The river reflected the light from the early morning sun, shimmering on its running surface. The shimmering rays glinted and fluttered towards her eyes.
Her eyes twitched, struggling to open voluntarily.
I opened my eyes to the sound of water nearby.
I looked around, unfamiliar with where I was or how I got here.
I was lying beside a riverbed, against a tree whose branch reached towards the river, which gave me some shade during my rest.
I slowly stood up and looked around.
The sky above was clear, the breeze gentle. The sunrays shimmered across the river's surface and cast a touch of sunlight on my face. I was sun-kissed.
Despite feeling a little bit disoriented, she tried to compose herself and stood up straight.
She noticed a forest of towering, ashy but dark green trees near the riverbank where she woke. They danced along the soft, gentle breeze as if caressing the leaves.
The lone tree where she was just sleeping under was the only tree stretching towards the river, apart from the forest.
She gathered her thoughts.
I didn't know where I was, but I knew one thing:
I'm about to live my third life.
"Third time's the charm," she said quietly to herself, half amused, mostly trying to distract herself from the heavy feeling in her gut of waking up all of a sudden in a place unknown to her.
"I'm alone," she heard herself say aloud.
There was no echo. But her words echoed through her head.
I'm alone.
I'm alone.
I'm alone.
I'm alone.
There were no obvious signs of life around her—only a dense, towering forest ahead, and the quiet rustle of birds and insects that remained unseen.
She looked down at her hands. They looked delicate and youthful.
Graceful and slender, with long, well-shaped fingers, seemingly smooth skin, and an almost porcelain-like complexion. Nails were cleanly trimmed.
She stretched her arms forward. The white sleeves of her blouse covered the rest of her arms up to her wrists.
Hmm. Looks like a plain long-sleeved shirt.
She looked down at her torso and was interrupted by her own chest. Full, and in the way of her sight, as she tried to check the rest below.
Her eyes widened as she blushed, she instinctively covered her lips, and cleared her throat. Her cheeks flushed at the thought.
I'm a woman.
She bent down to check the rest of her torso and limbs. She was right about the plain long-sleeved shirt, but this seemed like a dress that extended down to a long skirt. White, flowing, and soft to touch. Resembling of what she thought could be an old maid's dress.
Probably made of fine cotton, she thought.
It had no patterns, no markings. It looked worn out but clean. The stitching was fine as well. It looked sturdy and exceptional in quality.
My chest is full. And my body… unfamiliar.
She cleared her throat again. And she slowly traced her sides with both hands, and reached to her back, then patted her behind.
My chest is full. And my body… is abundant. It looks like I'm gifted in all the right places.
She ran her hands from the tip of her forehead, following the length of her long hair. She then split it behind her nape and pushed her hair forward so it sat right above her chest.
My hair's so long. And greying pink? Am I an old woman?
With her hair down on her front, it reached all the way down to her waist.
She also checked behind her, continuing to measure the length of her hair, and it was almost the same length, probably a bit longer since it reached just below her buttocks.
She then ran her hands from her hips, slowly tracing down her thighs… Her face flushed yet again, but she continued and allowed her hands to run all the way down her legs.
She wore a pair of dark brown, close-fitting, below-the-knee boots, secured with long shoelaces.
She stood upright and closed her eyes gently. Her fingertips traced her face. She wanted to make sure, or at least feel, what its form was.
My face feels normal. I don't feel any scars on it. That's reassuring.
I don't think I'm an old woman.
This is enough to familiarise me with this body. My body.
She looked around again. Realizing she had no sense of direction, she had no idea where to go, but she started walking towards the towering forest anyway.
The sound of what seemed like crows cawing and echoing filled the air as their wings beat away when she entered the forest.
Here's to hoping.
The forest let out a gusty sigh as she stepped in to explore what lay before her.
She wandered through the forest with no visible path ahead.
Leaves crunched beneath her boots, and the trees towered over her. Only now did she realize just how gigantic they were, being completely surrounded by them.
Nothing felt hostile, but the silence was heavy.
She noticed some familiar-looking shrooms along her path, and maybe a scent of truffle?
Glad to know I have a keen sense of smell.
She stopped in her tracks, feeling a looming presence around her, and scanned her surroundings. Nothing seemed amiss, and yet somehow, everything was.
Some bushes and shrubs look like medicinal herbs, or maybe spices. She wanted to pluck some but realised she was empty-handed.
She brushed the thought aside and trudged on, since the terrain was so dense and her dress made it difficult to move around fluidly. Her strides were also short but full of finesse.
In just a short time, she noticed a small clearing among the dense towering trees.
A naturally formed rock wall, nearly as tall as the towering trees, caught her eye. It was covered in moss and fern, and vines had almost engulfed most of its surface.
Behind a large tree leaning against the rock wall, she spotted something, just out of place, but enough to be noticed.
Something resembling a door.
It looked like it was trying to stay hidden, but not trying very hard. It was secured in place on the rock wall.
There was no handle, but when she pushed slightly, it gave way easily.
To her surprise, it opened into a cabin—larger on the inside than it looked from the outside.
She hesitated but continued to let herself in carefully.
The ambience shifted around her, as if a breath of light had made its way inside the cabin.
The light poured in through high, narrow, architecturally aligned windows and a dusty sunroof, revealing the room inside.
She stepped out again and noticed the vines and moss had covered French-style looking windows.
She tugged and pulled on the vines, expecting to exert effort, but they came off quite easily. She then used her hands to brush off the moss just lightly settled across the rock wall's surface.
Would you look at that?
She was almost stunned at how easily she found this cabin.
She continued back inside to inspect it further. Though covered in a thin layer of dust, the space felt strangely welcoming.
It was quiet, undisturbed, almost as if waiting. The cabin was simple and square. There was enough space for light to travel across the entire cabin.
From the door where she stood, she looked to her right. There was a bed neatly nestled beside one of the French-style windows.
Next to it stood a short wardrobe and a cozy reading nook.
She scanned to her left, the other French-style window overlooked a small but complete kitchen.
A washroom was tucked in the far left corner, with a quaint door for privacy.
At the center of the room, against the far end rock wall, stood a small brick fireplace with a mantel. There was no couch, nor chairs, nor a coffee table.
She scanned the room once more for a mirror but found none. She was a little bit more than curious to see her face, but it would have to wait.
The bed looked dusty, but when she fluffed and brushed it off, she realized the place wasn't as unkempt as she first thought it to be.
It was actually quite pristine.
She walked towards the small reading nook by the right corner of her cabin. Settled in front of a small hanging shelf, there were just a handful of books. She read the titles one by one.
- Roots & Remedies: A Forager's Fieldbook
- Claws, Tracks & Calls: Creatures of the Land
- A volume titled City of Ashriel, The Capital of... — though the rest of the name had faded.
- From Rot to Remedy: A Poison's Almanac
- Thread of the Souls: The Art of Binding Through Craft
- By Hand and Flame: Woodwork for the Quiet Life
- Echoes of Elioudra
- The Velvet Scrolls: Bloodlines of the Six Nations
- Unspoken, Unburied: The Forces Beneath the Skin
- The Cost of Trust: Trade, Truth, and Transaction
Isn't that handy? I can read.
The books on the shelf had a mythical, almost poetic, and fantasy-like feel to them, but she thought they aligned a little too neatly with her needs, almost as if they had been chosen specifically for her.
It felt like someone, or something, wanted her to find this place.
She realised that aside from the books, there were no signs of personal belongings. The wardrobe was empty. No clothes. The wall was bland. No photos hung. There seemed to be nothing sentimental.
I didn't want to impose, but it didn't feel like anyone was coming back here or staying at the moment.
I knew I would need to secure food and water soon, before it gets dark out.
She went over to the small space that seemed like the kitchen. There was a decent wooden countertop, which looked like it's sturdy. Maybe made of Hickory? She guessed.
The cupboard hung parallel to the countertop. She opened it all, and it contained a complete set of cooking utensils: soup pots, frying pan, sauce pot, the works.
She opened the drawer just below the countertop, and to her surprise, it held 2 sets each of plates, teacups, mugs, spoons, forks, and dinner knives.
Another drawer was filled with a pair of scissors, a chopping knife, a cleaver, a filleting knife, and a meat tenderizer.
Hmm, no chopsticks? But this is way better than nothing.
She realised how conveniently close by she is to the river she just woke up from. She also thought about the bushes and shrubs that looked like medicinal herbs and maybe spices.
The smell of the ground within the dense forest was filled with mushrooms and maybe truffles.
Am I on Earth?
She went back towards the reading nook and reached for the book titled Roots & Remedies: A Forager's Fieldbook on the bookshelf.
I was right! This is a guide to local plants.
She decided to read about some of the plant species. She sat down comfortably on the wooden chair below her bookshelf, just in front of a small, structurally placed study table.
Before she realized it, the sun had begun to set.
The cabin grew dim, shadows stretching across the floor. She looked around for a lantern or candle and was surprised to find a candlelit lantern hanging by the wall beside the fireplace. A box of matches sat atop the mantel.
She lit the candle and returned the book she was reading to the shelf.
She resisted the urge to jump straight onto the bed. Instead, she inched forward and gently caressed the mattress.
It's my first time and first day as a woman.
She giggled at the thought. She looked around the cabin one last time before settling onto the bed and lying down.
She whispered, "Pardon the intrusion."
She didn't even feel hungry at all.
Food could wait until tomorrow. For tonight, she was content to have conveniently found a shelter, and with that, she rested.
Eyes—wide, dead, unblinking.
Lurking behind the window pane.
Silent. Still. Waiting.