"Who could that be at this time?"
Aralyn heard the voice from behind the door just as it opened. Her hands had been trembling the whole time while holding the rye cinnamon rolls. She had thought about leaving, but that choice seemed useless the moment she heard that voice.
Mrs. Collin gasped–quite loudly at that–and opened her arms, welcoming her in.
"Aralyn, dear! It's so nice to see you this morning. Come, come, we'll have some tea."
"Oh, no, no, that won't be necessary–"
"Nonsense! I am truly happy you decided to come," she bubbled, then sniffed the air. "My goodness, what are those?"
Aralyn awkwardly held out the pastry.
"Uh, I-I made some rolls. I mean, rye cinnamon rolls," she stuttered. She didn't know why her talking abilities had suddenly shrunk down to that of a middle schooler. But the genuine smile on Mrs. Collin's face steadied her.
"I didn't know you could bake. Oh, that smells good. Let's go to the kitchen," she said, leading her inside.
Her house seemed... full. Full of old things–vintage ones like cabbage ware and rustic brass items she couldn't even name. A few family members were sitting in the living room, too busy scrolling on their phones to notice her.
She swallowed the lump in her throat when she noticed the house was full of ornate mirrors. Even the entryway had one. Aralyn forced herself not to look into any of them and kept her eyes straight ahead.
"So, uh, Mrs. Collin, how many grandchildren do you have?" she asked.
"Probably two dozen. Put it over here, my dear," she said as they arrived in the kitchen.
Aralyn complied, and Mrs. Collin began slicing the rolls. Aralyn only watched as the old woman bustled around the kitchen, taking two mugs with floral, romantic designs.
This lady loves vintage so much.
"How are you, Aralyn dear? You're not under the weather, right?" she queried while pouring tea into the cups, her eyes glazed with concern as she vaguely gestured to Aralyn's neck. "Oh! I remember you said you like wearing it. Sorry, my memory isn't what it used to be," Mrs. Collin sighed.
"You're alright. I'm feeling great, by the way," Aralyn replied honestly, taking the cup Mrs. Collin pushed toward her. "How are you doing, Mrs. Collin? Not too stressed about your grandkids, I hope."
Mrs. Collin smiled and waved her hand fondly.
"Oh, you know how kids can be. One minute you're holding them while they're still just babies, and the second you take your eyes off them, they're already huge!"
She took a bite of the rolls and sighed dreamily, closing her eyes.
"You know, dear," she said with her mouth full, "I think you could make a great baker someday. These are heavenly!"
Aralyn allowed herself a small smile, her fingers nursing the rim of her cup.
"I don't know about that, Mrs. Collin."
"Don't you fret about opening a shop just yet. Your home would be a start," she suggested.
But before Aralyn could answer, a woman about her age came up and took a slice of the rolls.
"Aralyn, this is my daughter, Maya."
Aralyn nodded in acknowledgment, though Maya didn't seem to care. She took a big bite, moaning instantly.
"Mom, these are so good. Can you make them for Hannah's party this Saturday? I would love to see Mrs. Pinnings' reaction when she eats the best rolls in town made by you."
Aralyn shifted uncomfortably where she stood.
Mrs. Collin only smiled proudly as she said, "I didn't make them. It was Aralyn who did."
Maya stopped chewing immediately, and her gaze finally landed on Aralyn for the first time. She swallowed rather disgustingly, then threw the unfinished roll into a nearby bin, earning a smack on her arm.
"Maya! That was a waste of food. Why did you do that?" Mrs. Collin scolded, her face falling in disappointment.
Aralyn only lowered her head, avoiding eye contact.
"I would not eat anything this lady makes, Mom. You have no idea what she puts into it–probably hexing it to make us like her," Maya grimaced, washing her hands in the sink.
"I never taught you to behave like this, young lady," Mrs. Collin warned. "Come here and apologize to her."
"But Mom–"
"Now," Mrs. Collin ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument.
Maya turned around, a pure look of disgust written all over her face. Her voice was strained.
"I'm sorry."
Mrs. Collin let out a breath of relief when Maya added,
"For eating that shit you call food," and walked away quickly.
"Maya! You get back here!"
"I'm sorry, I need to go," Aralyn finally said, finishing her tea.
"No, please, dear, stay. You don't know how happy I am to see you come here this morning," Mrs. Collin pleaded. It truly was her pleasure to see someone as secluded as Aralyn willingly come by–and a downright disappointment to see her daughter behave this way.
"It's okay. I forgot something back home anyway. Thank you for the tea," Aralyn said and made her exit.
Once she was out on the porch, she heard Maya's voice behind her.
"Go back to your stinking hot cave wearing that!"
Aralyn was enraged as she walked away. This was why she would never make friends with anyone. Mrs. Collin was an exception–she had been nothing but kind and warm toward her for the past three years.
Her eyes stung with tears. She wiped them away harshly.
"You bastard. You should know better than to go there," she muttered, her hands buried deep in her jacket.
Her destination was supposed to be her home, and yet she found herself wandering around the town under the morning sun. The streets were quieter than usual, the warmth of the day settling lazily over the roofs and shopfronts.
Up ahead, she saw a truck with a few people standing behind it, holding what looked like a decorative cement orb.
It was really pretty. The intricate designs of flowers around it were what took her attention. The details were too precise, too perfect to be made by humans. But then again, humans often surpassed her expectations.
One of the men held up his hand, waving at her. Aralyn nodded in return. She recognized him as the mayor of Dewhurst town, Grayson Fletcher. He waved her over, and Aralyn had no choice but to approach them.
"How are you, Miss Odie? Been expecting you to come out from your house once in a while," Grayson started.
"It's Ode–"
"What do you think? Fit for a king, eh?" he gloated, patting the orb proudly. "Be careful! This thing costs more than your wages!"
Aralyn rolled her eyes in annoyance. After three years, people still called her Odie. She couldn't blame them either. She didn't get out much to talk to people, let alone making friends. And yet, it still annoyed her.
"It's beautiful. Where'd you get it?"
Grayson was bald, a bit shorter than her, his round face flushed under the heat, thick around the middle. "I found it by the shore this morning. Been waiting around for someone to come back for it, but they didn't. We shouldn't leave this pretty thing alone out there, are we?"
His breath reeked of cigarettes, and it was truly unpleasant. Aralyn subtly took a step back.
Grayson continued to shout orders and command the men until the truck finally rumbled away toward his home.
Aralyn then caught someone running at the corner of her eye. Turning on her heels, she saw two kids running off into the woods without a care in the world.
Aralyn scoffed and turned back toward the path leading to her home. But something about it just tugged the life out of her. Her steps slowed.
She stopped walking and turned to face the woods again.
That hair looked familiar, she thought.
She sighed heavily. "To hell with this."
Losing to her own internal battle, she followed the trail the kids had taken earlier. The forest path swallowed the sunlight quickly, shadows stretching between the trees. Parts of her screamed that she should leave. But another voice, quieter yet far more stubborn, played its part too well.
Save them while you still can.
Her past self hadn't been able to do anything to stop it. Though she had vowed never to make any acquaintance of any sort, saving a life should be an exception–especially if she was already in the vicinity.
And so she stepped deeper into the woods.
The woods were thicker than she had anticipated. It felt like she had walked for miles when a distinct chatter reached her ears ahead. Slowly, carefully, she crouched lower, trying not to snap the fallen twigs and branches underfoot.
"They are sad," said one small, uncertain voice. The other replied, "They got hurt too."
Aralyn stayed hidden behind a large tree trunk. She was confident they didn't know she was there, yet she recognized the voices.
"Who's there?"
Lucas's voice rang out, loud and firm. Aralyn froze. How the hell does he know? she whispered quietly to herself.
"Miss Odie?"
Calliope's small voice followed, making her even more cautious and fascinated. Reluctantly, she stepped out of her hiding place. Calliope was peeking from behind Lucas, wide-eyed.
"Miss Odea? What're you doing here?" Lucas demanded. His eyes were frantic, but the protective hand shielding Calliope never faltered.
"I should be the one asking you that. What are you doing here, in the middle of the woods? Alone? Aren't your parents going to find out?" Aralyn asked, folding her arms across her chest.
"You shouldn't be nosy about other people's business," he shot back, glare unwavering. She raised a brow. For a five-year-old, he sure had the soul of a thirty-year-old man.
"That other people's business became my business," she emphasized, "when they got themselves into danger. Tell me why you're here."
Lucas slowly softened his features and turned to his sister. "Should we tell her?"
Calliope nodded. Lucas faced Aralyn. "We came because we heard them in pain."
"Who's in pain?"
Lucas gestured to the trees around them. "We heard them since dawn."
Aralyn watched as Calliope stepped toward a nearby tree, pressing her small palm against the rough bark.
"What is she doing, Lucas?" Aralyn asked.
"That's her way of feeling them through her hands. We both can hear them, but she can feel them more through touch," he explained. "Something has happened."
"Oh, Luke," Calliope whispered, her voice trembling, "it's bad."
"Okay, you're freaking me out. What is happening here?"
"The trees," Lucas said solemnly, "they didn't like how salty it gets."
Aralyn blinked in confusion. "What?"
"That's just how they tell it to us, Miss Odea. It's hard to explain. But all we know is... something has happened." His eyes darkened as he scanned the forest. Calliope suddenly ran to him, wrapping her small arms around his side.
"Callie? What's wrong?"
Calliope said nothing, hugging him tighter. Then the wind picked up, stronger than before, shaking the branches overhead. The sun had been hidden behind angry clouds, casting the town under a sudden, muted gloom.
"Come on! We should get you home!" Aralyn said, taking Lucas's hand. They made their way back toward town, the first drops of rain splattering across their faces.
"Shit," she muttered, glancing at the kids as they huddled under her arms. She started to remove her jacket yet stopped midway, but remembered the turtleneck underneath and instead yanked the jacket around the twins, sheltering them as best she could.
"Where's your home?" she asked. Lucas shouted over the growing rain, "It's over there! Just follow me!"
She was drenched by the time they reached the outskirts of the town. Muttering under her breath, she grumbled, "Great. Being the hero of the day only got me wet."
They arrived at the front porch just as the door swung open. A woman with brown hair tied in an updo, wearing an apron, stepped out with a worried expression. "There you are! Your father has been searching for you ten minutes ago!" she scolded, crouching to hug the twins. Realizing they weren't alone, she quickly straightened when her eyes landed on Aralyn.
"Thank you, Aralyn, Aralyn, right?"
"Yes. I should be going now," Aralyn replied, stepping back into the rain, ignoring the woman's calls. "Aralyn! Please stay until the rain subsides!"
She didn't listen, letting the rain soak her. For a moment, it felt almost peaceful–until a car slowed beside her, the driver's side mirror rolling down.
"Fancy walking in the rain, stranger?" Noah asked. "Jump in, I'll drop you off."
"No, thanks."
"Hey, I'm just doing my moral duty," he said, smiling, but Aralyn showed no sign of stopping.
"That's very gentlemanly of you. Find someone else."
"There's no one else out here but you. I won't take no for an answer."
Aralyn slowed her steps. Rainwater ran down her lashes as she blinked them away. Her home was still far, and the storm showed no signs of letting up. Noah gestured toward her with a tilt of his head. "I won't bite. I promise."