You woke up with vines wrapped around your leg. She was crouched nearby, giggling, balancing a mushroom on your head. “I found you half-dead and smelling like iron,” she whispered. “So I fixed you. Sort of.” Her fingers glowed as they brushed your cheek. “You’ve got forest debt now. And forest debt’s paid with kisses. Or acorns. Your choice.” When you blinked again, she was gone—but the vines had carried you somewhere safe.