Принято. Переведу всю сцену дословно, с сохранением структуры и атмосферы. Все диалоги оформлены с помощью дефисов.
The morning began with them returning to where they had already been.
Keven noticed it first. He stopped, cursed, and pointed at a tree.
– This spruce. Fallen on its side, scorched at the base. We passed it already. An hour ago.
– The forest can look similar, – said Syres without turning.
– This isn't similar. It's the same place.
Ellie approached the tree and examined it. The mark she had carved – an arrow pointing downward – was now turned sideways.
Not just erased or shifted. As if someone had copied it and ruined it.
– This isn't my mark, – she said. – The shape's similar, but not quite. I didn't do this.
Tilda was already kneeling and touching the ground with her palm. Then she straightened up, brushed her hands off, and said:
– The magic here is stagnant. Like a swamp. It's not flowing... I don't feel hostility. Just... strangeness.
– This isn't a mistake on the map, – added Keven. – We're actually walking in circles.
– Not in circles, – Syres corrected. – We're returning because the path leads us to where we're supposed to go.
– Say cryptic stuff all you want – no one listens, – Keven muttered. – Just say it straight: is this a trap or not?
– No. It's a mechanism.
Syres said it calmly, as if discussing how a water mill works.
– The forest tests. First – orientation. Then – perception.
Ellie said nothing. She stepped toward the nearest tree.
At the base lay a sheet of paper. She picked it up. It was her old journal page. Torn, ink-stained. The same one she had burned several weeks ago.
– What do you think this is? – she asked Syres.
– The forest gives back what you threw away... Sometimes – to remind you. Sometimes – to see if you lied to yourself.
Ellie didn't reply.
She folded the paper. Put it in her bag.
– Are you alright in the head? – Keven asked bluntly.
– I am, – Syres answered calmly. – The road, though... we'll see. – He looked around. – Let's move. We're close.
– Close to what?
– To the next repeat.
Tilda only sighed and walked ahead. Ellie followed her. The forest stirred. Not threateningly – just... as if it noticed she'd stopped being afraid.
– This way, – said Syres without looking back.
He stepped off the barely visible path and into the brush without slowing down. The others exchanged glances, then followed. First bushes, then rotting trees, a collapsed slope – and then they came upon a hut hidden in the shadows.
– Someone lived here? – asked Keven.
– Tried to, – Syres replied. – Not for long. The forest doesn't let everyone stay.
The hut was lopsided.
Its roof overgrown with moss. One corner had collapsed.
The door hung on a single hinge. Through the gap, a dark stain was visible.
Around it – weeds, but among them something strange: thick, fleshy leaves with purple veins Ellie had never seen before.
– Careful, – said Tilda, stepping closer. – There's a strong distortion here. Like the forest's magic pooled up and stayed.
Syres tilted his head slightly, listening.
– It's whispering louder. It likes this place.
Ellie silently stepped inside first. The floor creaked underfoot. Inside – almost nothing: remains of a clay hearth, a broken basin, and... plants.
They grew through the floorboards. Through the cracks in the walls. One curled around an old wooden pillar as if trying to keep it from falling.
She crouched and ran her finger along a stem. And then – she felt it.
Not in words.
But as if the plant told her: "you see me."
Her heart started beating faster. She exhaled, looked at her fingers.
Her skin tingled – not from cold. More like... after a mild burn.
Warm. Alive.
– You hear it? – asked Syres, standing in the doorway.
She didn't answer right away. Then slowly nodded.
– It's not a voice. Not a sound. I just... understand.
Syres smiled. A warm smile – but too confident.
– Congratulations. Now the forest understands you too.
– What does that mean? – asked Tilda, stepping inside. She frowned. – Ellie, your face is flushed.
– I'm fine, – Ellie replied. – Just... strange.
– It's a blessing, – said Syres. – Not to be confused with gifts of the gods. It's not a present. It's... access. The forest speaks to her now. Not in voice. In its own way.
Keven only grunted:
– I'd rather be spoken to with food and gold.
Ellie stood up.
– Don't worry. I can still navigate. It's just... another language. – She looked at the plant. – And I like it.
They spent less than an hour in the hut. Took notes. Marked the place on the map. When they came out, the sun was already leaning toward the horizon.
But Ellie had been walking a little differently since then. As if listening to every step.
Second day on the trail. There should've been three hours left to the checkpoint. But the terrain... changed.
– This isn't what I marked, – said Ellie, checking her map. – Look: the slope should be north, but it's in front of us. And the trees...
She trailed off.
All the trees had been of one type. Until now. And now completely different crowns, different leaves.
Even the bark color had changed.
– Did any of you notice when everything changed? – Tilda asked.
– No, – Keven answered. – We were walking. Just walking. Like always.
– But this isn't like always, – said Ellie, looking to the side. – I feel... – She went silent.
– You feel, – repeated Syres. He stopped, turned to her. – Because now you're part of this.
– This isn't normal, – Tilda snapped. – We're not in an illusion, but the space is bending. Route logic is broken. This isn't possible without...
– Without will.
Syres stepped closer. He was smiling, but his eyes were... too alive.
– The forest doesn't hold you by force. It just shows you: look, it's different here. No rot of the city. No foreign orders. No war, no gold. Just silence. And you. – He turned to Ellie. – Isn't this what you long for when you walk alone?
Ellie didn't answer. Tilda pressed her lips together.
– We have a job, – she said firmly. – We need to get through, mark the points, return. Everything else is secondary.
– Yes. Of course, – Syres agreed easily. – But return... for what? To crowd in the guild again? To obey those who don't even know what the forest smells like in the morning?
– You're being paid to guide, – Keven growled. – Not to preach.
– Paid. But what's worth more – money or peace?
Silence.
Ellie looked at him. He spoke calmly, steadily. No pressure. But it felt like his words were sinking under the skin. Softly. Convincingly. Dangerously.
– If you don't want to stay, don't, – he said suddenly. As if he'd read her. – I'm not persuading you. Just... know this. – He waved his hand, as if indicating the forest as a whole. – Here, you don't have to be needed. It's enough to be.
They walked in silence after that. Tilda frowned. Keven kept glancing at Syres's back. And Ellie felt: the forest was stroking her, like it was trying to say: "see, we're kind. don't be afraid."
She wanted not to be afraid. But the fear wasn't for her body. It was for her resolve.
The night was dark, but not dead. The forest didn't sleep.
It shifted. Crackled. Breathed in and out too quietly.
Ellie couldn't sleep. She tossed, then quietly slipped from under her blanket, pulled on her jacket, shoved her feet into boots, and stepped out of the tent.
Not for light. Not for any need. Just... something was wrong.
Tilda breathed steadily, Keven snored short but clear.
But Syres was gone. His tent was open. Empty.
She saw him a few minutes later.
He stood by a tree, back to her. In one hand – a chunk of charcoal. In the other – a knife. He drew on the bark with the charcoal, then carved something above the line. Neat, clean symbols. Not runes. Not letters. Something of his own.
Unclear. Then he spoke. Not loudly. But not in a whisper. Not in Common. Not in Elvish. The words were slippery, as if their meaning slid off.
Ellie tried to listen – she couldn't.
At that moment, the leaves on the nearest bush slowly turned toward him. The grass at his feet stretched lazily toward the mark on the tree. And on one trunk, a mushroom emerged from the moss – and opened like a flower, though it was the deep, cold hour of the night.
Syres finished, nodded to something unseen, ran a finger over the mark – and it dulled, as if drawn into the bark. He turned. Didn't notice her.
And walked on. To the next tree.
Ellie didn't follow him.
She returned to camp. Quietly. Stopped by her tent. And froze.
On the nearby stone, where before there had been only bare grey surface, now the same mark appeared.
Small. Thin. Almost invisible.
It didn't glow. But it was felt.
Like a lump in your throat when you want to say something important – and can't.
She didn't touch it. Didn't wake anyone. Just went back inside, sat in her spot. And didn't lie down.
Until morning she just sat.
And listened.
The forest whispered.
Morning began without words.
Syres was already standing at the edge of the camp, tightening the strap on his travel bag. He smiled, as if he already knew the route would be easy.
– Ready to go? – he asked. Not rushed, but confident.
– You haven't even looked at the map, – Keven muttered, getting up.
– I already know where to go, – Syres answered. – The forest guides.
Ellie looked up. He stood by a tree – and on the bark was a mark. The same one. Thin, cut in an arc. She had seen him carve it at night. Now he was leading them by those signs.
She said nothing.
They moved on.
Half an hour later, she noticed the second. Then the third. Each mark was on the trees where he had stopped during the night.
Not too obvious.
But clear enough.
He wasn't searching for the path.
He was following one he'd already made.
– He's not checking, – Keven whispered, coming closer to her. – The map. Not once. – He looked ahead. – Ellie. Is this even a route?
– Technically... – she began, then fell silent. – No. We left the main one an hour ago.
– Why aren't we saying anything?
– Because he's not leading us into a pit. Not yet.
Tilda walked behind them. Sometimes she paused and touched the ground.
– The magic here is active, – she said quietly. – But... not aggressive. More like... gentle. As if we're not being pushed away, but accompanied.
Syres turned.
– Everything alright?
– Just checking, – Tilda said shortly.
– No need to worry. Everything is as it should be. – He smiled again. And again – too confidently.
Ellie walked in silence. But her fingers gripped her journal inside her bag.
She didn't yet know what she would write.
But she knew for certain: this path was no longer theirs. It was his.