Laura Worthington's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Laura's best friend had walked into the forests of Wisteria six days ago and never walked out. Now Laura stood at the tree line, holding the only thing left behind: a small silver locket tangled in the roots of an ancient oak. She had come to these woods for answers, and the locket was the first real one she'd found. She needed to open it. But her hands shook too hard, and the trees above her groaned like something was watching. The oak's wide branches swept low, closing around the clearing like arms. She couldn't examine the locket here. Not with the light already draining from the sky. A motorcycle engine cut through the quiet. James Ryder rolled to a stop at the edge of the path, boots crunching gravel. He was the boy her friend used to sneak out to meet, the one everyone's parents warned them about. Laura barely knew him. She only knew he'd been the last person to see her friend alive. "You shouldn't touch things out here," he said. He didn't get off the bike. "Woods keep what they take." "She left this." Laura held up the locket. "I have to see what's inside." James studied her a long moment. Then he jerked his head toward the road. "Bakery's still open. Go there. Not here." He rode off before she could answer. Laura looked at the oak. Its branches had crept lower, or she imagined they had. She stopped imagining and ran. The Bippity Boppity Bakery sat warm and bright a short walk down the path. Purple lavender sprigs lined the little fence, their sweet smell cutting the forest damp. A ring of the same flowers circled the whole building, and Laura noticed the woods stopped exactly where the lavender began. Nothing crept past that line. She pushed inside. The shop was empty. She sat at a corner table, set the locket down, and finally breathed. Her thumb found the clasp. It clicked open. Inside was no photo. Instead, a tiny folded note, pressed flat. Laura's own name was written on it in her friend's handwriting. She unfolded it with careful fingers. "Laura — if you're reading this, they took me before I could warn you. Don't trust the one who told you to come inside. Burn the lavender. It's not protection. It's a leash." Laura's breath stopped. She looked up at the flowers lining the window. Then at the door James had sent her through. The warm little bakery no longer felt safe. It felt like a trap someone had led her straight into. She folded the note, shoved it deep in her pocket, and stood. She had her first answer. It only made everything worse.