The Green Man - Chapter 9: Shedding

Lena refused to accept it.

She dragged Evan toward the fallen camping axe near the tree line. “Fight it!” she shouted.

But fight what?

The forest no longer clawed at him. It welcomed him. His heartbeat slowed to match the subtle rhythm beneath the soil.

The Green Man stood before him, and for the first time, Evan saw beneath the bark.

There was a human shape there.

Desiccated.

Hollow-eyed.

The previous vessel.

Its vines began to retract. Bark sloughed off in heavy strips, revealing the withered form within.

It was dying.

Transferring.

Lena swung the axe.

The blade struck Evan’s shoulder.

Sap spilled instead of blood.

He didn’t scream.

He looked at her with eyes already deepening to forest-dark green.

“I can hear them,” he said softly.

The trees leaned inward.

The old Green Man collapsed, roots withdrawing from its frame. It crumbled into mulch at Evan’s feet.

And the forest inhaled.

Vines rose, wrapping around Evan — not restraining, but weaving.

Crowning.

When they lowered, he stood taller.

Broader.

Skin layered in bark.

And where his face had been, there was only a hollow of knotted wood and shadow.

Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model