Wind combs through the trees in long, whispering strokes. Georgina hikes along the narrow trail, Wild Oak breathing around her—wind, pine, soft rustling in the underbrush.
The city had learned how to live without Ronnie. She hadn’t.
She reaches a gated section of forest—rusted metal bars with no sign, no warning, nothing to explain why it’s here. Just a boundary someone didn’t want crossed.
She walks the length of it, looking for a gap. Finds none.
A flicker of purple light dances at the edge of her vision.
She turns toward an old oak. A thin line of light leaks from a crack in the trunk—faint but pulsing, like something breathing behind the bark.
Georgina kneels. Brushes her fingers over the glow.
The bark shifts.
Gravity vanishes.
She falls through the tree and into the light.
The dirt beneath Georgina seems to catch her as she stumbles out of the base of a tree. The light disappears behind the bark. She gathers herself, bracing against the tree. Her camera and tape recorder lie in ruins, smashed into a million pieces. The familiar tools she had relied on are gone—like her connection to the city she left behind.
Lush grass and a stream glimmer in the distance. Georgina leans off the tree and begins walking, alert, her chest tight. Birds squawk, a sound she almost envies for its simplicity.
It’s not long before she finds a dirt road and a sign that reads Madir, an arrow pointing south. Georgina looks the other direction.
She follows the arrow as the sun beams down. The forest grows quiet; even the water seems to have stopped. The stillness presses against her, reminding her how unarmored she is.
A rustle in the bushes. Her eyes dart in that direction. She spots a sharp rock on the ground and grips it, ready to strike.
A low growl echoes. Georgina drops the rock and runs, legs carrying her miles on instinct alone—all that cross-country practice in high school now serving a different purpose: survival.
She reaches a cobblestone bridge, fire-lit torches lining each side. A stream runs underneath. She cups the water in her hands and drinks, cold and shocking. Leaves rustle. Twigs snap. Shadows coil.
A teen black bear, up to her waist, emerges. Georgina freezes. Their eyes lock, and for a moment she feels the same quiet panic she felt when Ronnie…
“I didn’t mean to scare you, but it’s not safe for humans out here at night. The Fae’s army lurks nearby.”
Georgina doesn’t believe her ears. “Did you just speak to me? How…?” Her voice catches. “And if you can speak… can you tell me where the heck I am?”
Paw pads crunch in the dirt as the bear moves closer.
“We have to go now! I have a hideout nearby.” The bear pauses, then turns.
“Why should I trust you?” she asks. “You’re a talking bear!”
The growl raises hairs on the back of her neck. She remembers hiding from everything back home—neighbors, police, shadows of her own fear. This… is different.
“Because what they have planned for you is worse than death,” the bear says.
Other growls echo in the distance. Georgina sprints, the black bear following. They leap over roots and rocks.
A deep snarl booms through the forest.
“Hurry,” says the bear. “This way.”
The bear slows at a tree stump. “You’ll be safe here.”
Georgina eyes the stump. “Ummm… I sit on it?”
“You go underneath.” The bear lifts it with ease, revealing a tunnel. “I’ve been building it for a while. I’ve got tunnels connecting three different hideouts.”
Georgina peers in, heart thundering. She senses a choice: trust, or risk staying above ground. Her hands brush the edges of the hole. Trust has cost her everything before… but running always has too.
“Why did you help me?” she asks.
“Your aura is different than the others,” replies the bear.
“What do you mean, different than the others?”
Snarls echo behind them.
“Please hurry. I’ll answer when I can come back.” Panic laces the bear’s voice.
Georgina climbs into the hole, roots slipping back over the entrance. The black bear rushes off. Full-grown black bears appear from the shadows, sniffing the air, then retreat. She is alone. And for the first time since Ronnie… she feels the weight of her own choices pressing against her.
Georgina scans the underground hideout. Not much—a few piles of berries, scattered fruit. She snatches an apple and bites, the sweetness strange against the taste of dirt on her tongue.
At the mouth of a tunnel, shadows coil like smoke. She swears she saw something move. Her breath catches; she steps back and crashes into a wall of dirt, sliding on her butt. The apple rolls away, forgotten.
She tucks her head to her knees, letting the silence press against her chest. No one back home knows she’s here. No one knows how it feels to be untethered, untouchable, and afraid.
Exhaustion seeps into her limbs. She lets herself drift, sinking flat onto the dirt, letting the darkness carry her somewhere between sleep and awareness.
The ground splits open; sunlight peeks through the trunk’s roots. A paw appears, a snout, a whole head.
“Hey, wake up!” says the bear. “We gotta go.”
Georgina stirs, blinks, and slowly rises to her feet. “You still haven’t told me where I am, who you are, or how I get back to the Westside.”
“I can explain it all on the way,” replies the bear.
Georgina eyes the bear; there’s something he’s not telling her.
She slowly makes her way toward him, eyes never leaving his. “Yesterday—how did you know where I was?”
The bear digs the hole a little wider as Georgina pulls herself out of the ground and to the surface. The crisp morning air sways the trees as the sun beams, the early morning mist still visible.
The bear makes his way toward the tree line.
“Come on, it’s a long way to Madir,” says the bear.
“Where?” asks Georgina.
“The land we are in—it’s Madir. What’s the name of the place you’re trying to get back to?” responds the bear.
“The Westside,” says Georgina as she strides next to him.
They reach the trees; a path appears, and the two continue down the dirt path.
“So you are gonna start answering my questions?”
The bear slows his pace, looks around, then to Georgina.
“When I was younger, Momma Bear used to tell me a story—a story about a witch so powerful that even the Fae doesn’t stand a chance against her.”
Georgina’s eyes scan the land around her: lush trees, a forest fully alive. The birds catch her ear as they speak to each other.
The bear continues on as he tells his story.
“Then apparently the Fae birthed a mortal daughter. But the Queen has a rule in this land about interacting with people from where you are from. I even heard she banished her own daughter.”
“Queen? Am I in some type of fantasy book?” asks Georgina.
“A what?” responds the bear.
“You know—this is some real Wizard of Oz shit,” says Georgina. “Sorry for cursing.”
“What’s it like where you are from?” replies the bear.
Georgina scoffs and rolls her eyes. She exhales, her stomach flattening. Her eyes scan the tree line.
The forest fills the silence.
“Where I’m from…” Georgina trails off. “…You know, I just thought—why would I go back there… back to a city that took everything from me.” Georgina fights back tears.
“Who’s the ruler of your land?” asks the bear.
Georgina laughs and shakes her head. “He’s a man with some serious issues.”
The bear and Georgina continue through the forest. The sun has reached its peak. Beads of sweat begin to form on Georgina’s temples.
“How much longer?” she asks.
“We should reach the city gate before sundown,” responds the bear.
“Okay, I’m gonna need to drink some water,” says Georgina. “Is the river water safe to drink here?”
“Okay, but we have to be quick if we want to make it to the Queen before sundown.”
“Why are we going to the Queen again?” asks Georgina.
The bear steps off the path and into the trees toward the river. Georgina follows.
“She’ll know how to get you back to… where are you from again?” replies the bear.
“The Westside,” says Georgina.
“That’s a long name for a kingdom.”
Georgina chuckles. They continue through the forest, the bear guiding Georgina like they’ve done this before. Bird chirps fill the silence.
“So you still haven’t told me how you found me?” asks Georgina.
The bear sniffs the air, shifts his head to the right, then the left.
“What’s up?” asks Georgina.
A twig snaps from the shadows of the tree line.
“Run,” whispers the bear.
The air closes around Georgina as three adult black bears leap from the shadows. Her feet think for her; she and the cub bear stride side by side back to the path.
The adult black bears’ growls echo through the forest as they pursue Georgina and the bear.
The dirt path to Madir is underneath their feet now. The adult bears emerge from the tree line and sprint in their direction.
A flock of ravens emerges from the trees and attacks the adult bears, ripping at their fur with their talons. The bears’ paws swing in defense, but the ravens hover out of range just in time.
Georgina stops and watches the flock of birds.
“Why are they helping us?” Georgina asks the bear.
The bear slows his pace and turns. “You’ve been chosen,” he mumbles.
“I’ve been what?” asks Georgina.
“Your spirit animal. Every witch gets one.”
“I’m not a witch.”
The adult black bears retreat into the forest, and all but one of the ravens flies away.
The raven lands on a branch in front of Georgina. The two stare at each other.
“Is it about to talk to me too?” asks Georgina.
The raven’s beak parts, and a high-pitched squawk echoes.
“I think she’s been cursed by the Fae,” says the bear.
“Okay, so let me get this straight…” Georgina takes a seat on the ground, using the base of a tree as back support. “This Fae person is a witch too?”
“Yeah,” says the bear as he takes a seat next to the base of the same tree.
“And she’s after me—why?” asks Georgina. She eyes the bear.
The bear avoids eye contact.
“There’s something you haven’t been telling me?” snaps Georgina.
The bear looks up at the raven as she squawks at him. His eyes lock with Georgina. “You’re right—I haven’t been honest with you… My family are the Fae’s spirit animals. And… you remember that story I told you my momma would tell me?”
Georgina nods. The bird pecks at the bark on the branch she rests on.
“Well, she had a mortal daughter who’s also a witch,” says the bear.
The raven’s and the bear’s eyes don’t leave Georgina.
“You think I’m the Fae’s daughter?” asks Georgina.
The raven squawks.
“Yeah!” says the bear.
The raven continues to peck the branch with her beak.
“Quit that!” A deep voice echoes from inside the tree. The roots burst from the soil.
Georgina and the bear crawl away from the tree. She eyes it as the leaves on the branches shake, the branches grind loose, and the roots emerge from the earth, splitting down the middle to form two legs as thick as a wrestler’s arms.
Beady amber-colored eyes emerge and lock on Georgina. A slit appears and parts; sunlight shines through—it’s hollow. But a deep grumble emerges as the Tree Spirit speaks. “Get off!”
The raven takes flight as a branch the size of an elephant’s trunk swings in her direction.
“Whoa…” mutters the bear. “I thought these weren’t real.”
“You know, out of everything I’ve been through, this is the least surprising thing,” replies Georgina.
She and the bear eye the towering Tree Spirit. The raven squawks at it.
“What’s going on?” asks Georgina.
“It’s best we stay out of it,” says the bear.
Clouds form in the distance; the sun rests an hour above the horizon.
“We should get going. It’s not safe out here after dark,” says the bear as he continues down the path. Georgina pauses, hesitates, then trails after him. The raven flies above her. They pace a few steps.
The ground rumbles as the Tree Spirit emerges from the tree line and onto the path. Georgina and the bear stop and turn as the Tree Spirit approaches.
“I guess he’s coming with us?” says Georgina.
“Wow, you’re more powerful than I thought,” says the bear.
“I’m just gonna focus on getting back to the Westside,” says Georgina as she turns and proceeds to catch up with the raven. The bear and Tree Spirit follow.
The four of them make their way to Madir.
Thanks for reading!
Georgina knows life in the Westside is like rolling the dice.
Before the forest, before Madir, there was The Westside.
A protest, a missing person, and the first time Georgina realized the people meant to protect her… wouldn’t.
Go back to the streets that made her—and see why nothing will ever be the same.