Once my thoughts settled, I opened my eyes and saw my uniform still hanging from the tree branch.
Water dripped slowly to the ground, forming a small puddle beneath it.
Still wet. It seemed I had to wait longer. I didn't know how long it had been since I was abandoned in this forest.
Maybe one day. Maybe more. Time in a place like this felt blurry and formless. No rooster crow, no shadow of a clock, only the changing colors of the sky and the slow shift of the fog's direction.
Now, the sun was high. Its light pierced through the gaps in the foliage, forming thin lines on the damp ground.
Amidst all that, there was a strange peace hard to explain, a silence that wasn't threatening, but not entirely soothing either.
I took a deep breath, letting the damp air fill my lungs. The forest air was heavy, but fresh, and every breath felt slightly different than usual.
My body felt lighter, as if all the burdens that once restrained my movements were gone.
No aches, and no dizziness. Only a warm sensation that kept pulsing from within, like a small ember igniting my body from beneath the skin.
I stared at my own hands, pressing them lightly. They were filthy, soil clung to the tips of my fingers, and dried blood still marked the backs of my hands and wrists, brownish-red streaks that reminded me of the fight earlier.
I glanced down. Only my underwear still clung to my body, both smeared with dirt, mud, and flecks of blood. The discomfort crawled over my skin, stronger than the exhaustion.
"Haaah… I have to clean myself again" I muttered, cutting through the silence of the forest.
I headed straight for the pond. Without hesitation, I stepped into the water. The wet,and heavy fabric instantly pressed itself against my skin. I ran the water over my arms, my neck, and every part of my body I could reach. I scrubbed through the thin cloth wrapped around me.
The pond water grew murky around me once more, but the gritty feel of dirt and dried blood slowly faded, rinsed away by the steady water.
At last, all that remained was clean skin and the cool cling of wet cloth against my body.
I stepped out of the pond, and brushed my wet hair back with both hands as drops of water dripped onto my skin. And walked back to the large tree where I had been resting earlier and sat down beneath it, waiting for my body to dry.
The wind blew softly, making dry leaves fall around me. I closed my eyes for a moment, listening to the soft sound of flowing water.
My skin was still damp from the pond, the fresh water leaving a lingering chill beneath the thin fabric clinging to my body. The forest's warm, heavy air wrapped around that coolness, creating a strange balance that grounded me in the moment.
For some reason, in that silence, I felt as if this forest was breathing with me. The air seemed alive, settling over my freshly washed skin and reminding me that, for now, I was alive here.
The sound of water flowing in front of me is still audible, the water is calm and rhythmic, like the heartbeat of the earth.
But the longer I sat still, the greater the urge within me to move.
As if this body refused to stay still for too long, like an animal that just realized its chains were broken.
I opened my eyes and stood up. My bare feet touched the damp ground, and I could feel every fiber of root, and every tiny grain beneath my skin. The sensation was so sharp it felt like the earth itself was speaking to me.
Then I looked at the big tree I had leaned against earlier, its trunk was thick, its bark rough, and its surface covered with dark green moss. I stared at it for a long time. Something urged me to try... something I had never done before.
My hands slowly clenched into fists. I could feel the tendons in my arms tighten, thrumming with a strange sensation that felt like energy coiling beneath my skin, waiting to be unleashed
I lowered my stance slightly, then swung my fist towards the trunk.
The impact was hard.
The sound of skin striking wood echoed briefly, followed by a vibration that traveled through my arm to my shoulder.
I stepped back half a step, looking at the tree trunk in front of me.
There was a mark there. Not too deep, but clearly the shape of my palm. Flakes of bark fell off, slowly dropping to the ground.
I froze.
"Impossible..." I whispered softly.
I touched the mark, warm, rough. A tree this large... shouldn't be scratched by just one punch.
Before, even lifting a full bucket of water made my hands ache. But now, with one punch, I could make a hole the size of my palm in a tree.
I looked at my hands for a long time. The surface was slightly red, but it didn't hurt.
Instead, I felt a strange urge, a kind of satisfaction, as if a part of me that had long been confined could finally breathe.
I stepped back, took a breath, and this time positioned my left leg. If a punch could leave a mark, what about a kick?
I raised my leg, held my breath for a moment, then released it with all my strength. My kick hit the trunk with a heavy sound.
The air around vibrated, leaves above moved from the gust of wind born from the impact's force.
My body was pushed back slightly, but I remained standing steadily.
When I looked at the tree, my breath caught.
There, on the bark, a deep and wide groove was clearly visible, the mark of my kick.
The large tree even trembled slowly for a few seconds, as if it had just received a blow from something much larger than my body.
I looked down, staring at the foot that had just done that. There wasn't a single scratch on my foot from kicking the tree. Only a little warmth... and a strange sensation like small electric currents running beneath the skin.
Then there was one more thing I wanted to try, my eyes immediately focused on my nails. If I could tear a bear apart… what about this tree?
I stepped closer, staring at the tree now covered in marks. With steady breath, I raised my hand, fingers spread, and then thrust these claws forward, with a firm, decisive, and unhesitant movement.
The result was immediate.
A loud cracking sound split the silence of the forest. My nails sank into the wood as if piercing wet clay. But it wasn't without resistance, the wood fought back, hard and rough, but not strong enough. Long grooves formed where my claws moved, pieces of bark falling off in neat fragments.
I paused for a moment, staring at the marks of my attacks on the tree. Unconsciously, my hand reached for its rough surface, tracing every groove of the kicks, the curves of the punches, and the claw scratches I had just left. The bark felt coarse, even sharp in some areas.
In my chest, there was a feeling hard to explain. Between awe, fear, and... happiness.
This strength... wasn't strength that ordinary humans should possess. But I knew, this body was indeed no longer my old one.
I clenched my right hand tightly, looking at it under the light piercing through the foliage.
The veins under the skin looked clearer, as if the energy within them was radiating outward.
I could feel the pulse of that energy, a new rhythm following my breath.
"I've truly changed..." I whispered softly.
Yet behind that awe, I knew there was another side growing along with it. Strength always brings consequences. And although I didn't know what would happen after this, one thing was certain.
I was no longer the same girl who cried in the corner of the horse stable. I looked at my hands again, this time with a calm gaze, not fear.
The purple nails at my fingertips shimmered faintly as sunlight hit them.
That shimmer was like a sign, a sign that I was now on a different path, far from ordinary humans.
The wind blew softly, passing over my face, cooling the skin still moist with sweat. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the forest air fill my lungs, then exhaled slowly.
I am not afraid of my own power. On the contrary, I am eagerly anticipating it. And this is just the beginning... the first step in gaining enough power to return to those who have abandoned me.
I have to become much stronger, until no one dares to mess with me anymore.
Now, the restlessness that had been pushing me to keep moving finally began to ease. Maybe the punches and kicks against the tree have satisfied it. Or maybe it was my own feeling of tiredness and boredom. I don't really know what this feeling truly is.
With the tension having subsided, I sat back down, still in the same place, under that big tree. Its sturdy trunk, now full of marks, kick dents, punch breaks, and scratches from my claws, felt like a marker of mine.
Time passed. The sun began to tilt westward, its golden light piercing through the gaps in the leaves and falling on the damp ground.
The rays reflected on the water's surface, dancing slowly, mirroring the sky's color that was beginning to change, from pale blue to faint orange.
No bells, no clocks, only the slowly shifting shadows of trees as a sign that the day kept moving.
I looked at my uniform hanging on the low branch near the water.
The fabric fibers were now starting to dry, blown by the moist wind softly blowing from the east. The last drops of water fell from the ends of its sleeves, leaving small stains on the ground.
For some reason, I felt calm seeing it sway slowly under the afternoon sun. I had been sitting here for hours, listening to the sounds of the forest.
Occasionally the wind carried the scent of leaves and wet soil, calming my usually restless mind. No human voices, no mockery, no calls with insulting tones.
Just the forest and myself.
And for the first time, the silence didn't feel painful.
I stood up slowly, approaching the uniform. The fabric looked shabby. Tears were still visible in several parts, on the sleeves, on the lower side, on the right shoulder that was once clawed by the wolf.
The mud stains had faded, but faint marks still clung, refusing to disappear even after I washed it repeatedly.
I stared at it for a long time.
This uniform... used to be a symbol of everything I knew. The result of Mother's hard work, who willingly saved for months just to buy me these clothes.
Behind its fabric also lay every drop of her sweat and hopes, but also all the humiliation and despair I had to swallow silently before.
I lifted the uniform slowly. It still felt cold at the edges, but no longer wet.
The fabric clung to my now slightly coarse fingertips, not from wounds, but from the strength pressing beneath the skin.
I could feel how fragile this object was compared to my current body.
"Even though it's torn, I have no other choice," I murmured softly.
I began putting it on piece by piece, like a small ritual that had to be completed before moving on again.
The fabric felt thin against my skin, cold, but didn't make me shiver. Some of the buttons were missing, so I tied the front part with a small remaining piece of cloth.
The skirt was slightly torn on the right side, but still long enough to cover my knees.
I took a deep breath, smoothed my still somewhat damp hair, then stood straight. For a moment, I just stood still.
Feeling the wind touch the skin covered by the damp fabric.
Feeling the weight of my hair that was starting to dry, clinging softly to my shoulders. And amidst all that, I felt something strange, not pride, not nostalgia either.
More like the feeling of looking at a shadow of the past still clinging to the mirror, even though the person behind it had changed. I bowed my head, looking at my own hands and body.
Whether because the fabric shrank after washing, or because my body had truly changed shape.
The uniform that once looked big on me now felt just right. I pressed my wrist slowly, the skin was harder, the muscles more defined. My body was still slender as before, but there was a new density behind it, a strength that felt real with every small movement.
And when I breathed, my chest felt stronger, fuller, as if my lungs could hold more air than before.
"So this is what it feels like to have a body you can rely on..." I whispered while looking at the faint reflection in the water.
The reflection showed a young girl with long black hair starting to dry at the ends. There was something there, a calmness that wasn't fragile, like someone who had lost something, but no longer grieved over it.
A faint smile formed on my lips without me realizing. Not a sweet smile, but a thin line showing a resolve that had hardened.
I touched my cheek. Cold. But it felt real.
I didn't know if this change brought me closer or further from being human, but I knew one thing: I didn't want to return to my old self.
The wind blew again, this time stronger. The leaves trembled, scattering swaying shadows on the ground.
I took a deep breath, then tied a small string at my waist so the skirt wouldn't be loose.
The fabric rustled softly as I moved, reminding me that the world was still turning, and I was still part of it.
I glanced at the sky.
The sun had passed the treetops, leaving a pale orange color amidst the thin, low-hanging fog.
The atmosphere began to change, its not dark, but enough to signal that time wouldn't wait for me much longer.
Enough rest.
My uniform was dry.
My body was ready.
The damp soil compressed softly beneath my shoes as I shifted my stance. I still had no idea where I would go after this, but for now, that question didn't matter. Only one thing did, I had to survive in this forest.
The moist wind hit my face, carrying the scent of wet soil and fresh leaves.
The sky above began to change, its grayish color fading, replaced by pale white hues piercing through the gaps in the trees.
I looked towards the west. The sunlight pierced through the fog like blades of light, falling on the still-muddy ground surface. then looked at the clear water behind me, the place where I cleaned myself, the place where I felt... calm for the first time.
But this world didn't give room to stay still for too long.
I knew I had to keep walking. Staying still would only make me fragile again, like before.