They didn't sleep much that night.
After the attack, Elowen insisted on moving deeper into the forest, choosing a place where the trees grew thick and old. Their trunks twisted together like they were guarding something sacred. Only when the moon sat high did Elowen finally allow them to stop.
"You were lucky," Elowen said as she set down her pack. "Raw power without control gets people killed."
Anita nodded quickly. "I know. I didn't mean to—things just... happened."
That part wasn't a lie. She hadn't planned it. But she remembered Freya's words. The sword will answer instinct before intention.
Elowen studied her in silence before crouching and drawing a small circle in the dirt with her dagger.
"Sit," she said.
Anita obeyed.
"Close your eyes," Elowen continued. "If you truly have an affinity with nature, forcing it will only make it resist you."
Anita closed her eyes and let her breathing slow.
Immediately, she felt it.
Roots beneath the soil. Sap flowing through bark. Insects burrowed in the ground, birds sleeping in branches above them. It wasn't overwhelming—just... present. Like a thousand quiet voices waiting to be acknowledged.
"Don't command it," Elowen said. "Ask."
Anita frowned slightly. Ask?
She shifted her focus, imagining the ground beneath her palms. Not bending it. Not shaping it. Just... reaching out.
The soil stirred.
A single green shoot pushed up through the dirt, trembling as if unsure whether it was allowed to exist.
Elowen's breath caught.
"That," she whispered, "is control."
Anita opened her eyes, startled. "I did that?"
"Yes," Elowen said slowly. "And you didn't drain the land to do it. That means the magic accepts you."
Anita swallowed. She hadn't realized she'd been holding back—but now she understood something crucial.
If she let go, she could do far more.
So she didn't.
For the next hour, Elowen guided her through small exercises. Calling vines without snapping branches. Hardening bark without killing the tree. Encouraging growth, then releasing it.
Each time, Anita acted hesitant—slow, uncertain.
Each time, Elowen grew quieter.
Finally, Elowen broke the silence. "You adapt too fast for someone who 'doesn't remember anything.'"
Anita's heart skipped.
"I guess... survival instinct?" she offered.
Elowen didn't respond right away. She stood and brushed dirt from her knees.
"Perhaps," she said. "Or perhaps you are choosing how much of yourself to show."
Anita met her gaze, careful and unreadable.
Elowen exhaled. "I won't press you. Everyone carries secrets. Just know this—if you're hiding strength, hide it well. The wrong eyes will see it as a threat."
They reached the river at dawn.
It was wide and fast-moving, the water dark with melted snow from the mountains. The bridge Elowen had expected to find was gone—nothing remained but splintered posts jutting from the banks like broken ribs.
Elowen cursed under her breath. "The crossing collapsed. We'll have to ford it upstream."
Anita studied the water. It moved too fast. One misstep would mean being dragged under, crushed against rocks.
"We can make it," Elowen said, though her tone lacked confidence.
They stepped into the river.
The cold hit like knives.
Halfway across, the ground beneath Anita's foot gave way.
She slipped.
The current seized her instantly, yanking her legs out from under her and dragging her downstream. Water filled her mouth, her ears, her lungs. She tried to fight it—but the river was stronger.
No.
Panic flared, sharp and consuming.
Elowen shouted her name, reaching—but she was already too far.
Something snapped inside Anita.
Not like a bone.
Like a lock.
The world slowed.
The roar of the river dulled to a distant echo as heat surged through her chest. She felt a presence—not the land this time, not roots or leaves—but movement, momentum, bond.
A scream tore from her throat—not of fear, but command.
The water exploded upward as something massive surged beneath the surface.
A horse—no, a mare—burst from the river in a cascade of silver spray. Her coat shimmered like moonlight on steel, mane flowing as if woven from mist. Eyes sharp, intelligent, aware.
The mare caught Anita mid-fall, solid and unyielding beneath her.
The river parted around them.
Elowen stood frozen on the bank, mouth open.
The mare snorted, stamping once as if offended by the river's audacity.
Anita clung to her neck, shaking. "I—I didn't mean to—"
You called, a presence seemed to say—not in words, but certainty.
The mare turned and stepped through the river as though it were shallow puddle, carrying Anita safely to shore. Only once they reached solid ground did Anita slide off, her legs giving out.
The mare stayed.
Didn't wander. Didn't bolt.
She lowered her head to Anita's level, warm breath fogging the air.
Elowen recovered first. "A mare of loyalty..." she whispered. "They don't answer summons. They choose."
Anita stared at the creature. "I didn't summon her."
Elowen narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "creatures such as this just doesn't appear out of nowhere."
Far above, unseen and very stressed, Cora had both hands in her hair.
"Oh no. Oh no. That one was supposed to activate during a bonding ritual, not a drowning incident! Freya is going to—"
The mare nudged Anita gently, as if reassuring her.
Anita reached out without thinking and rested her forehead against the mare's.
The bond settled.
Permanent. Unbreakable.
Elowen exhaled slowly. "You're carrying divine gifts you don't understand," she said. "And the world will notice.....who are you?".