Sylvara pressed her palm to the heart tree's bark and felt it before she could name it. Not pain. Not the slow crush of roots starved for water or the sharp snap of a breaking branch. This was different. The pulse came from somewhere beyond the western ridge, moving closer. Recognition flooded through her veins like cold water. They were coming again. She dropped to her knees and clawed through the moss at the tree's base until her fingers found the small hollow she'd carved years ago. Inside lay a smooth sphere of amethyst, no larger than a bird's egg, glowing faintly in the shadows. She'd kept it hidden since the day she refused to leave, the day she chose the forest over everything else. The ranger had given it to her once, back when they still spoke, back when reaching out didn't feel impossible. Sylvara wrapped her fingers around the cold stone and stood. The loggers were two days away, maybe less. If she sent it north now, there might still be time. But her feet wouldn't move. She looked down and saw them. Pale purple vines had grown up around her ankles during the night, dotted with tiny pink flowers that hadn't been there yesterday. They traced back toward the heart tree, joining the wider path of stone and root that spread from the trunk like veins. The forest was holding her tighter than ever, marking her body as its own. Sylvara tore her gaze away and stepped forward. The vines gave way, but she felt them resist. She closed her fist around the sphere until its edges cut into her palm. The choice was already made. She turned north and started walking. The path beneath her feet pulsed with each step. Flat vines woven with amethyst stone stretched ahead through the trees, blooming with bright pink flowers that opened as she passed. The forest was showing her the way out, even as it tried to hold her back. Blood dripped from her palm where the sphere's facets had broken skin. She didn't stop. The heart tree's distress followed her like a second heartbeat, urgent and afraid. By the time she reached the forest's edge, the sun was setting. She held the glowing sphere up to the fading light and whispered the ranger's name for the first time in years. Then she threw it as far north as her arm would carry it and watched it disappear into the dusk.