident swagger, he walked right into the spacious house.

Clara felt awful. Her heart raced, chest tightening as if the air had thickened around her. She quickly covered her face with her hand, hoping to hide just for a moment, to steady herself. But Travis wasn’t about to give her that break.

“There’s you dear mother,” he said loudly, yanking her hand away. Clara flinched, then froze, locking eyes with her mother’s surprised look.

“Mom… I…” Her voice shook, words faltering like a child caught in trouble.

“Enjoy the party,” Travis said with a grin, turning away, holding the small bottle tightly. Meanwhile, mother and daughter stayed frozen, silently staring at each other.

The woman moved forward quickly, her weathered yet tender hands gripping Clara’s shoulders firmly, pulling her close with the fierce strength only a mother separated for so long could summon.

“My dear…” Evelina whispered, gently brushing Clara’s dark hair. Her voice trembled, filled with endless love.

Tears broke free from brown eyes, blurring her sight. Her throat constricted so sharply breathing became a struggle. She found no words, only the warmth of her mother’s shoulder as she buried her face, seeking comfort in that familiar embrace.

Travis turned and headed for his usual seat, the small bottle of valerian gripped tightly in his large hand. He caught the eye of a maidservant and, with a flick of his wrist, summoned her over. The middle-aged woman bowed respectfully and stepped closer.

_Pour this into the wine and serve it to all the elders and women,” Travis instructed.

She nodded silently, took the beetle and walked off. Travis settled into his chair, surrounded by five young men and his guards.

“Listen up,” he said, calm but commanding. Instantly, the group fell silent, all eyes on him. “No one drinks tonight. Don’t even touch the wine. Make sure the other guards know.”

The men exchanged sighs of frustration, but Travis just leaned back in his chair.

“Sn one more thing,” he added. “When I give the sign, pretend to be asleep.”

***

“Did you see your father?” Evelina asked as they found a quiet corner to talk.

The noise outside made it hard to talk, so she had guided them into the servants’ quarters for privacy.

“Yeah,” Clara nodded with a small smile. “I brought him some apples. They hardly feed him there.”

“And you’re not eating yourself,” her mother chided gently.

“I couldn’t eat a thing,” Clara sighed. “But let’s not talk about that now. I’ve got a plan to get us out.” Clara said, meeting her mother’s gaze with a faint smile.

“What?”

“I brought valerian,” Clara whispered, eyes bright as she reached into her bag. “If I mix it into the wine, everyone will fall asleep for a few hours. Then we can – Wait… Where is it?” She jumped up, eyes darting around the floor, patting her dress pockets.

“Dear, what is it?” Evelina asked, concerned.

“It was right here in my bag,” Clara was nearly in tears, pacing in a frantic search.

Evelina watched her daughter, worry growing with each frantic movement Clara made.

“Clara, breath,” she said softly but firmly, grasping her daughter’s wrist to stop her. “Tell me everything, one step a time.”

“It was with me,” Clara said, her breath ragged. She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to remember where the bottle could have gone. “The valerian tincture. I took it from grandpa, on purpose, so that we – ”

Then it hit here.

Travis.

His smirk. The way he’d grabbed her bag – just before yanking her hand from her face.

“He… took it,” Clara whispered, shock flooding her as a chill ran down her spine.

“Who?” Evelina asked, tension tightening her voice as she studied her daughter’s face.

“Travis…”

A wave of anger and fear coursed through Clara. She flung the door open. The halfway was unsettlingly quiet. Everyone – wherever they were – had fallen asleep: some standing, some sitting, others in the most unlikely positions. At the table’s center, Travis sprawled with his head tilted back, snoring.

“What is this?” Clara muttered, disbelief painting her features as she stepped forward. Her mother lingered in the shadows.

As she moved further, Clara spotted the valerian bottle on the floor – completely empty. She crouched down, picked it up, and glanced around, confusion clouding her mind.

“Did he really pour it into the wine?” she murmured, frowning at the sight of the sleeping Travis.

With her lips pressed tight, Clara surveyed the room again. Everyone was indeed fast asleep. Satisfied, she rushed back to the servants’ quarter, where her mother waited.

“Mom, they’re all asleep,” Clara said urgently, clutching her mother’s wrist. “We have to go now, while we still can.”

“Clara, it’s too dangerous,” Evelina protested, fear freezing her in place.

“Mom, this is our only chance!” Clara pleaded, stepping closer and gripping old hands tightly. “I can’t spend the rest of my life in that old shack while you and dad suffer. Please, just this once… take a risk. I promise you won’t regret it!”

Evelina hesitated, her lips pressed tight with worry, but seeing the fierce determination in her daughter’s eyes, she finally nodded. Clara beamed and squeezed her mother’s hands. Together, they slipped out of the chief’s house.

Gradually, they made their way to the prison building, the cool night air heavy with dampness.

“Clara,” Evelina said, gripping her daughter’s hand even tighter as the brunette confidently reached for the door handle.

“Don’t worry,” Clara whispered, her eyes bright with resolve. “The guard is asleep.”

And sure enough, the guards were fast asleep. Before joining her mother, Clara had visited her father. When the guard stepped outside, leaving them alone, she quietly slipped the valerian tincture into the jug of water. Now, that same guard sat slumped over a small table, head bowed, his steady breathing the only sign of his deep sleep.

“Dad!” Clara cried out.

But then, time seemed to halt. The guard frowned, muttering something in his sleep, and for a tense moment, it felt as if he might wake. Clara’s heart skipped a beat, then the man sighed deeply and slipped back in silence.

All three exhaled together.

“Darling…” Charles whispered, without taking his eyes off his wife, who pressed her trembling hands to her chest.

The lock clicked, and the heavy door swung open.

Charles stepped out, and Evelina immediately rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her fingers gripped his shirt tightly, her breath coming in short, shaky gasps – emotions long held back finally spilling over. Charles pulled her close, resting his face against her hair.

Clara watched them, a soft smile brushing her lips. It had all been worth it. Moments like this – seeing the true joy in those she loved – made every risk worthwhile. Yet beneath that happiness, she longed for a quiet, peaceful place where they could live without fear.

“Let’s leave as soon as we can,” she whispered gently.

Clara stepped closer, her hands lightly resting on her parents’ shoulders, gently tracing comforting circles along their backs.

“You’ll have plenty of time to hold each other soon enough,”

Charles smiled softly, leaning in with eyes full of pride.

“I’m so proud to have you as my daughter,” he murmured, fingers tenderly sweeping a loose strand from her face before weaving through her long hair.

Clara returned the smile, but the tight knot of worry inside her chest didn’t ease. She knew their time was fragile, and every second counted.

CHAPTER 4: SWEET DREAMS

The parents lay nestled among the sacks, their forms barely visible beneath the cloak Clara had draped over them. From afar, they resembled nothing more than a bundle of goods, safely hidden from curious eyes. Yet Evelina’s unease lingered, her anxious gaze locked on her daughter.

“Mom, get into the cart and cover yourselves with Dad,” Clara said quietly, steadying her voice despite the fear she saw in her mother’s eyes. “It’s going to be a long ride, but I’ll let you know when we’re far enough from the village.”

Her parents nodded silently and, careful to keep quiet, wrapped themselves in the cloak inside the wagon. Clara’s fingers brushed softly through the horse’s coarse mane, calming the animal – and herself. Her eyes stayed on the fading shapes of the village, the weight of leaving the only place she’d ever known pressing down on her. It had been her home, yet she’d always felt like an outsider, never truly part of this world.