Ryder leans in, his voice barely a thread. “We move now. Before they notice more prey in their wake.”
I nod, fear flooding my veins. He’s right.
I crouch beside Nala, catching her gaze. “You have to stay quiet,” I whisper. “I know it hurts.”
Her jaw tightens. She nods once.
Ryder lifts her again, slow and careful, and we begin to creep away—each step measured and silent—leaving the monsters tearing at each other behind us and praying they stay distracted long enough for us to disappear.
***
The walk is harder now—so much harder. We rotate carrying Nala between us; she hasn’t complained, not once, but pain isetched into every line of her face. Sweat beads along her brow, gathering like dew, and a sickening worry curls in my stomach.
She’s burning up. Fever. Shock. Maybe both.
And I’m painfully aware of her wound. She’s losing blood—a lotof blood. River’s T-shirt, knotted tight around her, is soaked through with dark red, and I know it won’t go unnoticed. In the Hollow, blood is a beacon. The creatures will smell it, track it, and turn us into living bait.
The deeper we go, the darker the forest becomes. The light dies long before it reaches the ground, devoured by the canopy overhead. Tension has been glued to my spine for most of this journey, tightening with every unnatural rustle of underbrush, with every insect that buzzes too close to my ear. My heart beats like it’s trying to flee without me. And then there are the shapes—those ghostly silhouettes that flicker between the trees, vanishing whenever I try to focus on them.
The Hollow is playing games again, and I don’t know what’s real anymore.
With visibility reduced to a single careful step ahead, every footfall feels like gambling with the dark.
Then—light.
Soft, shimmering glimmers bloom ahead of us. Hundreds of tiny golden sparks flicker between the trunks, drawing us closer like moths to flame. For a moment, I think they’re fireflies—but as we step into view, their forms sharpen.
Flowers.
Hundreds of bioluminescent blossoms cling to the bark, painting the forest in a warm, otherworldly glow.
“Is it okay to stop here?” River pants, lowering Nala gently against a tree. He rolls his shoulders back, muscles trembling. Ryder doesn’t comment; his gaze is elsewhere, fixed and stern.
“That’s okay. I could use a break, too.” I settle beside Nala, brushing hair from her face. “How are you holding up?”
She gives me a small, brave smile. “I’ll be okay. And I’ll have a badass scar to remember this by.”
She laughs—then winces and shifts higher against the tree. I smile with her, though I don’t know why she would want to remember this.
“Yeah, you will,” I echo, though guilt gnaws at my insides. A bright yellow bloom unfurls between us, glowing even brighter like it’s trying to cheer her up. Then another opens. And another.
“Whoa,” Nala whispers, reaching out. Her fingers graze a petal, and the glow travels across her skin, warm and golden, like the flower breathed light into her.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” I say, turning to her with awe mirrored in our eyes. The blossoms sway gently as if presenting themselves, each cell shimmering like tiny stars. Even the insects seem mesmerised, dusted with golden pollen as they drift through the air.
“It smells so fucking good,” Nala sighs, inhaling deeply.
I agree. “When I die, scorch me in this perfume.”
The scent is unreal—honey-sweet, smoky, fresh, like the air after rain mixed with soft sugar. It slices through the musky forest air, defiant and pure. They break up the monotonous greens and browns like a breath of fresh air, and I get the sense that these flowersdon’tbelong here. How could they? Their very essence is like a ruby amidst a hundred thousand stones, but here they are… thriving anyway.
Defying the Hollow.
“Don’t get too close,” Ryder warns. “We don’t know what these are.”
“How bad can they be? They’re just flowers—”
But before she finishes, Nala sneezes, and a burst of yellow pollen explodes from the blossom, drifting through the air as if caught in a wave.
