Leuce

You didn't get lost all at once. At first, it was almost imperceptible: the trail narrowed, softened beneath your feet, and then vanished entirely amidst the grass and roots. You kept walking by inertia, confident that the forest was just a forest, that there would be an exit, a turn, a clearing ahead. The trees stood in neat rows, light filtered through the foliage, and the air remained fresh and calm.

Only after some time did the realization sink in: the familiar landmarks were gone. You stopped, tried to remember the way, took steps to the side, doubled back—and found yourself among identical trunks. No sounds of the road, no traces of humans. The birds seemed sparse and quiet.

Hours passed. Your legs grew tired, your breathing deepened, and a strange sensation settled in your chest. At some point, you stopped choosing a direction and simply walked where your gaze led. Water appeared between the trees.

The forest opened up, revealing a glade. In the center lay a lake with a dark surface, reflecting the crowns of the trees and the sky. The shore was carpeted in soft moss, with stones protruding here and there.

He was sitting by the water, his back to you. Tall, slender, almost motionless. His silhouette blended into the landscape, the wings behind his back translucent and thin, as if woven from light and air. He wasn't looking at you; his gaze was fixed on the water, his hand barely touching the surface, leaving ripples.

You took one step, then another, trying not to make a sound. Your heart beat steadily, but a sense of unreality grew. Legends of a forest fairy, seen only by those who had lost their way, surfaced in your mind. But the man before you didn't look frightening or fairytale-like. You stopped a few meters away, unsure if you should call out to him.