UNSURE (A JOURNEY OF THE UNKNOWN)

"First, mind your business. Second, fend for yourself. And lastly, no matter what, remain tight-lipped." Moa's tone was so severe that Lauren felt the weight of each rule, despite their absurdity.

"Lauren!" Moa's voice rang out suddenly, making her jump and spill her tea. "Rule number three is as important as your life. Break it, and you lose your life. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Moa," Lauren replied, feeling the gravity of Moa's words settle over her. This was more than a rule—it was a survival command.

Lauren had woken from a restless sleep. Her nightmares, though less frequent, still haunted her. Occasionally, the dread of past events would creep into her thoughts like shadows lurking in the corners of her mind. The loss of her parents was a hollow ache, a wound that never seemed to heal, no matter how much time passed. It had been a month since she'd come to live with "the hag." Each morning, she'd rise early and join Moa in hunting, gathering, and harvesting herbs.

Three kilometers west of Moa's home lay a small forest, modest compared to the sprawling woods Lauren had known as a child. Despite its size, it teemed with life, vibrant and overflowing with creatures, plants, and secrets. During their time there, Moa would hunt, while Lauren was assigned the task of gathering herbs, her hands slowly learning to identify the plants used for tea, medicine, and countless other remedies.

One early morning, while out gathering, a particular plant caught Lauren's attention. Its leaves were deep green and emitted a faint, sweet aroma that drew her in. Intrigued, she stretched out her hand, plucking a single leaf to inhale its scent. The fragrance was enchanting, soothing yet strangely overpowering, and within moments, Lauren felt her grip on reality loosening. The forest around her began to blur, trees bending and swaying as though they were alive.

In a daze, Lauren stripped off her cloak and wandered deeper into the woods, her thoughts clouded by the plant's effects. She barely noticed as she moved toward a clearing, where a river split the forest in two. In her dazed state, Lauren stepped into the water, the cold shock briefly jolting her back to reality—just enough for her to realize she was already knee-deep in the current.

But it was too late. Not knowing how to swim, she struggled, her frantic movements swallowed by the river's power. Exhaustion quickly overtook her as she tried to fight against the current, her vision blurring, her body weakening. Just as she was about to slip into unconsciousness, a firm hand grasped her arm, dragging her back to shore.

Before darkness fully claimed her, she looked up to see Moa's drenched, furious face hovering above her, a storm of anger and frustration etched in her expression. "I'm sorry," Lauren mouthed, just before the blackness overtook her.

She awoke later with a pounding headache and a fever that left her shivering despite Moa's best efforts to keep her warm. For days, Lauren lay on her cot, drifting in and out of sleep as Moa tended to her with herbs and teas. Gradually, each dose brought her closer to health. During those fever-ridden days, Lauren vowed never to let her curiosity lead her astray again. The forest, she realized, held beauty and danger in equal measure.

Yet each day with Moa seemed to bring a new challenge. Today, however, felt different. Moa's usual silence seemed sharper, as if something was brewing beneath her stern exterior. Just before they left the house, Moa approached Lauren, holding a strip of cloth.

"Keep this on," she ordered, blindfolding Lauren without explanation.

Curious, Lauren opened her mouth to ask why, but something in Moa's demeanor warned her to stay silent. Moa guided her into the forest, her grip firm as they maneuvered through the trees.

"What is it this time?" Lauren wondered. It was no surprise that Moa acted purely on instinct, often without pause. Lauren found this quality baffling, as it was the complete opposite of her own nature. Where Moa was decisive, Lauren struggled, often caught between choices, her indecision leaving her at the mercy of fate.

After what felt like ages, they stopped. Moa removed the blindfold, revealing a secluded area deep within the forest. She pulled out a short knife, testing its sharpness on a nearby branch. The suddenness of the action sent a jolt of fear through Lauren, her senses snapping to attention.

"She wouldn't actually harm me, would she?" Lauren thought nervously. Moa placed the knife in her hand, the cold steel pressing into her palm, sending a chill through her. Lauren shivered but held onto the knife without a word, waiting for Moa's next instruction.

A heavy silence settled over them, broken only by Moa's voice. "Don't return until you've caught a deer."

Lauren's eyes widened. "Don't be ridiculous, Moa," she said, her voice edged with frustration. "A deer? Out of all the animals, you want me to catch a deer? And with this poor excuse for a knife?"

Silence followed her outburst, and Lauren took a deep breath, her frustration building. "How am I supposed to catch a deer? I don't even know where I am. I've never hunted before! This is completely unfair!"

Moa's expression remained unreadable. After a moment, she moved closer, her breath warm against Lauren's face. "That is none of my business," she whispered, her tone low and threatening. "Return when you've caught a deer, no matter how long it takes."

And with that, she vanished into the trees, leaving Lauren alone, waves of emotion crashing over her. She looked around taking in her surroundings. Lauren had no idea where she was or which way led back to Moa's house. Once again, she found herself feeling helpless—and, more than anything, utterly alone.

As she stood there, her grip tightened around the knife. The silence of the forest seemed to mock her, its vastness echoing her isolation. Yet she couldn't deny a small spark flickering in the back of her mind. For the first time, she wasn't just an observer; she was an active participant in her own survival.