The Pine Hollow Promise

Elena didn’t want to go.

Her mother had been planning the trip to Pine Hollow for weeks — a weekend cabin stay “just like old times,” she said. But old times were hard to think about without her father in them. He’d passed away eight months earlier after a long battle with cancer, and nothing about the world felt the same since. Least of all the woods.

Still, Saturday morning found them loading up the car: Elena, her little brother Jonah, and their mother, with coolers full of food and a small tote containing the prescriptions that Jonah now had to take twice a day.

It had been a rough year for all of them.

The winding road to Pine Hollow was quiet, lined with towering pines and oaks. As they drove, Jonah leaned forward from the backseat, pointing at birds and deer through the window. His energy had slowly returned since his diagnosis and treatment, but Elena still watched him too closely — noting every time he coughed, paused, or grew pale. She’d become a sister and a guardian all at once.

Their cabin sat by a narrow river, its roof blanketed in moss and its porch creaking like an old friend. It had been their family’s escape for years, back when life was simpler — fishing, hiking, campfires, and long walks with their father, who’d called the place “nature’s pharmacy.”

“Let’s go for a walk,” their mom suggested after unpacking. “Jonah needs fresh air.”

Jonah agreed immediately, eager to explore, but Elena hesitated. The forest felt like a ghost of memory — too full of things they couldn’t bring back. Still, she laced up her boots and followed them onto the trail that wound through the trees.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the forest floor in gold. Jonah raced ahead, sticks in hand, pretending to swordfight invisible enemies. Their mother walked beside Elena, quietly.

“Dad would’ve loved this,” Elena said finally.

Her mother nodded. “I think he does. In some way.”

They walked in silence for a while, listening to the wind stir the treetops. The air was clean, sharper than in the city, and every breath felt like it scrubbed something raw inside her chest.

They stopped at a clearing near a rock formation their dad had dubbed “Bear’s Throne.” Jonah climbed on top, triumphant. Elena smiled despite herself.

Later, while they ate lunch beside the river, her mother pulled out Jonah’s medicine. He took it without complaint, used to the routine now.

“You doing okay?” Elena asked him.

Jonah nodded, then looked up at the sky. “I feel like I’m getting better here. Not just the pills. The trees help.”

Elena blinked. “The trees?”

He grinned. “They whisper stuff. Like… ‘You’re stronger than you think.’ That kind of thing.”

Her mother chuckled, but Elena looked around, strangely moved. The breeze stirred the leaves again, and for a moment, she imagined she could hear it too — soft voices, ancient and kind.

That night, they built a fire outside the cabin. Jonah roasted marshmallows and told exaggerated stories about tree-spirits and magical squirrels. Elena leaned back against the bench and looked up through the clearing at the stars. For the first time in a long while, she felt the weight in her chest loosen.

Pine Hollow hadn’t changed their reality — their grief, their worry, the future still unknown. But it reminded them they weren’t alone. Not with each other. Not in the forest.

Maybe nature couldn’t fix everything.

But it helped heal.