Side Story 1.4: Angeline's POV
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At One Point
Late at night, Gel was awakened from her sleep, her body drenched in sweat. She threw off her blanket and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, taking a moment to steady her breathing before standing.
The wooden floorboards creaked softly beneath her bare feet as she made her way outside. The cool night air caressed her feverish skin, providing immediate relief. She headed straight for the well, drawing up a bucket of cold water and splashing it over her face and neck, washing away the remnants of whatever nightmare had disturbed her rest.
Before returning inside, she paused, suddenly struck by the ethereal beauty of Lonelywood Forest at night. The village, usually bustling with activity during daylight hours, now lay peaceful and serene under the glow of the three moons. Their combined light bathed the landscape in an otherworldly whiteal¹yy radiance, casting long shadows across the ground.
Gel tilted her head skyward, mesmerized by the vast expanse of stars scattered like diamond dust across the inky canvas above. The constellation patterns August had taught them were clearly visible tonight—the Hunter, the Great Bear, and the Winter Maiden.
Her moment of tranquility was interrupted by distant howling. The wolves were out tonight, their mournful cries echoing throughout Lonelywood Forest. They sang to the moons, a haunting chorus that seemed to express both longing and warning. Each howl sent a shiver down Gel's spine, transporting her back to that terrible night when she and her mother had fled through the same woods, the sounds of pursuit close behind them...
She hurried back inside, heart racing. The memory was too vivid, too raw. Once inside, she dove under her blanket, seeking comfort in its familiar weight and warmth. Across the room, Betty and Bren slept soundly, their faces peaceful in repose. Near the door, August's bed lay empty—he must have gone to check the perimeter, always vigilant even at this hour.
Gel envied their apparent peace. How could they sleep so deeply in this world of dangers? Yet she was grateful for it too—this makeshift family had become her anchor.
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Morning Comes
Morning arrived with August's familiar routine. He moved through the small house, gently rousing everyone with a quiet persistence that had become comforting in its predictability. Gel opened her eyes to find him already dressed, a carved wooden bowl of fresh berries set on the table for their breakfast.
"Up and about," he said simply, the corner of his mouth lifting in what passed for a smile.
Though they had voted to forgo the usual morning exercises during the summer heat, August still maintained a strict schedule. They needed to start their days earlier now, making use of the cooler morning hours before the sun climbed too high.
Gel had grown close to Betty over these past months—like the sister she never had. They worked well together, tending the garden plots, maintaining the house, and handling village matters while the boys hunted. Usually, Bren stayed behind with them, but lately, August had begun taking him along, teaching him to move silently through the forest undergrowth.
Just days ago, August had presented Bren with his first hunting dagger and a custom-made wooden spear, its tip fashioned from the tusk of the Big Boar they'd tracked last season. In fact, he'd gifted all of them daggers made from those same tusks—remarkable weapons that Gel couldn't figure out how he'd crafted. They never saw him working on them; the gifts had appeared as if by magic.
August himself had acquired new gear recently—a leather vest with unusual stitching and boots that made no sound when he walked. When questioned about their origin, he'd merely offered that enigmatic half-smile of his and walked away, clearly uncomfortable with their questions.
That was August's way—reserved when uncertain, almost painfully shy about personal matters, yet generous with practical knowledge. He'd taught them how to plant crops in the poor soil, how to preserve food for winter, how to read weather signs. But ask him anything about himself, and he'd retreat behind that wall of awkward silence.
Sometimes Gel wanted to shake him out of his reticence, force him to open up. But she knew better. Despite his slender frame, August possessed surprising strength and speed. If he ever truly wanted to, he could easily overpower all four of them combined.
Not that he ever would. For all his mysteries, August had been their savior. He'd found them—starving, terrified, and hopeless—and brought them to this abandoned village and made them stay. He'd given them shelter, taught them to survive, asked nothing in return. Even after learning it was his birthday last week, he'd brushed off their belated attempts at celebration, seeming almost embarrassed by the attention.
Gel sighed, watching him now as he changed into his hunting gear, movements efficient and practiced. She must have stared too long because he suddenly looked up, catching her gaze.
"Wh-what?" he stammered, fingers fumbling with the straps of his leather bracer. "Why are you staring? Is there something on my face?"
"No, not at all," Gel replied softly. "You guys be careful out there today, okay?"
"Oh," he said, visibly relaxing. "Sure thing." His smile, when genuine like now, transformed his usually solemn face, making him appear younger, almost carefree.
Adorable, Gel thought, then quickly composed herself. Across the room, Betty was watching their exchange with knowing eyes, glancing between them with raised eyebrows.
Betty shook her head slightly, her expression clearly saying: *Get a room, will you?*
Gel could only shrug in response as they all filed out of the house into the fresh morning air, ready to face whatever the day might bring in this dangerous, beautiful place they now called home.