•Apple Forest•
[Ovelia's POV]
A heavy silence settled inside the wagon, thick and expectant, broken only by the steady creak of the wheels and the rustle of leaves as we passed beneath the first gnarled boughs of the Apple Forest. The branches formed a canopy overhead, dappled sunlight filtering through in shifting patterns that danced across our faces. The air smelled of ripe fruit and old wood, sweet and ancient.
We were all waiting, our attention fixed on Gale, who sat cross-legged in the center of the wagon floor. His small form was unusually still—no fidgeting, no wing buzzing, no grumbling. Just a statue of a fairy, carved from tension.
As the dappled sunlight began to play across the floorboards, Gale finally spoke, his voice flat and hollow.
"Do you mean the story about the werewolf male traveler and the female fairy?" he asked, not looking at any of us. His gaze was fixed on the passing trees, on the red fruit hanging heavy from the branches.
