Blogtober 2025, Day 19: Mistaken
Lucy's Path: Chapter Nineteen
Morning crept in without warmth. Mist clung low to the
ground, coiling around Sarah’s ankles as she moved through the clearing. The
others hadn’t woken yet—Mark slumped against a fallen log, Tyler curled beneath
his jacket, trembling in his sleep.
The ribbons were everywhere now. They hung from branches,
tangled in roots, scattered across the ground like shed skins. Sarah crouched
and began gathering them, one by one, just to give her hands something to do.
Some were frayed; others looked new, colors bright against the gray dirt.
She noticed the first initials almost by accident—L.H.
stitched in thread so faint she nearly missed it. Lucy Hargrove. Her throat
tightened. She reached for another: M.R., T.B., E.H.
Her pulse jumped. Emily Hargrove.
The woods stirred, leaves rattling though there was no wind.
Somewhere behind her, something small laughed.
“Sarah?” Mark’s voice was groggy. “What are you doing?”
She held up the ribbons. “It keeps a ledger. Names.
Offerings.” Her voice shook. “It doesn’t just take people—it remembers them.”
Tyler sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Why would it need to
remember?”
Sarah looked toward the stone child, its hollow eyes
glinting in the mist. “Because forgetting would make it merciful,” she said
softly. “And mercy isn’t what it wants.”
She let the ribbons fall, her hands trembling. “I think we
were mistaken about what it’s collecting,” she whispered. “It’s not
trophies—it’s debts. And it doesn’t forget its enemies.”
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