Chapter Nine

The Unmarked, Book One

Oct 31, 2025

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Dawn

The smile on Wolfe’s face widened, and he leaned forward, rubbing his hands enthusiastically over the fire. “The story I’m about to tell you is called: The Garden. The first time I heard it was in Evenov. It’s one of my favorites”.

Dawn’s heart seized at the sound of Evenov. But she didn’t let it show. She settled herself comfortably as Wolfe began to tell his tale.

“When the girl had reached the appointed age” he began, “she was taken from her master’s home and put to work in his garden.

The garden was a place of absolute beauty. Flowers of bursting colors erupted from the soil and trees like towers thrust out of the ground. The grass was green and soft like silk. When the girl had walked through the golden gates for the first time, her lungs were filled with deliciously sweet air and her ears with the soft lullaby sung by the breeze that blew through the foliage. The garden was a place of peace and tranquility. It was a place that only the girl could care for.”

Dawn closed her eyes and allowed herself to imagine the place Wolfe was describing so passionately.

Wolfe continued. “Her patience, gentleness, love and compassion towards the garden was greatly admired by the servants of the master’s home. They knew he had done well in choosing her to tend for his garden. There was no one who could do the job as passionately as she.

When she was not working, the girl would sit and write letters to her master. She would write to him everything that was on her heart and he would write back. She had never actually seen her master, but she knew him and he knew her.

There came a time in the girl’s life when the rain had ceased and the wells dried up. The garden was thirsty and slowly began to dry up. Not knowing what else to do, the girl wrote a letter to her master and asked for help. She waited a few days but her patience was quickly waning. It still hadn’t rained, and the master had never responded to her letter. The girl began to be very worried; the garden was dying and she did not know what to do. While she was thinking about a solution, a man came and stood at the entrance of the Garden.

‘Hello?’ the girl said questioningly when she noticed the man. She did not know who he was.

‘Good day’ he said enthusiastically. ‘I was walking by and I saw that you were distressed. What worries you?’

The girl sighed heavily. ‘There is a horrible drought. My master’s garden is dying and I do not know what to do’.

The man gave her a compassionate smile. ‘Well then, it so happens to be that I am a gardener.’

The girl frowned. The man did not look like a gardener, he did not wear the clothes nor carry the tools. Besides, she needed water, even if he was an actual gardener, there was nothing he could do.

‘I appreciate your offer” she said to the man, ‘but I do not need your help’.

‘Are you certain?’ he asked.

‘Positive’ she said stiffly. ‘Now please, let me be.’

The man said nothing more. He bowed his head politely and walked away.

After a while, the girl’s attention was drawn to a band of people laughing and singing carelessly. They were pulling a wagon filled with glass bottles. The girl grew curious as to what they contained. She left the garden and walked out into the road towards the people. They halted when they saw her.

‘Good day’ she said to them. ‘Would you mind me asking what is in your wagon?’

A young man snatched a bottle from the cart and raised it to the sky. ‘The only thing that will quench our thirst in this dreadful drought!’ he shouted enthusiastically. The girl’s gaze followed the bottle the young man swayed in the air.

‘The only thing that could quench our thirst’ she thought to herself. A spark of hope ignited in her heart.

‘Please’ she pleaded, ‘would it be too much to ask for just one bottle?’

The young man put his arm around her and handed it to her. ‘Not at all, anything to help out a friend.’

The girl was filled with delight. She thanked them many times and then ran off to her garden. She opened up the bottle and poured the juice over her flowers.

The next day, the girl woke in absolute astonishment. The flowers that, just the day before, were shriveled and dying, had straightened and grown. The girl looked to the ground where the bottle lay. Whatever the juice was, it had saved the garden. She needed more. To her delight, the band of people walked past the garden again. She went to them and asked for another bottle. They gave her two. ‘Anything for a friend!’ The young man said.

Soon it became a regular occurrence. The band of people would walk by the garden, the girl would ask them for a bottle, they would give her one, and she would go back to the garden, pour the juices over the flowers and wake up to a beautiful and healthy garden the next morning.

Though one day, something had changed. When the girl went to the people and asked for a bottle, they refused.

‘We will not give you anything until you pay for what you have taken from us!’ They said.”

At this, Dawn opened her eyes and raised a brow, but Wolfe was not looking at her. Instead, he stared straight into the fire, as if he could see the events playing out in the flames right before his eyes.

“‘What!’ the girl exclaimed, shocked. ‘You did not say I had to pay! You gave me the bottles freely!’

‘Pay for what you have taken!’ they said.

‘I thought we were friends!’ she retorted.

The young man grabbed her by the writ, his grip so tight that it hurt. ‘Give us the money girl!’ he growled.

The G=girl’s voice caught in her throat. ‘I can’t, I have no money.’

The group burst in a chorus of bitter laughter.

‘You mean to say that your master does not pay you for your work?’ the young man asked mockingly.

The girl bowed and shook her head.

His humor suddenly vanished. ‘You will pay the price, girl.’

The young man shoved the girl to the ground and the group marched straight into the garden. It took a moment for herto come out of her shock and go after them. When she ran through the golden gates, her breath caught in her throat. Flames engulfed the trees of the garden.

‘What have you done!’ the girl cried out.

The young man walked up to her and bitterly whispered in her ear, ‘your debt has been paid’.

The group who the girl had come to believe were her friends, walked away and she was left alone, helpless, in the midst of giant, burning torches”.

The flames of the fire reflected in Wolfe’s eyes and made them burn.

“Once the flames had died” Wolfe continued in a quiet tone filled with a hint of sadness, “the girl slumped onto the ground. The smoke stung her eyes and burned her throat. Through teary eyes and fits of coughing, the girl pulled out a paper and began writing to her master. She told him everything that had happened and that she needed help. The master never wrote back.

The girl, her hands over her face, sobbed as a feeling of wretchedness overcame her heart.

‘Hello?’ spoke a familiar voice. The girl whipped her head around. It was the gardener.

‘Why are you here?’ The girl demanded. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and stood up straight.

‘I see that your Garden has gone through a great deal of suffering’ he said.

‘What does it concern you?’ the girl asked as pride began swelling up inside of her.

‘I want to help care for your Garden’ the gardener responded.

The girl felt insulted. It seemed that he thought she could not do her job adequately. ‘I did not ask for your help’ she said bitterly.

‘You did not have to ask for me to see that you needed it.’

The girl suddenly burned with anger. ‘He thinks that I am a helpless fool!’ She thought to herself.

‘I am perfectly capable of taking care of this garden on my own’ she stated coldly.

‘Are you certain?’ he pressed.

‘Positive. Now leave’ she responded coldly.

The gardener said nothing more. He looked at her with sorrowful eyes and then walked away. The girl watched him leave with flames of pride burning in her heart. But when she turned her gaze back to the torched garden, those flames quickly went out.

The sound of purring caught the Girl’s attention. It came from the thorn bushes. Slowly, the girl made her way towards the sound. When she was inches from the bushes, a black shape suddenly jumped out of the leaves. The girl squealed and fell backwards. It was a cat.

The animal’s black pelt shone under the sunlight. It walked gracefully towards the girl and pressed its body against her arm as it purred. The girl looked into his eyes. They were like green gemstones. The girl ran her hand along his back. His fur was soft like silk.”

Here Wolfe’s eyes suddenly left the fire and settled on Dawn.

“He was beautiful” Wolfe said with his charming smile.

Dawn frowned and looked away.

“The girl knew very well that animals were not allowed into the garden” Wolfe’s voice continue, “but it was so nice to have a companion. The girl promised herself that she would send the cat away first thing in the morning. However, when morning came, she could not get herself to do so.”

Before Dawn knew it, Wolfe had quietly made his way over to her and was sitting next to her, his arm brushing hers. “The cat kept her company” he said playfully, “and distracted her from the tortured garden.”

Dawn didn’t know what to do with Wolfe’s closeness.

'“Every day” Wolfe continued, “the cat played games with the girl and at night he slept by her side. There were moments when the Cat would sit on her lap and listen to her talk. When she spoke of delightful things he would purr and meow joyfully. When she spoke of sad things he would nestle up against her and let her cry.” At this point Wolfe rested his head on Dawn’s shoulder.

“It felt so wonderful to know that someone was there to listen. After a few weeks spent with the cat, the girl could not come to understand why animals were forbidden in the Garden”.

Before Dawn could decide how she felt about Wolfe being that close to her, he suddenly straightened.

“However!” He exclaimed. “One morning, a terrible stench woke the girl from her sleep. It was a sour smell that filled the entire place. The Girl rose and stretched her muscles” at this part Wolfe did the same.

“She looked around” he said, turning his head left and right. “Something wrong. The Cat was not to be seen. The Girl called out for him but he did not come as he usually did. She searched for him in all the bushes and all the trees, but he was nowhere to be found.

As she made her way deeper into the Garden” here Wolfe walked away from Dawn and made his way back to his spot across the fire “in search for the Cat, the terrible stench became stronger and stronger. She followed it until she stood in front of a flower bed. The once pink roses had been dug up and were shriveled and brown. The girl could not bear to be around it without covering her mouth and nose with the sleeve of her dress. It smelled of urine. The girl wondered what foul creature could have done this to the flowers. And then she almost laughed at herself for being so ignorant. It was the Cat. He was the one who had poisoned her flowers.

Tears pooled in the girl’s eyes. Sickness came over her. She was not sure whether it was from the stench or from the pain she felt in her heart. It did not matter. Nothing mattered. The Cat was gone. He had left her and destroyed her roses.

The girl felt her heart shrink inside her chest. She did not know what else to do except write to her master. The girl lay down in the grass and stared out through the golden gates and into the street. With the burned trees, the poisoned flowers and the absence of water, there was nothing she could do except wait.

The girl eventually removed the spoiled roses from the garden, but even though, the stench remained. The girl wept bitterly. She wept because she had been betrayed by her friends. She wept because the Cat whom she loved had left her. She wept because her master was silent. And she wept because she failed at doing what she had been called to do.” What seemed to be guilt flashed across Wolfe’s eyes, and his voice came out slightly strained.

“The gardener, who had been in the area, saw her crying. He ran over to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘There is no need to cry’ he said.

The girl turned her tear-streaked face towards him. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her nose was pink and running. She looked tired. It was not the same radiant girl the gardener had seen a few weeks ago.

‘What do you know, Gardener?’ She said bitterly.

‘I know.’ He simply responded.

‘Then you must know that I did not deserve this’ she said brokenly, ‘you know that I did everything I could to care for this garden and yet it still crumbled through my fingers. You know that I had no control over what has happened.’

“Is that so?” the Gardener said. His gentle tone was gone.

The Girl looked at him, shocked by his sudden change of attitude. “Excuse me?”

“You say you had no control over the suffering of this Garden. But are you not the one who took the bottles from the strangers? Are you not the one who let the Cat into the garden? Are you not the one who turned me away twice when I offered to help?”

The girl’s mouth dropped open but she was too angry to say anything.

‘How dare he speak to me that way? He has no right!’ she thought.

The gardener stared at her. He did not have the air of an accuser, rather one of a father lovingly disciplining his child. But The girl was still enraged.

“Get out” the girl managed to utter in a tone that came out as a high-pitched whisper. She pointed to the golden gates.

“Please. Let me help you.” he said. But the girl did not say anything. She was frozen with anger.

Suddenly the sun was obscured by dark clouds. A cold wind began to blow.

‘There will be a severe storm” the gardener said, “maybe you should go into the house.’

The girl did not move. ‘Very well’ he said, and then he himself went to the house. One of the house maids opened the door for the gardener. She greeted him with warmth and joy as if she had known him for a long time. The gardener looked back to the girl and waited for her to come. But then he closed the door when she did not.

Cold drops of water here and there splashed against the girl’s skin until she was eventually drenched and chilled to the bone. She looked at the warm glow of the candles shining through the window of the Master’s house. She longed to go inside and partake in the laughter she heard coming from within. But it seemed too late to request entry without feeling humiliated because of her stubbornness.

The wind became so strong that it threatened to sweep her away. Roaring thunder shook the ground beneath her feet. The girl fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around a slim tree so she would not be blown away. Branches and dust pinched her skin as they flew past her. The girl slammed her eyes shut and hid her face in her arms. Her hair and dress flapped against her. The girl stayed that way until the storm died. When she lifted her gaze, it was morning.

The faint light of the sun shone through the drifting clouds. The girl tried to stand but then fell to her knees when she saw what had happened. What had remained of her master’s garden after the drought and the fire was now gone. The grass was now nothing but dirt. The torched trees lay on their sides; their roots ripped out of the earth.

The girl had no desire to write a letter to her master. She only wept and cursed Him for forsaking her.

Once the girl had no more strength left to cry, she turned her teary gaze to the street. The gardener stood across the road. He did not say anything, but she knew that he wanted to help her. She so desperately wanted to call out to him, but she did not. There was not a hint of life to be found in the graveyard that was once a beautiful garden. Even if he would be the greatest gardener of all, she had convinced herself that nothing could be done.

The girl shook her head to the Gardener, but he stayed. His face was filled with compassion.

Tears pooled in her eyes. ‘You cannot help me’ she whispered. ‘It is hopeless’.

But The Gardener still stood there, so she turned her back to him.

After a long time, the girl glanced back toward the gates, and began to sob when she saw that the gardener had gone.

Then she noticed a middle-aged man walking from the master’s home toward the garden. He was smiling.

He looked quite familiar to the girl, though she knew she had never seen him before.

The girl stood up, rubbed tears from her eyes, and brushed dirt off her dress. She kept staring at the man. Curiosity replaced anguish.

‘Who is this man?’, she wondered.

Though when she saw the look of devastation form on his face as he walked through the gates, she knew. It was her master.

The master’s gaze shifted from the white trampled rose at his feet and fell on her. She looked away.

‘Daughter’ the man said in a strained voice. ‘What have you done?’

The girl did not realize how filthy she was until now. Her dress and her skin were stained with mud. The fabric of her gown was ripped. Leaves were caught in her tangled hair. Dirt crusted under her nails.

‘I did what you asked of me’ she answered, though she did not believe what she was saying.

‘Then why is my garden destroyed?’ he demanded.

‘I did not mean for it to be destroyed. When trouble came, I turned to you. I wrote you letters, I asked for help, but you sent me nothing in return!’

‘Oh how you’ve allowed yourself to be blinded!’ he cried out as he fell to his knees. The master looked at his dead, shriveled garden and then at his servant, who was also dead. His heart was filled with sorrow and grief. Then, in barely a whisper, the Master said, “I sent you my Son, but you did not let him help you.’

There was a long moment of silence as Wolfe poked the fire with a stick. That’s when Dawn realized the story was over. She blinked at him with wide eyes. “She dies? Really? That’s it?”

Wolfe leaned back on his elbows, “yeah”.

“But why?”

Wolfe gazed up at the sky. “That’s the fun part about stories, you get to figure out the meaning behind them”.

“What if I’m wrong?”

“You won’t be wrong. Storytellers don’t make the meaning obvious because they want their listeners to think. The same story will mean different things to different people. That’s what makes them fascinating”. He paused for a moment. “You can’t always have someone tell you what to believe in. You need to decide that for yourself”.

Dawn and Wolfe sat in silence for a while. She let the fire warm the chill in her bones. The story was a nice distraction, but it was difficult to keep ignoring the fact that they were sitting amid the Raylesswood. Her back began to hurt, so she went to sit against a tree trunk.

The governor would have certainly sent you off on some death mission into the Raylesswood.

What if Wolfe was conspiring with the Governor? What if River’s father had given Wolfe the box and the keys to her cell to gain her trust, and the plan was to bring Dawn into the Woods and leave her behind the moment she fell asleep. But her theory had flaws. Why would the Governor trust a young Guardian from another region with such valuable information? And why would Wolfe openly tell her that the Governor would send her out into the Rayless Woods? Most perplexing of all, why would Wolfe agree to go into the Woods?

She watched him fashion his piece of wood. He had appeared in her life out of the blue, he did not eat nor drink, he lived as if he did not have a care in the world, but he was also extremely secretive about his life, and most strange of all, he did not fear whatever lurked in these wretched woods.

Dawn’s eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, but she promised herself she wouldn’t sleep.

Not here.

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