Twenty feet.
The slope is steeper than it looked. Loose soil slides under my boots. My breath tears in and out, each inhale collidingwith bruised bone.
Ten feet.
Almost there.
Five feet.
Something flickers in my peripheral vision.
I’m not going to make it.
And then I burst through the gap and into the forest beyond.
The canopy is thicker, branches knitted so tightly together that the sky is nothing but thin strips of gray. The ground is a treacherous mess of slick leaves and roots.
I don’t look back.
If I see it behind me, I’ll fall apart. If I don’t see it at all, I’ll slow down. Either way, I lose. So I keep my eyes forward and run.
My breathing is a ragged rasp in my ears, the only sound in the dead forest. Every jarring step sends a fresh spike of pain through my ribs. My shoulder throbs, each swing of my arm a reminder of what awaits me if I’m caught.
Where is it?
I can’t hearanythingexcept my own body—boots pounding, breath rasping, my pulse hammering in my throat, my temples, and my wrists.
Maybe it’s still in the hollow. Maybe it’s still kneeling in that glowing ring, finishing whatever it started while I run blind through trees that all look the same.
Or maybe it’s right behind me.
I don’t know. I just keep going.
The ground dips without warning. I slide down a muddy slope, and catch myself on a sapling that bends to the ground. Scrambling to my feet, I keep moving.
A dark strip of water flashes ahead of me—a narrow stream cutting across my path, all slick stones and black water.
I jump.
My foot hits a rock and slides. My knee smashes into the ground, pain jolting up my thigh and into my hip. For a heartbeat, I’m on all fours, panting, hands sinking into water so cold it numbs my fingers.
Get up!
I haul myself upright. My legs shake with every step. My vision swims, spots dancing at the edges, but I keep moving because stopping is worse.
Run. Run.
I risk a glance over my shoulder.
Nothing.
There are no antlers weaving between the trunks. No tall, gray-green shape. Only broken branches and churned leaves where I’ve crashed through.
I might actually have lost it.
Hope hits me so hard it almost knocks me sideways.
The air ahead of me changes, turns thicker andwrong. A patch of shadow between the trees deepens, turning from ordinary dark into something that raises the hair on my arms.
