Spirits of the Forest

The fire had raged for days, and we were still sitting at five percent containment.

Being stuck out in backwater country didn’t help—there were no pumps, barely any equipment, and precious little water. The nearest river ran a kilometer behind us; the lake, several kilometers ahead. Worse, the land worked against us. Jagged hills, steep valleys. We were in a low basin, with ridgelines boxing us in on either side. The fire was crawling down toward us, fed by dry wind and dead brush.

By day two, it had cut us off from the lake entirely.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that the fire was alive. It wasn’t smart, precisely, yet how it moved, those abrupt directional changes, its velocity… it felt like it knew something. Like it was hunting, or watching us. A predator tracking its unsuspecting prey from a distance, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

My team was tasked with cutting a fireline. Firefighters use a fireline, or firebreak, as a control technique to slow or stop the wildfire’s spread by removing flammable material, like vegetation, down to the mineral soil. It was slow, backbreaking work. We used axes, shovels, hoes, and McLeod tools to dig and scrape the trench by hand.

We chose a location where the forest gave way to level, grassy ground extending up the slopes of the ridgeline. During the seasonal shift from winter to summer, this section carried water runoff, which meant there was already a partial natural clearing—we just had to finish it.

Thus, presently, we raced the fire.

Over the next several hours, smoke started to spill over the knoll, thin and hazy. The fire was imminent. Another hour, two tops.

I worked along the ridgeline, finishing up the section. Pausing, I sighed and stretched my back. The work was intense, made worse by the heavy equipment I wore—it was hot and exhausting. I grabbed a bottle, squirted some water into my mouth, then wiped my face with a damp cloth. As I lowered it, something caught my eye. I narrowed my gaze, squinting through the haze.

At first, I figured I was seeing things. As I turned back to my task, something flashed in my peripheral vision, drawing my eyes to the treeline.

“Division Bravo, this is Bravo-2. Fireline nearly complete on the eastern ridge. Winds are shifting, and smoke’s moving in. I’m heading into the forest to verify something. Over.”

“Bravo-2, copy. What’s your position? Stay alert. Over.”

“Approximately one hundred meters north of Grid Bravo-1. Over.”

The knoll was divided into three grid sectors—Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie—each broken into five numbered squares, 1 through 5. Bravo was the central zone, where the main fireline was being cut. Alpha lay ahead, closest to the advancing fire. Charlie was behind, closer to camp and the access road.

I advanced slowly across Alpha-1, eyes narrowing as something ahead caught the light. The haze blurred everything ahead, but I could’ve sworn someone was standing among the trees.

A woman.

She wore forest green—blending almost perfectly with the undergrowth. She moved like she belonged there, fluid, effortless. Not running. She danced between the trees, her gaze fixed not on me… but the fire.

I crossed the line, stepping into the forest. The haze thickened almost immediately, curling around me like smoke, muffling sound and blurring the edges of the world. The trees stood wide apart at first—tall, silent sentinels—but the deeper I moved, the closer they seemed to grow, tightening their grip on the space around me.

The undergrowth thickened too, tangling around my boots with every step. Grass gave way to creeping vines, damp moss, and clusters of sharp-edged rocks half-buried in the earth. Twigs snapped underfoot, and thorny branches clawed at my sleeves as if trying to turn me back. The air was heavier here, laced with the scent of wet soil, old bark, and something else—faint, but strange. Almost like… ash.

“Ma’am,” I called out, coughing as I pushed through the branches, my steps careful and deliberate. “Ma’am, we need to leave. It’s not safe.”

She didn’t respond—just kept moving, always ahead. Her hands glided across the bark, slow and deliberate, almost caressing, like she was greeting an old friend. Her steps were fluid, silent, unhurried—barely disturbing the undergrowth beneath her feet. Branches that had clawed at me only moments before now seemed to bend away from her path, parting gently as if in reverence.

She never looked back.

Never spoke.

She moved like a ghost woven from mist and leaf, her presence subtle but undeniable. Each motion was graceful, purposeful, as though she belonged to the forest in a way I couldn’t begin to understand.

And still, I followed—drawn forward by instinct, by training, by the unshakable pull to protect.

Or maybe it was something else entirely.

My focus was so tightly drawn to the woman that I didn’t notice what was happening around me. The radio had gone silent. The world itself had grown unnaturally still. There was no wind, no rustling leaves, no birdsong—just silence. Even the usual sounds of wildlife fleeing the fire were absent.

It was that kind of stillness that came just before the storm.

I finally caught up to her, grabbing her forearm and spinning her around “Lady!” I shouted. “We need to leave—now!”

The world seemed to snap back into focus the moment my hand closed around her arm. The haze had thickened, pressing in on all sides, and I could hear it now—the fire. A low, distant growl, growing louder by the second.

I saw it through the smoke, advancing. Fast. Its movements were erratic, unnatural—like it wasn’t just spreading, but searching. It moved with purpose. Focused. Precise in its intent.

Her eyes went wide—not with anger, but with shock.

She was beautiful. Maybe a meter sixty-six, slim but solid. Jet-black hair framed sharp, forest-green eyes. Her skin was pale, and her clothes seemed to blend into it like they were part of the forest itself.

“You can see me?” she whispered, disbelief.

“Of course I can. Now we need to go,” I said, pulling her by the arm as my free hand clicked the mic.

“Division Bravo, this is Bravo-2. I’ve located a woman in the forest. I’m bringing her back to safety now.

Static crackled through my headset. My line was dead—and had been for several minutes.

And I was deeper into the forest than I thought.

I turned in a slow circle, trying to get my bearings, but nothing looked familiar—just trees and smoke in every direction. I wouldn’t say I was lost… But I couldn’t say I knew how to get back to the fireline either.

The air felt wrong—heavier, like it was pressing in on all sides. It was getting hotter, too, as the fire crept closer. The haze had thickened even more, swirling around me like smoke from a smothered flame. I turned, trying to orient myself—back toward where I’d first seen the fire coming in.

I froze. It was right on top of us.

I didn’t understand how it had moved so fast. Through the haze, I could just make out its path—a jagged zigzag through the brush, followed by a sudden, deliberate line straight toward us. Its leading edges reached out like fingers, latching onto trees as it passed, igniting everything in its path.

There was no crackling. No roar. Just heat and silence—like the flames were stalking, not burning. It was like the fire knew exactly where it was going. And nothing else mattered.

Then something strange happened. The fire seemed to expand. Not outward, but upward in a thin line with heat so intense that I could feel it past the fire protection.

“Shit,” I muttered, blinking at the uncharacteristic movement of the fire. It shifted, and suddenly it struck at me.

No. Not at me. At her.

Instinct kicked in. I threw myself between her and the flames, raising my arm to shield my chest and face. The fire lashed against my protective suit, slamming into me like a living thing. It didn’t move like fire. It struck. Like it had teeth.

Even through the gear, I felt the heat tear into me. So intense, I swore my skin was burning. It pulled back—and I stepped with it, forcing her behind me.

“You don’t understand! My grove is dying. I need to protect it!” the woman cried frantically.

“Lady, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, glancing back at her. “But we need to go now—”

My words caught in my throat. The fire had moved with startling speed—it now encircled us. I didn’t know how, but it had. Its movement was predatory, like a hunter closing in, the trap already sprung, waiting for the perfect moment to finish the kill.

I yanked open my satchel and pulled out the fire shelter.

“This is rated for one body, not two,” I said quickly. “So I need you to get to the ground. Now.”

Her forest-green eyes locked onto mine. Recognition. Understanding. “Why would you—?”

I cut her off, already moving. I motioned her down, then spread the blanket over her.

And once again, I put myself between her and the fire.

The heat pressed in from all sides, a suffocating force that felt less like weather and more like will. The air shimmered, warping the world around us, turning the trees into flickering shadows. I held my ground, every muscle tense, waiting—for the fire to strike again, or perhaps… to pass judgment.

I slid the mask over my face, the plastic sealing tight against my skin. It felt too small, too fragile. The oxygen was thin, burning in my throat with every breath. My lungs screamed. My heartbeat pounded in my ears like a warning drum. The ground beneath me wavered, tilting sideways, unsteady.

Flames licked closer, curling like fingers around the edges of the clearing. The pressure built—heat, smoke, silence. A moment stretched, suspended between now and never.

Then I heard her voice. Faint. Almost not there. Like leaves rustling in a distant canopy. Whispering my name, thanking me.

And then—

Everything went black.

“Johnathan!” barked an older man.

“Johnathan!” shouted a younger voice, early twenties.

“Johnathan!” came a woman’s cry.

I woke to silence. The forest was too quiet. Then the ringing started in my ears.

I blinked once. Twice. The world tilted, then spun. I shut my eyes again, trying to stop the vertigo.

Then—something. A faint, high-pitched chirping. Distant, uneven. It took a moment to recognize it: my PASS device. Normally sharp and piercing, now dulled, like I was hearing it through layers of cotton.

Voices followed. Muffled. Garbled. Urgent.

Yelling, maybe? I couldn’t tell. It was like they were shouting at me from the bottom of a well—or underwater.

Too far. Too faint.

But getting closer.

I blinked again, forcing my eyes open. The world spun—then gradually settled.

A groan slipped out as I steadied myself. The dizziness was fading.

Strangely, I wasn’t in pain.

Above me, through the haze, the sun glowed pale and clouded—distant, muted, almost unreal.

I looked around. The trees were singed, their bark blackened by the heat that had torn through here. Thin trails of smoke curled off them as they cooled.

By my estimate, at least thirty minutes had passed since the fire had encroached on my position.

But the fire hadn’t taken everything. Some of the trees nearest me looked… untouched. Their bark was pale and clean, as if the flames had passed them by on purpose.

I pushed myself upright, slowly.

In the distance, flanking me, I spotted the rescue crew.

I shouted and gave a groggy wave toward them to get their attention.

They rushed toward my position. I pulled off my gloves, then shrugged out of the oxygen tank and stared at it. It should’ve burst—but it hadn’t. And the mask… it was singed, but not melted. The heat I’d felt should’ve destroyed both. It didn’t make sense. I took off the helmet and tossed it aside, then stripped off the fireproof jacket.

I stared at them. They should’ve been burned, damaged beyond recognition. The flames had been intense—I remembered feeling them even through the jacket. My brain was clouded. I couldn’t think clearly. Things were not making sense.

And then a medic bag dropped to my side. I was still groggy, barely able to hear anything as I looked up to the owner. A medic knelt down beside me, his hands already at work. He dug in to grab a stethoscope. He wrapped it around his neck as he took a penlight and flashed it in my eyes.

My pupils contracted, followed the light without being asked as he waved it left to right. The reflex was automatic — my body answering even as my mind stayed somewhere else.

Becca dropped to my left side. I had worked with her for a few seasons now. She was my supervisor—and the worry in her eyes was unmistakable. Daniels dropped to my right side. He was a probie—this was his first wildfire.

“Johnathan,” Becca said. I didn’t respond. She snapped her fingers in front of me.

I only stared at her.

“He’s traumatized,” the medic said, checking my pulse.

“John. Can you hear me?” Becca asked.

Daniels snapped, “What the hell happened?” Becca shot him a look, narrowing her eyes. She looked back to me, her hand pressing on my shoulder gently.

“The woman…” I coughed, looking around. I tried to stand.

“Whoa, whoa. Stay seated until I’ve checked you over,” the medic ordered, pressing me down. “Pulse one-thirty-two, thready. Blood pressure eighty-eight over fifty-six. We need to get him back to the tent.”

I ignored him and pushed myself upright, scanning the clearing. The vertigo crept back, and I braced my hands on my knees. “Where is the woman?” I asked, still dazed.

“What woman?” Becca pressed.

“I called it in,” I insisted. “There was a woman—meter sixty-six, slim but solid. Jet-black hair, sharp forest-green eyes. She was right here.” I pointed to the fire shelter. “I… I put it over her.”

Daniels’ hand settled heavy on my shoulder. “John, there was no call from you. You’ve been missing for hours.”

Becca’s voice wavered. “You’re the only one we’ve found so far.” She paused, then frowned. “Wait—you weren’t in the fire shelter?”

My head pounded. The memories twisted, blurred. To them, I must have sounded dazed, delirious. CO poisoning. Heat stress. But I knew what I’d seen.

“Yes… yes, I… I put it over her.” I pointed to the blanket.

That’s when things stopped making sense—when strange became impossible.

I noticed it first in the ground: a ring, about a meter across, surrounding me. How did I know? Because everything outside the circle was charred black, burned to ash. Everything inside was untouched. That explained the trees I’d seen.

Then I noticed the blanket—it had been moved, lying a few feet from where I’d laid it. And where it had been was nothing but scorched earth—an indentation burned deep into the otherwise untouched soil.

“Do you see that?” I asked, my voice shaking as I pointed at the circle, then at the blackened scar. “That… that doesn’t make any sense. How—how the fuck am I alive?”

“He’s delirious. We need to get him to the medical station,” the medic pressed.

“I’m not delirious. I’m not. Look around—the clues are right here!” My eyes darted wildly, searching their faces.

“Take it easy, John. Let’s get you to the tent and checked out, okay?” Becca said. It wasn’t casual, there was insistence behind that voice.

I looked at Becca and nodded. “O… okay. Let’s go.” My voice shook as I staggered to get upright and followed them.

But as we walked, I couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder.

It wasn’t a dream.

…Or was it?