That evening, as the forest village bathed in soft amber light, Charlisa sat alone on a flat stone near the communal fire pit, tracing the veins of a dried leaf in her hand. The breeze carried the scent of damp wood and wildflowers, and somewhere deeper in the trees, a nightbird called out—a sound both alien and comforting.
Her thoughts drifted—not to this new world, but to the one she had left behind.
"Mama would have loved this place," she whispered to herself.
Her mother, Shalu, had grown up in a quiet village in Maharashtra, India. Shalu was a woman of gardens and patience, her fingers always stained with turmeric or the green of neem leaves. She used to hum old bhajans as she pressed medicinal herbs into poultices, teaching Charlisa that every plant had a voice if you just knew how to listen.
And then there was Grandma Vina—warm and sharp-witted, with silver hair always tied in a jasmine-scented braid. Vina had studied Ayurveda deeply and passed on stories of forest spirits and healing rituals. Charlisa remembered falling asleep to tales of vanadevis—the ancient protectors of groves and sacred trees.
Her father, on the other hand, had been a different kind of explorer. Dr. Sebastian Ruelle, a zoologist from France, who wore dusty boots and carried notebooks filled with strange bird calls and insect sketches. He had a laugh like crackling firewood and eyes always searching the horizon.
They met at a biodiversity conference in Pune. Her mother had been presenting on indigenous herbs, and he had been tracking migratory patterns of hornbills in the Western Ghats. Their union had surprised many, but to Charlisa, it made perfect sense.
She was their bridge—between roots and wings, between Ayurveda and anatomy, between soil and fur.
And now, in this beast world, among tribes who knew both instinct and intuition, it felt like her strange inheritance had found its home.
Charlisa looked up at the moon rising above the tree line. "You gave me everything I'd need," she said softly, imagining Shalu's calm nod and Sebastian's proud smile. "And I promise, I'll use it well here."
She closed her eyes and pressed the leaf to her heart.
She was not lost. She was planted anew.