Lyn watkins's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Lyn carries the photograph back to the cabin, Boosie weaving between her legs as she walks. The tree at the forest's edge glows brighter now, the purple rune pulsing in steady rhythm. She needs to understand what connects her mark to that tree, and why it appeared early. She sets up her measuring tools in the clearing just beyond the tree line, close enough to observe the rune's behavior. Boosie settles beside her, purring as Lyn sketches the pulse pattern in her diary. The runes on her sleeve brighten in time with the cat's rumble. She marks the intervals — three seconds between pulses, consistent and measurable. Then Boosie's head lifts. The cat stares at the tree, ears forward, and the purple glow intensifies. Lyn reaches for her, but Boosie bolts toward the trunk before her fingers connect. Lyn runs after her, but stops short at the tree's base. Boosie has vanished. No prints in the soil, no rustle in the underbrush. The rune pulses faster now, brighter, as if it swallowed the cat whole. Lyn's chest tightens. She calls Boosie's name, hears nothing. Then she spots the collar lying in the dirt — the one engraved with faint runes she'd traced weeks ago. It's warm to the touch, and the symbols etched into the leather match the mark on her wrist. Lyn picks up the collar and turns it over in her hands. The pattern is identical. Not similar — identical. The tree didn't just pull Boosie in. It responded to something the cat carried. She writes the observation in her diary with shaking hands, then underlines it twice. She came here to measure a connection. Now she has proof: the runes don't just glow when Boosie purrs. They act. And if the tree took her cat, Lyn has to assume it can give her back — or it already burned once, and this time she'll lose more than data.