The forest was too quiet.
Kaelin noticed it the moment she crossed the line of stones that marked the farthest edge her mother allowed. The woods were never silent. Usually birds argued overhead, insects hummed in the grass, and somewhere deeper in the trees a deer snapped a twig.
But today everything was still.
Like the forest knew secrets it couldn’t tell.
Kaelin shifted her grip on her bow and glanced up through the pines.
“Relax,” she muttered. “You’ve hunted here your whole life.”
Still, the strange feeling lingered.
She stepped over a fallen branch, her boots sinking into moss and pine needles. Damp earth and cedar scented the air.
The cottage wasn’t far behind her. Even without looking, Kaelin could picture it—tucked between old trees, smoke curling from the chimney, Zara sitting by the window with a sewing needle clamped between her teeth.
Kaelin smiled.
Zara hated hunting.
She liked quiet things: sewing, drawing, and the old books Mama kept on dusty shelves.
Kaelin preferred movement. Adventure. The sense that something exciting waited just beyond the next hill.
Mama never agreed.
Never cross the boundary.
Mama had said it for as long as Kaelin could remember.
The stones marking the edge were old, scattered among the trees. Kaelin had seen them a thousand times. But Mama never explained what the boundary was—only that it protected them.
Protected them from what?
Kaelin shoved the thought aside when a flicker of movement caught her eye.
A rabbit darted through the ferns.
The first rabbit already hung from her belt, wrapped in the game cloth. Mama would say one was enough.
Kaelin disagreed.
A second rabbit.
She grinned.
“Oh no you don’t.”
The rabbit bolted.
Kaelin took off after it without hesitation, pushing through low branches and leaping over fallen logs.
“Hey—get back here!”
The rabbit zigzagged through the trees, fast and unpredictable.
Kaelin followed, ducking, turning, barely thinking—just reacting.
It darted through a narrow break in the brush.
Kaelin shoved through after it—
And burst into a clearing.
She skidded to a stop.
The rabbit was gone.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered, hands on her knees as she caught her breath.
Then she straightened.
Something felt… off.
The forest was quieter here.
Too quiet.
Her grip tightened slightly on her bow.
“Okay… that’s new.”
She turned slowly.
And then she saw it.
A massive tree stood in the center of the clearing, its trunk wide as five people linking hands. Its bark twisted upward like ancient stone.
But that wasn’t what made her freeze.
Carved into the bark were two dragons, their bodies intertwined in a perfect circle. Their scales were pale, with teal markings along their snouts and horns. Flame-shaped patterns spread across their chests.
Above them hung a crescent moon.
Kaelin stepped closer.
“What the heck is that?” she whispered.
The words sounded too loud in the clearing.
She should have turned back.
She knew that.
Every sensible part of her knew that.
But something about the carving pulled at her.
Not strong.
Not forceful.
Just… there.
Like recognition.
Like it had been waiting for her hand.
The carving looked ancient—yet the lines were sharp, as if the wood itself remembered the shape.
The air around the tree hummed.
Like something slept beneath the bark.
Kaelin hesitated.
“Mama would say touching carvings in the woods is a terrible idea.”
She reached out anyway.
Her fingers brushed the carving.
Light exploded.
Silver energy raced along the dragons’ bodies, blazing through the carved lines.
The forest vanished.
Kaelin stood beneath an endless night sky. Moonlight poured across a wide stone floor. Two girls—twins—stood in the light, holding a sphere of pulsing energy. Behind them the same dragon symbol blazed across a towering wall.
They turned.
For an instant, Kaelin was sure they saw her.
The vision shattered.
Kaelin stumbled back, gasping.
The tree stood silent. The carving dark.
The forest waiting.
But the warmth in her palm remained.
Something old had opened its eyes.
And somehow…
It knew her.
Kaelin grabbed the rabbit hanging from her belt and slung her bow over her shoulder.
She had questions for Mama.
And for the first time, she suspected Mama might not want to answer.
4/22/2026
The Words That Got to Me
A really nice opening. “The forest was too quiet.” That, in a simple and direct way gives us a feeling of unease. “Birds usually argued overhead, insects hummed in the grass…” What a great line, full of understated personality. Your writing is at its best when it is sensory and visual, letting me immerse myself in the world you are creating for me to enjoy.“Her boots sank into moss and pine needles. Damp earth and cedar scented the air.” The hunting scene works well; it allows us to feel her discipline. The tree brings one of the strongest sections; It is clear, visual, and appropriately mythic without becoming cluttered. “A massive tree stood in the center…” “Carved into the bark were two dragons…”
Suggestions / Possible Tweaks
Nothing specific is wrong, but some phrases lean into more typical generic fantasy language. “Like the forest was holding its breath.” “Heavy.” “Something ancient had awakened.” Are all effective, but well-worn. You don’t need to remove them entirely, but in a novel, be careful to only use such things sparingly. minor technical note Title: “The Boundry” should be “The Boundary”
You have given us a strong and polished opening to this book. You show a keen awareness of the genre and do a good job in developing the world setting. The atmosphere is consistent and the MC's believable. Take care as you go on not to slip into too much familiar fantasy cliche and lean into your strength in vivid and believable visualisation. Trust your readers and open up the curtains in their minds eye. Let them continue to see what you see and feel as you pen words on the page.