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I had been watching her all day. The one the other humans called "Alice".

From the moment she crossed the bridge that morning, I had positioned myself in the shadows at the forest's edge. She worked with quiet determination, and unlike the other farm workers who hurried through their tasks with nervous glances at the forest, she seemed almost drawn to the tree line.

I had been careless once, moving too close when she bent to lift a particularly stubborn stone. For a moment our eyes had almost met across the distance, and I felt a jolt of something I had not experienced in years. Connection.

She had sensed me, I was certain of it. The way she straightened, scanning the trees with those intelligent dark eyes before finally returning to her work.

As evening approached and she gathered her tools, I watched her prepare to leave with something uncomfortably close to regret.

She paused at the forest edge and looked back, her gaze sweeping the tree line one final time.

At that moment, I made a decision that would have horrified my more cautious nature.

I stepped forward, just enough to let her catch a glimpse of my shadow between the trees.

I remained motionless until she was well out of sight, then made my way back to my cottage through the deepening shadows.

The evening air carried the scent of pine and damp earth, and somewhere in the canopy above, an owl called to its mate.

My footsteps were silent on the moss-covered ground, following paths worn smooth by years of solitary travel.

My cottage felt different tonight. The familiar creak of the wooden door, the soft hiss of the oil lamp as I lit it—sounds that had been my only companions for so long suddenly seemed louder in the quiet space.

Tomorrow she would return. Fletcher had said the field needed to be cleared by week's end, which meant several more days of distant observation.

It had been years since I had seen someone work with such quiet determination, years since anyone had looked toward the forest with curiosity rather than fear.

I prepared my meal, listening to the familiar chorus of night sounds beyond my walls—the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush, the distant call of a fox, and the whisper of wind through the ancient oaks.

But my thoughts kept drifting to the woman in the far pasture, and I found myself wondering what had brought her to this remote place, so far from the world she clearly belonged to.