Hungry.
***
The flames crackle as they eat up the dry twigs and leaves, casting us in a buttery glow. The smoke rises, desperate to escape the canopy but lingers just before the leaves, unable to get past its thick patchwork. It hangs there like a low ceiling, a constant reminder that even the air is caged in this place.
Nala shifts beside me, coughing once, her breath hitching on the smoke. We’ve been rationing what little food we have left—nibbling at stale bread like starved mice, pretending the tiny bites stretch further than they do. Day two is slipping away into darkness, which means we have three days left. Three days to survive. Three days to find a way out.
Psy never told us the exact number of trials we would face here in the Hollow, but I’m hoping that it stops at two.
A cold breeze threads itself through the trees, howling low and mournfully, as if the Hollow itself is laughing at me. Even the fire seems to join in, sparks dancing like tiny mocking eyes
“You saw Charlie, didn’t you?” Nala’s voice is soft, but it lands like a stone in my stomach. In the firelight, her eyes glow crimson—brighter than usual, reflecting something I know is pain.
I grab her hand instantly. “Yes,” I whisper. “I did.”
A stiff smile tugs at my lips, but she only nods, accepting it with more grace than I deserve.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she murmurs, brushing away a single tear with the back of her hand. The gesture is small, almost timid—so unlike her usual strength that it twists something inside me.
I was sorry too—sorry that I hadn’t realised the extent of her suffering. It’s as if the Hollow took the worst parts of ourselves and made them transparent for anyone to see. Rivers’ eyes keep finding mine, like ships lost at sea, searching for a lighthouse in the distance or a shore to break. But I force my eyes away, afraid that the part of him made transparent could shatter like glass.
That I’ll break something I cannot put back together.
It took us longer than it should have to find a place to settle for the night. The forest seemed determined to keep shifting around us, every clearing too exposed, every thicket too tight, every tree watching us with the same silent malice the Hollow has worn since we arrived. By the time we finally chose a spot, my legs were threatening to give out.
The cottage stole more from me than breath and clarity—it stole the steadiness from my body. Hours later, my legs still feel empty, as if something inside them was scooped out and not fully returned. Every step since then has been a quiet negotiation between weakness and will. Even now, sitting by the fire, the tremor hasn’t stopped. It shivers through me in slow, unreliable waves.
I keep flexing my toes inside my boots, trying to ground myself in something other than the memory of that place. But the phantom pull of the cottage still clings to me—the sensation of being dragged, of the door sealing shut, of the world shrinking down to four fears and a man I’ve tried so hard to forget.
The others pretend not to notice my shaking knees.
Ryder keeps glancing at me when he thinks I’m not looking.
River keeps looking even when I am.
Nala stays close enough that our shoulders brush, like she’s anchoring me without saying a word.
But the tremor doesn’t stop.
It’s as if part of me is still inside that house, still facing The General, still fighting a shadow that knows every weakness I possess.
And the Hollow… the Hollow feels it.
I swear it breathes a little deeper every time my hands start to shake.
“How much further do you think… until we’re out of this place?” Nala’s eyes draw up to the awning as if she could see through to the blanket of stars above. And I know she wants as badly to get out of this place as I do… to breathe in anything other than damp, moist air. To feel the warmth of the sun drip through our bodies. Maybe then my legs would stop shaking.
“I don’t know,” I admit, rubbing my thumb along the frayed edge of my sleeve. “But we must be over halfway by now.”
I cling to the thought, hoping it’s true—hoping desperately—because I can’t imagine forcing my body through another two days in this place. The Hollow drains you in ways that don’t feel physical until suddenly everything aches at once. Even breathing feels like wading through something thick and stale.
IthoughtI understood where we were in the forest. I’d been tracking the direction of the wind, the bend of certain trees, the slope of the ground. But the cottage… that thing ruined everything. It didn’t merely shift through the forest—itwarpedit. Paths that should’ve led away looped back on themselves. Clearings appeared where they hadn’t existed moments before. The sense of direction I’d always trusted—my internal compass—now feels twisted and deceived, bent out of shape until it’s barely recognisable.
“Why don’t you ask the walking encyclopedia over there?” River glares at Ryder, who is sharpening his sword on a rock with a dangerous look in his eye.
“Watch it.” He spits, the darkness seemingly revolving around him.
“Gods, you two are ridiculous.” Nala looks between all of us with an expression that screamsIf I have to mediate one more emotional crisis, I will fling myself into this fire.
