A/N: Ficlet for the indie game The Path. Written for my friend xeliara/Miranda.

Disclaimer: Does not belong to me.


She could smell the water in the air. She could smell the mud and the earth; the scent filled her nostrils with a fervor like not other. The dampness of the ground soaked through her stockings and chilled her feet. A light fog swirled around her.

Rose felt more at home beside the lake than she had anywhere else, including her own home. Sometimes she felt as if she didn't belong there. She didn't like the city, with its loud noise and concrete. She wanted the tranquility of nature around her.

At only eleven years old, Rose knew she was not meant for the world of steel and coldness.

I belong here, she though as she gazed at the lake. I belong here with the animals and flowers and trees. Maybe I am a tree. She knelt down and grabbed a fistful of soil. I am a tree. My feet are my roots, my fingers are my branches.

It was then she noticed the boat. It was a small, Rose-sized boat. The paint on it was old and chipped. It floated on the water and despite the breeze, it did not move. Rose felt compelled to go to it. So she did.

All was quiet as she stepped into the boat and sat down on the hard seat. The boat began to glide forward silently, but Rose was not afraid.

As the boat went towards the middle of the lake, the fog grew thicker. Rose looked upwards. She couldn't see the sky.

She saw something else, though. She saw someone. She got to her feet and suddenly she was floating up, up towards him, the man bathed in clouds, the man who was beckoning her closer and closer. And then-

all was quiet.