The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 72: Never Truly Alone

Chapter 72: Never Truly Alone

I heard the hoofbeats long before I saw the rider.

They were soft at first—steady, well-controlled. Whoever it was knew how to ride and knew how to follow. I didn’t look back. Not immediately. I kept my gaze on the road ahead, letting the wind comb through the ends of my braid, letting the rising sun warm the path stretched before me.

Only when the second set of hoofbeats matched pace with my own did I turn.

Shi Yaozu rode beside me, his dark cloak flaring just enough to hint at the weapons hidden beneath. His expression was unreadable, as usual. But his eyes—the ones that used to be cold as steel—carried something else now. Awareness. Amusement.

I arched a brow. "Did he send you?"

"Not in so many words," he replied, his voice silk-wrapped iron. "But the Crown Prince did say... I should stay by your side. No matter what."

A slow smile crept across my face. "So, you’re my shadow again."

"If you want to call it that."

"I don’t mind company," I said, nudging my horse into a lope. He kept pace without effort. "Especially yours."

"That’s dangerous praise, coming from you."

"I meant it. And besides," I added, glancing at him from the corner of my eye, "you should hope we run into some trouble on the road. That way, you can keep up with your practice."

Shi Yaozu actually smiled at that—small and rare, like moonlight catching the edge of a blade.

We rode in silence for a while. The kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled. Trees passed us like sentries. The capital disappeared behind a low rise, swallowed by distance and dust. Birds chirped high in the branches. The wind smelled like summer—dry and restless.

It wasn’t long before the road shifted.

It began with a sound.

Wheels creaking. Voices murmuring. A child crying.

Then we saw them.

Refugees.

The first wave.

Dozens of them, maybe more. Men carrying sacks. Women clutching children. Carts overloaded with grain, pots, rope, cloth—whatever they could grab before running. Some limped. Some bled. A few stared at nothing at all.

I slowed my horse.

They parted before us, too weary to speak. Too hollow to care.

One man looked up—face bruised, lip split—and his eyes widened when he saw me.

He didn’t bow.

He simply dropped to his knees in the dirt and pressed his forehead against the ground, trembling as if I were some sort of monster.

Behind him, more followed.

I didn’t move.

I didn’t dismount.

"Which town are you from?" I asked, my voice even. I wondered if this was something that the Crown Prince also accounted for. Was he upset that I would rather go fight than set up a porridge station like the other noble ladies would?

"Xueshan," the man whispered, throat raw. "They came... without warning. First Chixia, then Yelan. They—" He stopped, voice cracking. "They said this land belonged to them now. That Daiyu had abandoned us."

A child behind him whimpered, clutching a broken doll.

Shi Yaozu said nothing. He didn’t need to. He scanned the group with sharp eyes, counting injuries, watching the treeline, and noting everything.

"Did they say where they were going next?" I asked.

The man shook his head before hesitating for a moment. "They didn’t say anything, but I hid in the woods and overheard them. They were planning to go north. Toward Baishui. They plan to take all the trade routes, so by the time the Capital understands what is going on, all trade will stop, and they will be much more... compliant."

I nodded once, then dismounted. The silence that followed was immediate. Even the birds seemed to quiet down.

I walked through the crowd, looking at the people, gauging just how bad it was.

There were too many wounds and far too few supplies.

I pulled a flask from my bag and handed it to a girl with blistered lips. "Just a sip. Don’t drink it all at once. You’ll make yourself sick." She looked to her mother, who gave a trembling nod. Then she drank.

Taking the flask back, I offered it to the mother. When she shook her head, I didn’t bother to insist. Instead, I moved on.

Further in were two boys—twins, maybe nine—who watched me with suspicion. Smart eyes. Dirty hands. One clutched a slingshot. I knelt and tied a cloth around a cut on the taller one’s arm. "Use vinegar next time," I said. "Or try to find some alcohol. It will clean the wound."

He stared at me. "We didn’t have time to grab any," he grunted, angry... like it was my fault that they didn’t have time.

"Then make time next time," I replied, and stood. "Or have a bag prepared with your necessities just in case you find yourself in a similar situation."

When I returned to my horse, Shi Yaozu was already speaking to a man near the front—someone with a soldier’s shoulders, despite the worn robe.

"I’ll mark the way north," he was saying. "Take the smaller trail behind the riverbed. There’s a bend where the old trees grow too thick for horses—that’s where you camp. No fires. Move by dusk."

The man nodded, grateful. "And you?"

"We’ll handle the rest," I said.

They watched us ride on.

We didn’t speak again until we reached the edge of the valley, and the trees swallowed the sound of the refugees behind us.

"Why didn’t you stop me?" I asked Shi Yaozu, cocking my head to the side. I really thought he would have told me to stay on my horse, that it wasn’t safe to wander through the refugees like that.

He didn’t answer right away.

"I could have," he said eventually. "But I don’t think I would have succeeded."

"You could have at least tried," I pouted slightly. Every woman, no matter how dangerous, always wanted to be protected... even if they didn’t need it.

He looked over. "And if I did? Would you still have smiled at me the way you did back there?"

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. If he had been worried about me... as more than a friend, the smile on my face would have had a much different meaning. I wonder if he knew that.

The sun rose higher, casting long shadows through the trees. Dust clung to the corners of my vision. My horse’s hooves crunched dry leaves and stone. Somewhere up ahead, war waited—loud and burning and cruel.

But I didn’t feel fear.

Not with him beside me.

"Yaozu?" I asked.

"Yes?"

"If you had to choose," I said, "between loyalty to the Empire and loyalty to me... which would you pick?"

He looked at me for a long time. "That’s not a fair question."

"No. It’s not."

He didn’t answer right away. Then, quietly:

"I don’t know. And that annoys me."

I smiled at that response. "Good," I said. "Because Pride is awake and cranky that someone might hurt one of hers. By the time I get back, I plan on setting the world on fire and roasting marshmallows in the flames."

To his credit, he only looked over at me, a confused look on his face. "What are marshmallows?"