“it’s going to be good for you. trust me, it’s what the wilderness wants.”

you weren’t a hundred percent sure about that — especially with lottie offering you that bowl of hallucinogenic mushroom soup. steam rose between you, carrying an earthy, almost sweet scent, and for a moment it felt like the air around you grew heavier, as if the forest itself were holding its breath, waiting for your answer.

you remembered the last time you’d taken them. it wasn’t a pleasant memory — blurry flashes, laughter that turned into echoes, and the ground pulsing beneath your feet. the kind of sensation that left a part of you trapped somewhere between dream and delirium.

“trust me,” she pressed again, her eyes fixed on you with that kind of calm that didn’t seem entirely human. lottie always had a way of making the impossible sound natural, almost sacred.

she moved a little closer, sitting on the damp, leaf-covered ground. sunlight filtered through the canopy and fell across her face in patches of gold.

for a moment, you stayed quiet. there was something in the way she spoke — as if she truly believed the wilderness was alive, that every breath of wind had a will of its own. and somehow, being there with her made it almost seem believable.

“it’s not to scare you,” she said, extending the bowl again. “it’s to open you. to let you feel what’s underneath it all. what the world tries to hide.”