Chapter 2: Bubblegum and Big Eyes

Rumi’s shoes squished softly in the damp meadow grass as she edged closer to the hulking creature among the trees. Sunlight flickered through the leaves, dappling its thick, mossy fur. The creature’s eyes—enormous, round, and shining—fixed on her with a wild intensity. Its breath rumbled, and a low, uncertain roar vibrated through the air, shaking petals from a nearby wildflower.

Rumi’s heart thudded, but she remembered how it had shrunk back from her before, more curious than cruel. She reached into the pocket of her faded shorts and pulled out her last piece of bubblegum, neon pink and slightly squished from the heat. She unwrapped it with trembling fingers, her gaze never leaving the creature’s.

She popped the gum into her mouth and began to chew, exaggerating each chomp. She puffed her cheeks, letting her lips make a silly, squelchy sound. Then, with all the courage she could muster, Rumi crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue, making herself look as ridiculous as possible.

The creature’s nostrils flared in surprise. Its massive eyelids blinked. Rumi noticed the tips of its ears, mossy and tufted, twitching as if it couldn’t quite decide whether to flee or laugh. Slowly, it took a step back, its clawed feet leaving deep prints in the soft earth. Another rumble escaped its throat, but it sounded less like a roar and more like a confused question.

Rumi grinned, feeling a spark of mischief. "See? I can be scary too!" she called, her voice bouncing off the trees. The creature tilted its head, considering her, uncertainty flickering across its wide face. Rumi blew a tentative bubble. It popped with a sharp snap, startling both of them.

For a heartbeat, the meadow was silent except for the whisper of wind and the low buzz of insects. Rumi’s nerves jangled—was this how adventurers felt in storybooks?—but she stood her ground. She noticed how the creature’s eyes softened, the wildness ebbing just a little, replaced by something like wonder.

"Are you lost?" she asked softly, her tone gentle now. The creature didn’t answer, but its gaze darted past her, toward the shadowy woods. Rumi felt a prickle at the back of her neck. That distant howl echoed again, closer this time, curling around the trunks like a warning.

She glanced back at the creature. It shuffled its feet, uneasy, then looked at Rumi as if asking her what to do next. For the first time, she realized: maybe it was as scared of the howl as she was.

The meadow felt suddenly smaller, the sunlight less certain. Rumi swallowed her fear, determination hardening in her chest. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out—together.”

A branch snapped in the shadows. Both girl and beast turned, breath held, as a pair of glowing eyes flickered at the forest’s edge.