Adventure of Tuiwen 2

Tuiwen hauls herself from the tunnel mouth into cool forest air. Ahead, Rhosgobel glimmers through the trees, but the heartstone in her grip turns ice-cold.

Behind her, boots thud through the roots, steady and closing. The same rhythm answers the stone in her hand, as if the wood itself is listening.

A branch snaps to her left. Between the firs, a hooded hunter steps into view, head turned toward the pulse in her palm.

Tuiwen shifts toward the clear path to Rhosgobel, blade low and ready. The hunter advances from behind, while the lights ahead beckon like a last, fragile promise.

If she breaks away now, she can still warn Radagast before the hunter reaches the hedge.

Tuiwen’s blade flashes once. The hooded hunter jerks back with a sharp cry, dark cloth splitting at the sleeve, and the heartstone’s cold pulse jumps in her palm as if it answers the strike.

He stumbles into the roots, one hand flying to the cut. Tuiwen is already moving, the wound in her shoulder tightening as she turns from him and drives for the Rhosgobel lights.

His shout carries through the firs, and the nearby trees seem to take it in. Ahead, the hedge of Rhosgobel glows steadier, while behind her the hunter pushes himself upright too late to catch her.

The heartstone throbs cold and hard against her fingers, not hiding her at all, but pulling attention toward her like a wound in the dark.

Tuiwen breaks into the open line toward the house, the hunter left in the shadows of the roots. The path to Rhosgobel is before her, and the beacon in her hand keeps pulsing for anyone listening.

Tuiwen keeps running, but the forest gives no mercy. Her shoulder bites with each stride, and the lane narrows until roots snag at her boots.

The heartstone pulses against her palm, cold as river stone. Its glow leaks between her fingers, a clear little signal in the dark.

She reaches the first outer hedge of Rhosgobel and the ground turns slick under fallen leaves. The gate is still ahead, but the effort costs her speed.

Behind her, the hooded hunter does not close the distance, yet his shout lingers in the trees like a thrown net. The woods seem to listen.

Tuiwen lowers her blade a fraction and presses on, breathing hard. She has not lost the heartstone, but it is no longer hidden at all.

The hedge lights of Rhosgobel stand steady before her. Warmth and shelter wait there, if she can reach them before the ache in her arm slows her to a walk.

Tuiwen cuts through the hedge gap in one clean motion, and the warded path of Rhosgobel opens before her. The cold pulse in her palm throws a faint frost-blue sheen over the leaves.

She clears the threshold, and the gate answers at once, its hidden protections stirring with a soft, living hum. The air inside feels warmer, as if the house itself notices her and holds its breath.

Behind her, the woods do not rush forward, but the hunter’s shout dies against the hedge and breaks apart. The trail at her back remains dangerous, yet the boundary now stands between them.

The heartstone gives one sharper beat in her hand, and its light flares through her fingers. Somewhere deeper in the forest, an answering chill seems to stir, as if something far off has noticed the flare.

Inside the hedge, a single figure waits in the lamplight, turned toward her arrival. Radagast is there, and his attention is fixed on the glowing stone before she even takes another step.

Tuiwen steps into the hedge light and places the heartstone into Radagast’s waiting hand. The cold pulse leaves her palm at once, and the chill no longer follows her fingers.

He draws the stone close, and the glow dulls to an ember beneath his thumbs. The warding at the hedge answers with a softer shimmer, as if relieved to hold still.

Radagast glances once toward the dark treeline, then back to her shoulder. His face stays grave, but the house around him feels less like a shelter under siege and more like a home making room for her.