No. Focus.I need to focus.
What was I doing? Where was I going?
Kazimir. I was looking for Kazimir. Or was I running from someone? I can't remember. My thoughts feel so foggy and cloudy, and I’m having a hard time remembering why I would have come out here at all. I could have stayed in the safe house. It was warm. So warm?—
My foot catches on something, and I go down hard, face-first into the snow. It's cold against my cheek, but it almost feels nice. I should get up, though, I tell myself.
I will. In just a minute. I just need to rest for a minute.
The snow feels almost soft, like a pillow. I could just close my eyes for a moment…
No.
The word comes from somewhere deep inside, some primal part of my brain that knows if I close my eyes now, I won't open them again.
Get up.
I push myself to my hands and knees. My arms are shaking so badly I can barely support my weight.
Get. Up.
I make it to my feet, sway, and then almost go down again.
Keep moving.
I take a step. Another. It’s almost fully dark now. I can barely see the trees in front of me. I can’t think of anything except how cold and dark it is, and the desperate need to keep moving.
And then, echoing through the trees, I hear a howl. It’s high and mournful, rising and falling with the wind, and the sound makes my chest ache in the instant before I realize what it is.
Then, my heart is racing.
Wolves.
Another howl answers the first. Then another. There’s a chorus of them, echoing through the darkness. They sound far away—maybe a mile? I have no way to gauge, and everything is strange out here—distance, time, all of it. I don’t feel like I can get a grasp on any of it, especially not now, after being out here for so long.
I start walking again, faster now—as fast as I can manage. The howling continues, and it's hard to tell how many there are. It sounds like they’re getting closer, like they’re moving through the trees… hunting, maybe?
My breath comes in short, sharp gasps. The panic I've been holding at bay starts to flood my veins, and that familiar feeling of being prey creeps back in, the fearful sensation that I became so used to at Iosef’s compound.
I need shelter. I need to climb a tree, or something… anything to get away, to put distance between the predators who will eat me alive.
There’s another howl, much closer this time, and I break into a run.
My feet scream in protest. My lungs burn. I can't see where I'm going, can't see anything in the darkness. I stumble and go to my knees in the snow, then drag myself up again. The howling sounds like it’s all around me now. I look behind me, my heart pounding, and I see yellow eyes in the darkness.
Oh God.
I run faster, my heart hammering so hard I think it might burst. I can hear them now—not just howling, but running. The sound of paws on snow, of bodies moving through the underbrush.
They're chasing me. I'm prey.Again. I’m prey for something faster, bloodier, more vicious than me.
That’s all I’m ever going to be, right up until the second I die.
The thought is primal, visceral. I hear a snarl, and I want to scream, but I can’t find the air for it. My lungs are tight and burning, my body already having been pushed far beyond its actual limits today. I have nothing left to give, and I can feel my legs crumpling under me. My vision is tunneling.
I'm not going to make it.
I see a tree ahead, a massive pine with low branches. If I can climb?—
