Life is insane, bewildering—a fantasy.
A while ago, she was whimpering through tears. Now, she smiles.
Now that love echoes in mellow hymns.
The honeymoon is a page turned.
If God permits, let this love stay—forever.
Space fleets for all... if feasible, let time slow just a little longer.
"You're crazy!" Neva scolds, flustered.
Her husband only laughs, victorious—her cheeks already flushed scarlet.
She's adorned in a soft flax-smoke prairie dress, laced and puff-sleeved—perfect in its cottagecore grace.
A cream-knit sweater drapes over her shoulders to ward off the cold. He's in casual drawstring pants and a black hooded jacket, as laid-back as he feels.
The newlyweds wander through the dense woods. Snow from their wedding day still clings to the earth but slowly begins to thaw.
Man and wife—it has been four days now.
Young and wild, they live this blossoming love, the past three days have passed in a tender blur.
Sunrise and moonrise found the lovers curled in bed, making love through day and night.
"Crazy for you," Rhett whispers, sliding his arm around her shoulders, tugging her close. "Crazy in love with you." His voice rasps against her ear.
Neva's cheeks flame as his breath feathers her skin. He chuckles, dazed with affection, and presses a kiss to her rosy cheek.
This morning, Neva had finally gathered the courage to step out of their cottage, whispering her wish to explore the woods beyond the Ziriri countryside.
From the moment they arrived, the sleeping forest in the distance had called to her heart.
Rhett couldn't refuse.
Especially when he wants to replace her nightmares with light.
She doesn't deserve to live in fear—doesn't deserve to carry guilt for what was never her fault.
And maybe a peaceful walk through the comforting woods might help her reclaim her breath. Her life.
He unwraps his arm and instead laces their fingers together. They walk side by side into the wintry grove.
Neva sighs, her heart lightening as her gaze drinks in the shallow snow that clings to the branches and melts underfoot.
Tall, narrow trees stretch skyward—bare and thorny, with wet, skeletal arms.
Winter hides shyly. Moss peeks out as snow melts, dressed in merry velvet green.
Uncut creepers and wild vines coil along the forest deep, solemn and serene.
The birds are quiet.
Even the wind hushes—as if the forest is holding its breath.
"Will it snow today?" Neva asks, tilting her head to glimpse the sky through pine-stitched rifts overhead.
They've been walking for a little while longer than planned.
"Perhaps," Rhett says, but his eyes are fixed on her. "It doesn't look—"
A scream slices through the hush of the woods.
A girl's scream—loud and desperate.
Neva flinches, instinctively clutching Rhett's arm.
His head jerks toward the sound. Senses on high alert.
Then, feeling her tremble, he turns to her.
"Angel," he whispers, cupping her face, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks. "You're okay." Concern floods his eyes as he pulls her into his arms.
Her breath comes shallow.
The scream ripped open an old wound in her spirit.
"W-who was that?" she whispers, clutching his hoodie.
She sees them—ghosts of the past. People screaming. Crying. Dying.
"Someone's in danger," Rhett says, gently grounding her in the present. "We should help." He says, rubbing soothing circles on her back.
"Yes." She gathers herself and lightly pushes away from him.
"Will you be okay?" he asks, searching her eyes.
She nods, swallowing. Her hands tremble.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," she says more firmly. "Yes. Let's hurry."
"Stay close to me," he instructs, eyes already scanning the narrow trail ahead.
Another scream pierces the trees, even closer.
Agonized wailing rises, and they break into a run.
Neva tries to keep pace with him, her breath coming fast.
The forest echoes wildly, scattered voices tangling through thick brush, spiking vines, fallen logs.
The deeper they go, the less sunlight touches the snow, which refuses to melt.
The breeze quivers the green leaves, the wilds sway—as the lovers race toward the sound.
"Help! Somebody help!"
Rhett slows just enough to let Neva catch her breath.
He hears the voice clearly now—just ahead.
Silently, he pushes through thick underbrush, one hand parting the greenery, the other anchoring Neva.
There, just beyond a break in the trees—a frozen pond glimmers in the clearing.
A hole in the ice. A girl, fallen through.
She thrashes, her hands barely holding on to the edge, frost breaking around her.
Her cries are weakening. Her voice is hoarse. She's been screaming for a while.
Neva gasps when she sees her. "Oh my God."
They push forward, cutting through brambles and vines.
"Stay here," Rhett says, releasing Neva's hand and scanning the ground.
He finds a long, sturdy branch and approaches the pond cautiously.
He tests the ice, moving carefully.
The girl is maybe thirteen or fourteen, barely conscious, clinging to life.
Her reddened eyes catch sight of him—hope flickering.
"Please help me!" she sobs. Her voice is raw.
"It's okay. Stay calm," Rhett says gently, edging closer.
"Try to kick, pull your weight toward the ice you're holding onto."
She tries, her elbows anchoring her. But she slips.
"I can't—I can't feel my legs," she weeps.
"Breathe. We'll save you."
He inches closer to the broken edge.
"Please be careful!" Neva calls out, her voice trembling.
"Can you feel your stomach?" Rhett asks.
"I... I think so…" the girl croaks.
"Good. Grab this."
He crouches at a safe distance and extends the branch. "Use your core. I'll pull you."
Slowly, cautiously, she grabs hold. He pulls her, inch by inch, flat against the ice.
Neva watches, hands clasped to her chest, heart hammering.
The girl's body slides toward safety—then finally, finally, to the edge.
Rhett lifts her into his arms.
Neva rushes over, slips off her sweater, and wraps it around the girl.
The teen sobs, clinging to her, shaking all over.
"It's alright. You're safe," Neva whispers, holding her close.
The child leans into her warmth, breath catching in hiccuped gasps.
"I'll have to carry her," Rhett says, slipping off his jacket. He holds it out to Neva. "You'll catch cold."
Neva hesitates, glancing at the shivering girl.
"She needs it more."
"It's getting colder. Put it on," he insists gently but firmly.
Neva relents, separating from the girl and slipping into the jacket. Rhett cradles the child in his arms.
Evening falls—twilight dimming into the hush of dusk.
The woods grow murkier, quieter, and colder.
They hurry toward the distant lights of the cottages beyond the forest.
Toward safety.
Toward help.
Toward warmth.
Toward light.