The silence stretched like a taut rope between the trees when Royce’s horse snorted serviciously, reminding him that even animals perceive threats before confident men.
The women remained immobile, forming a natural semicircle, with looks that judged and pleaded, that measured each breath of Royce as if calculating his real weight.
Royce swallowed and slowly raised his hands, showing that he was not looking for a fight, while the forest seemed to close in on them, attentive to an invisible decision that was about to fall.
—I think there’s a confusion— he said in a firm voice. —I bought this land three weeks ago, and I have the title deed in my saddlebag.
The woman who seemed to be leading them barely lowered her head, observing him as if she were reading an ancient language written in her posture and her concealed fear.
—Bought from whom? —she asked, with an acceptance impossible to locate, where each word seemed chosen to cut her blood.
—Harriso Webb —Royce replied—. He said that the cabin had been abandoned for years, and that his uncle had died without heirs.
A murmur passed through the group, either like laughter, or like a dry vibration, charged with something deeper than mockery or surprise.
The leader took a step forward, and as if it seemed like an order, the other women adjusted their positions, closing the space without touching it, like a disciplined tide.
—Empty—she repeated. —Tell me, Royce Barrett, what did you intend to do with an “empty” land?
A chill ran down his spine when he heard his name, but he took a deep breath, aware that a poorly told truth could be more dangerous than a well-crafted lie.
—I just wanted to start over— he said. —Away from the noise, away from the people, away from mistakes that can’t be corrected by going back.
The woman circled him slowly, barefoot, without making a sound on leaves and roots, while the others followed each step with quiet precision.
—Start over —he repeated—. That’s what many men say before destroying something that already exists.
Uпa joveп habló eп υп idioma descoпocido, coп υrgeпcia evidпte, pero fυe sileпciada de iпmediato coп υп gesto seco de la líder.
—My sister thinks we should kill you now—the woman said calmly. —She says all men lie, and liars bring ruin.
Royce’s heart beat hard, but he understood that that was a test, a seven-pointed thing, and the tests demand balance, a peace.
—I didn’t know Webb before the sale—he replied. —He was nervous, yes, but I thought he just wanted to disappear quickly.
The leader stopped in front of him, so close that Royce could feel the warmth of her skin, unlike the damp cold of the surrounding forest.
“Webb stole this land with forged papers,” she said. “He paid men to expel you, and when they failed, he tried to erase you from the maps.”
Royce felt that the weight of the title in his saddlebag was becoming unbearable, as if the leather now held a guilt that did not belong to him, but implicated him.
“I didn’t know anything about that,” he said. “If I had known anyone lived here, I never would have bought it.”
The woman watched him for a long time, searching for cracks in his voice, contradictions in his posture, signs of the kind of man who ruins lives with clean smiles.
—Words can lie —he finally said—, but actions always have their price.
He took the document with a quick movement, read each line, and then folded it carefully, as if handling something fragile and dangerous at the same time.
—This paper doesn’t give you any rights here —he said—. But it doesn’t grant you rights yet either.
The women slowly opened, creating a passage that led to the cabin hidden among ancient trees and roots that seemed like columns from another world.
“Walk,” the leader ordered. “If you run, you die. If you lie, you die. If you respect, perhaps you’ll live.”
Royce obeyed, aware that every step was observed, evaluated, and recorded in silences more eloquent than any direct threat.
The cabin was not what I expected, but something more complex, built with expert hands, integrated into the forest, as if it had always been there.
Inside, the air smelled of dry herbs, wood and old smoke, signs of an organized life, far from the chaos that men usually bring with them.
—We have lived here since before the maps erased us—explained the leader. We learned to depend on those who confuse our domain with protection.
Royce remembered cities, broken contracts, empty promises, and understood that that community was not savage, but deliberately selective.
“We are not seeking war,” she countered. “Only distance, and the ability to decide who crosses our boundaries.”
They offered him water, bread, and silence, a hospitality that did not ask for gratitude, but rather future conduct.
For days, Royce remained under surveillance, helping with simple tasks, repairing fences, carrying firewood, learning not to ask too many questions.
The women observed how he worked, how he accepted corrections without arguing, how he did not demand answers or privileges for being a man.
Some continued to be suspicious, others showed cautious curiosity, but everyone forgot that the past always finds ways to repeat itself.
One night, the leader sat in front of him, with the fire illuminated, her face marked by difficult decisions and conscious reactions.
—You have two options —he said—. Leave at dawn without this paper, without the cabin, without ever returning, or stay under our rules.
Royce raised his gaze, knowing that staying meant belonging, learning to exist, imposing his presence.
“What are the rules?” he asked.
—You shall not command, nor take, nor promise what you cannot fulfill —he replied—. And you shall understand that here, you are the scepter.
Royce nodded slowly, feeling something strange, like relief, like where before there had only been flight.
—I will stay —he said—. Not to possess anything, but to learn to destroy.
The forest did not react, but something in the air changed, as if the decision had been accepted without the need for applause.
Las mυjeres по целебрароп, по сопьероп, simpleмпte сопtiпυарп, iпtegráпdolo siп ceremoпias, porqυe la сопfiaпza se сопstrυye, поo se апυпcia.
Over time, Royce explained that that tribe did not hate men, but rather the arrogance that usually accompanies them.
And so, in a cabin off the map, surrounded by women who chose to survive without permission, Royce learned that starting over is not escaping.
It is to stay, to listen, and to accept that not all territory was created to be conquered.
