The fire popped and crackled in the cooling air, sending a steady stream of grey smoke straight up to vanish into the dense, interlocking green canopy. Nimue sat on the fallen log, her hands resting quietly on her knees.
The restlessness that had hummed under her skin all morning was gone now, seemingly absorbed by the deep, ancient stillness of the forest. The scent of pine resin and damp earth was thick here, grounding her in the present moment.
Saoirse stood up, brushing a few stray leaves and bits of moss from her trousers. "We aren't just going to sit here all day, are we?"
Jack looked up from the orange embers, a playful glint in his eyes. "Right, a game."
"A game," Saoirse agreed, turning her attention to Nimue. "A scavenger hunt, little monster."
Nimue tilted her head, her interest caught by the unfamiliar term. "What is that?"
"There's a list, and you have to look for them in the woods." Saoirse pulled a crumpled piece of paper and a stub of pencil from her pocket. "I will write it down, and you must find them."
Nimue slid off the log, her trainers sinking into the thick, springy layer of dead leaves that carpeted the ground. "What things must I find?"
Saoirse crouched down on the moss, balancing the paper on her knee as she began to write. "Something smooth. Something rough. A red leaf." She wrote each item with small, quick strokes.
"A Y-shaped stick. Three different kinds of pine cones. Something that makes a sound when you shake it. A feather. A stone with a line on it."
Nimue watched the list grow, her fingers twitching at her sides with anticipation. "A feather," she repeated softly, her green eyes wide.
"If you can find one. They are quite rare if you aren't looking closely."
Jane stood up from her spot by the thick beech tree. "I will help her."
Jack stayed by the fire, adding a small, dry branch to the flames. "I will watch the camp and make sure no bears steal our tea."
Saoirse tore the paper into two pieces, handing one to Nimue and the other to Jane. "First one back with everything wins."
"There isn't a prize, is there?" Jane noted, a soft smile on her lips.
"That's more than enough."
Nimue held her list tightly. The paper was soft from being in Saoirse's pocket, and the pencil marks were already starting to smudge under her thumb. She looked at the first line: Something smooth.
She walked to the edge of the clearing where the forest floor was a chaotic tapestry of leaves, moss, and fallen branches. She crouched down, her knees pressing into the cool ground, and ran her hand over the damp earth. Her fingers brushed against a stone, grey and flat, worn smooth by years of rain and wind. She picked it up, finding it fit perfectly in the centre of her palm.
Something smooth.
She tucked it into her pocket, the weight of it comforting.
Jane was already across the clearing, searching near a massive fallen log that was half-buried in emerald moss. Nimue moved in the opposite direction, toward a cluster of ferns whose tall fronds brushed against her shoulders. The ferns were damp and smelled of deep earth.
Something rough.
She touched the bark of a nearby tree. It was certainly rough, but that seemed too easy. She kept walking, her eyes scanning the undergrowth for something more interesting. A dead branch lay on the ground with its bark peeling away in long, dry strips. She picked it up and found the wood underneath was smooth, but the bark itself was scaly and coarse. It caught on the pads of her fingers. She broke off a piece and put it in her other pocket.
Y-shaped stick.
Sticks were everywhere, scattered like forgotten bones across the forest floor. There were thin ones, thick ones, and some curved into strange, twisted arcs. She walked slowly, scanning the leaves until she found a branch that split into two, then split again. It looked like a slingshot or a very tall letter Y. She picked it up, and because it was longer than her arm, she dragged it behind her, the tip drawing a line through the brown leaves.
Jane was kneeling by a pine tree further off. "Found the pine cones," she called out, her hands full of brown treasures.
Nimue looked at her mother's pile and saw three distinct shapes. One was long and thin with tight scales; another was round and fat with scales open like flower petals; and the last was small, no bigger than her thumb. She needed her own.
The pine tree near the edge of the clearing had plenty of cones scattered at its base. She crouched down and sorted through them, the woody scent filling her nose, until she had one of each. She held all three in her cupped hands, feeling the sharp prickle of the wood against her skin.
A red leaf.
She looked up at the trees, but most of the leaves were still a deep, vibrant green. Some were beginning to turn a pale yellow, but red was harder to find in this part of the woods. She walked deeper into the trees, away from the familiar light of the clearing. She passed a low bush with dark leaves and several more trees that showed no signs of changing.
The light was greener here, the canopy so thick it felt like a roof of emerald glass. A bird called somewhere far above her. Then she saw it: a vine climbing up a gnarled tree trunk. The leaves were shaped like hearts, and one of them was a brilliant, shocking red. It's as bright as a berry, reminding her of the inside of the watermelon they had shared. She reached up and pulled it, and the stem broke with a soft, clean snap.
A feather.
She hadn't seen any birds since the one that had greeted them. She stood perfectly still, her breath held, and listened to the wind in the leaves and the distant, muffled crackle of the fire. A faint chirp sounded, followed by another. She looked up and saw a small bird, grey and brown, perched on a high branch. Its tail twitched as it watched her.
Then it took flight. It's a tiny, drifting rudder against the green backdrop. Nimue held out her hand, and it landed right on her palm. It was grey with a white tip, delicate and softer than anything she had ever felt. She tucked it into her pocket with the smooth stone, being very careful not to crush it.
For the object that made a sound, she found a dried seed pod. It was brown and brittle, and when she shook it, the seeds inside clicked rhythmically against the walls. Finally, she found a stone with a white line running across it like a crack that hadn't quite broken through the surface.
When she returned to the clearing, Jane was already there, her findings spread out on a flat log. Saoirse was examining them. Nimue walked over and emptied her pockets, laying out the smooth stone, the rough bark, the Y-shaped stick, the three pine cones, the red leaf, the feather, the seed pod, and the stone with the white line.
Saoirse looked at the pile, then up at Nimue. "You found every single one."
"Yes."
"Even the feather. Well done."
Nimue pulled the grey feather with the white tip from the pile and held it up to catch the light. Jane touched it gently. "That's from a chickadee."
"What is a chickadee?"
"A bird. A small one. They say their own name. Chick-a-dee-dee-dee."
Nimue looked at the feather. Chickadee. She said it in her head and decided it fit the small, busy bird perfectly.
Saoirse clapped her hands once. "Now we make things with our treasures."
She pulled a paper plate and a glue stick from the basket. The glue was a bright purple, though Saoirse promised it would dry clear. "We will make a collage. Everything you found gets stuck on the plate."
Nimue looked at her pile. "All of it?"
"Whatever fits."
She picked up the glue stick, finding the purple paste thick and waxy. She spread it on the back of the red leaf and pressed it onto the plate. The edges curled slightly, but it held. The feather went next.
She was very careful with it, spreading glue only on the quill and pressing it down while the soft barbs caught on her fingers. She broke the bark into smaller pieces and fitted them around the edges like a frame. The smooth stone was too heavy for the glue, so she set it beside the plate to guard it.
Saoirse then handed her a handful of smooth, flat stones from the basket. "For painting, if you want."
Nimue picked one up. It was a pale, clean grey and felt cool against her skin. Jane brought out a small box of bright paints: red, blue, yellow, and green. Nimue dipped a thin brush into the red and painted a tiny dot on the stone. Then she added another, and then a line. She wasn't trying to make anything specific at first; she was just enjoying the feel of the wet paint gliding over the stone.
Eventually, the red became a circle, and the circle became a face. She added two dots for eyes and a wobbly line for a mouth.
"A rock person," Saoirse observed.
Nimue looked at it. The face was lopsided and the eyes were uneven, but it had a certain charm. She painted another stone blue with large yellow spots, decided it was a bug, and then painted a third one green with a crooked red stripe for a snake.
Jane was painting too, her lines much straighter and neater. She created a delicate flower, a sturdy tree, and a bird in flight. Saoirse didn't paint; she simply watched, her chin resting on her hand. Her eyes moved between Nimue's busy, paint-stained hands and the growing collection of stones.
Nimue picked up a fourth stone, one that was darker, almost brown. She painted it yellow, then added a white circle with a black dot inside. It was an eye. She painted another, then a nose and a mouth. The face looked like someone she knew, though she couldn't quite put a name to the resemblance.
The light changed while they worked. The gold deepened into a rich, heavy orange, and the shadows began to stretch long across the clearing. The sun was disappearing behind the thick trees. Jack stood by the fire ring and added larger branches, coaxing the flames higher until they cast a warm, flickering light across the entire camp.
Saoirse began to unpack the rest of the basket: foil, a sharp knife, chocolate, marshmallows, and a bundle of small potatoes and carrots wrapped in clean cloth.
"Dinner," Saoirse announced. "A proper campfire dinner."
She laid the ingredients out on a flat stone. Nimue knelt beside her, her hands still sticky with dried purple glue and bits of paint.
"Each person gets their own packet," Saoirse explained. "You pick exactly what goes inside."
Nimue picked up a small potato with thin, dusty skin and set it on a square of silver foil. She added a carrot and a slice of onion that fell apart into rings in her hand. Saoirse showed her how to add a pat of butter and a generous pinch of salt before folding the foil and crimping the edges tight.
"Like a parcel," Nimue said.
"Like a present for your stomach." Saoirse folded her own packet. "For the fire it goes."
Jack pushed the burning logs to one side, creating a bed of glowing, fierce embers. Saoirse placed the foil packets directly onto the coals, using a long stick to nudge them into the centre of the heat. The foil gleamed orange in the firelight. "Now we wait for the magic to happen."
The banana boats were next.
Saoirse handed Nimue a banana that was still slightly green at the stem. "Slice it open down the middle, but don't go all the way through the bottom skin."
Nimue used the small wooden-handled knife to press into the skin. It split with a soft pop. She pried it open like a pocket and stuffed it full of chocolate chips and tiny, puffy marshmallows until the banana bulged. She wrapped it in foil just like the dinner packets.
The foil packets came out of the fire first, their bottoms blackened with soot. Saoirse slid them onto a flat rock to cool for a moment.
"Careful, chérie," Jane warned. "It's very hot."
Nimue waited as steam rose from the packets, carrying the rich, heavy scent of melted butter and roasted onion.
Jack opened his first, and the vegetables tumbled out, soft and steaming. He blew on a piece of potato before taking a bite. "Good," he said, nodding.
Nimue opened hers and found the carrots were soft and the potatoes were crumbly and hot. Everything had been basted in the melted butter. She ate with her fingers, ignoring the heat because the food tasted so wonderful out in the open air.
They sat on the log with their backs to the tent, eating in a comfortable silence while the forest grew dark and the stars began to wake.
The banana boats were the final treat. Saoirse unwrapped one and peeled back the charred skin. The chocolate and marshmallows had melted into a bubbling, gooey mess within the soft banana flesh.
"Try it," Saoirse said, handing her a spoon.
Nimue scooped up a bite. The banana was soft, almost liquid, and the hot chocolate and stretchy marshmallow were incredibly sweet.
Saoirse grinned at the expression on Nimue's face. "That's the one."
"What face?"
"The 'this is the best thing I have ever eaten' face."
Nimue happily finished every bit of the sticky treat.
As the fire burned down to pulsing red coals, Saoirse went to the tent and returned with a flashlight. "Shadow show. Watch the wall."
She sat on the ground facing the tent wall and turned the light on. The beam hit the canvas in a bright, sharp circle. Saoirse moved her hand in front of it, creating the silhouette of a bird. Her fingers were the wings, flapping open and closed.
"Caw," Saoirse said. "Caw caw."
Nimue stared, fascinated by the movement. The bird flew across the canvas before vanishing into the dark. Saoirse then curled her fingers to make a dog, its mouth opening and closing as she made a playful "woof" sound.
Nimue sat beside her, her shadow joining the others. "Show me how."
Saoirse handed her the flashlight. "Make a shape. Any shape at all."
Nimue's hand was small, and she struggled to make a bird. "Try a snake," Saoirse suggested. "That's an easy one."
Nimue flattened her hand and waved it in front of the light. The shadow on the tent was long and twisting.
"Sss," she hissed, watching the shadow move like it was alive.
Jane joined them, her larger hands creating a rabbit with long, floppy ears that hopped across the canvas. Jack made a bear, his large hand casting a huge, rumbling shadow that growled low in his throat. Nimue laughed, the sound bright and clear in the quiet woods.
They made shadows for a long time until their hands grew tired and the flashlight beam began to wobble. They moved back to the fire, where the heat was now soft and wrapping around them.
Jane spread a thick blanket on the ground. "Stories now. Lie down."
Nimue lay back, feeling the hard ground through the fabric. Cinder curled against her side, his warmth seeping through her shirt. Above the clearing, the trees blocked out most of the sky, but there was a gap that revealed a circle of black peppered with points of light.
"Look up," Saoirse said. "What do you see in the heavens?"
"Stars," Nimue whispered. There were thousands of them, far more than she had ever seen in London or even at the manor. They seemed to pulse with their own light.
"Connect them," Jack said. "Find a shape that belongs to you."
Nimue squinted at the random scattering of lights. "That one, and that one, and that one. It's a triangle."
"A witch's hat," she decided a moment later, pointing.
"Good. What about those over there?" Jack pointed to another cluster.
"A fish," Nimue said. "The tail is there, and the head is over there."
Saoirse laughed. "I see it now."
They spent the next hour naming shapes: a boat, a tree, a cat without a tail. Nimue invented her own names for the more chaotic clusters: The Spilled Milk, The Broken Ladder, and The Frog Who Lost His Foot.
Jane point it out "That's the Big Dipper. See? Four stars for the bowl and three for the handle."
Nimue followed her finger, and the shape became clear once it had a name.
"And that's the North Star at the end of the handle," Jane said. "Sailors used it to find their way home across the sea."
Nimue looked at the star. It was steadier than the others, glowing with a constant light. "Can we use it if we get lost?"
"If we know how to read it," Jack said. "I will teach you. Someday soon."
Saoirse began to sing then, a song that was low and slow. It isn't in English or French; it was something older and deeper that seemed to come from the earth itself. The melody wove through the crackle of the dying fire. Jack joined in with his rougher, lower voice, and Jane hummed the melody.
Nimue's eyes grew heavy as she listened to the harmony. The stars blurred above her. When the song finished, Saoirse looked at her. "Your turn."
Nimue shook her head, her voice thick with sleep. "I don't know any songs."
"Anyone can sing. Just make something up from your heart."
Nimue thought about the warmth of the fire, the bright stars, and the soft weight of the fox at her side. She opened her mouth and let the words out.
"Stars are high. Fire is low. Forest is dark, but we aren't alone."
Her voice was small, but she sang the lines again, finding a simple rhythm. Saoirse joined her, her voice weaving around Nimue's tune. Then Jane and Jack joined in too. They sang together, four voices and a fox, under the circle of stars.
Finally, the fire burned down to glowing embers. Jane stood up and stretched her back. "Bedtime."
Nimue didn't want to move from the warm blanket, but Jane helped her up. Her legs were stiff and her eyes were leaden with sleep. They crawled into the tent where the groundsheet felt rough and cool beneath them. Cinder found his usual spot at Nimue's feet, and Jack zipped the door closed. The canvas walls glowed with the faint, dying light of the fire outside.
Nimue lay on her back, seeing the witch's hat and the fish in her mind's eye. "Tomorrow," she whispered into the dark, "we find the stream."
"Tomorrow," Jack promised.
The forest was dark and the fire was fading, but as Cinder's breathing slowed against her feet, Nimue fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
= = =
Since I'm in the mood to chat, I want to talk a bit about my concept for the SI in this fic, and my MCs in general.
Like I mentioned before, she's basically an incarnation, a shard of a higher being… "me." So of course, she carries parts of my personality, hobbies, and traits. But she isn't completely me. Her personality is also shaped by her family, her environment, and everything around her.
Because of that "higher being" aspect, she has a certain sense of detachment. It lets her ignore things easily, or even act in ways that lean toward cruelty without feeling much guilt.
At the same time, she grows up surrounded by love, so those traits never fully take over. Instead, they blend with everything else that shapes her.
That's why I see her as a morally grey character. She isn't truly evil, but she will never be on the "good" side either.
Later on, you might run into moments where you just want to smack some sense into her.
She can be really annoying. Honestly, sometimes worse than Draco or the other kids. But she can also be gentle, responsible, surprisingly soft and thoughtful in certain situations.
In my eyes, she's a very complex character. I just hope I can portray that clearly in the story. I've spent years researching, planning her development, and building her personality, mapping her path… it would hurt if none of that comes through to you.
Since we're talking about MCs, I want to introduce another OC of mine. She's still in the research stage, and even her basic character profile isn't fully complete yet.
Her name is Xiao Hanying (萧涵瑛).
"Xiao" is her family name. "Han" (涵) carries the meaning of depth, restraint, or inner composure, often linked to something vast like water. "Ying" (瑛) refers to a kind of luminous jade or crystal, something clear and precious. Put together, her name gives the impression of someone refined, calm on the surface, but quietly radiant underneath.
She will be the main character of my original work. Not fanfiction this time. It's going to be xianxia.
The premise is still transmigration. Honestly, most of my SI stories will use that trope. If you want more details, you can check the character sheet document I shared before.
In short, she transmigrates into a novel she read. But instead of becoming an existing character, she enters that world as herself, within the same setting and timeline.
If Morwenna's "curse" shows through her frost magic, then for Hanying, it manifests in her physique. You can probably guess what that means.
Yes… a pure yin body. The kind often treated as a furnace or cauldron.
The sect she eventually joins is the Hehuan Sect, where she focuses on charm and illusion techniques. Her weapon will be something tied to music, either a qin or a flute. I haven't fully decided yet.
She'll also develop a bit of a "green tea" personality. Not from childhood, but gradually, as she leaves her original home and steps into the wider world. I think that shift will make things more interesting. She'll end up with quite a few admirers… completely wrapped around her finger.
That's all I can share about her for now. And yes, it will be F/F. Of course it is.
So… does she catch your interest?
I hope you'll grow curious about Hanying too. Maybe she'll appear a few years from now, once I've done enough research and found the right rhythm for Morwenna's story.
I hope, when that time comes, you'll care about and come to like her just as much as you do about Morwenna.