She didn't remember the village. But she spent the rest of that night writing down a story she couldn't explain, about a girl and a tree and a place called Juniper. And somehow, that was enough.
"Who are you?" Serena whispered.
Her grandmother had called it Juniper , a forgotten village swallowed by the woods after the last mill closed. "The juniper remembers," she’d said, before the forgetting took her too. Now Serena, sixteen and restless, decided to test the whisper. serena hill juniper
Juniper handed her a single berry. "Plant this by your door. When it grows, the forgetting will slow. And Serena?" She didn't remember the village
The mason jar in Serena's hand suddenly felt heavy. She understood: she hadn't come to capture anything. She'd come to offer. "Who are you