The forest was eerily quiet as Arlen and I made our way through the dense trees. My heart raced, and every c***k of a twig or rustle of leaves sent shivers down my spine. We were being hunted. The banshees’ screeches still echoed in my ears, their haunting wails trailing us as we moved deeper into the wilderness.
Arlen stayed close, his body tense and alert, always ready to fight if they found us. He was my guard now, my protector, and I could feel the weight of his responsibility pressing down on him. I glanced over at him, the moonlight casting sharp shadows across his face. His jaw was set in grim determination, and though I knew he was scared too, he hid it well.
“We should keep moving,” he whispered, his eyes scanning the darkened landscape. “They’ll catch our scent if we stay here
