Part 11
When I heard the sound of someone being marked from far away, I stopped in my tracks and my breath caught in my throat. The sharp echo cut through the thick silence in the forest like a knife. Before I could think, my body reacted and I staggered toward the nearest tree, pressing my back against its rough bark as if it could protect me from everything closing in.
My feet hurt.
No burning was enough to explain it.
They were ripped open, and their soles were sore and raw from running for hours without stopping. I felt like I was walking on broken glass with every step, and when I dared to look back over my shoulder, my stomach twisted at what I saw. There was a thin, uneven line of blood on the ground in the woods that showed where I had been.
I couldn't even cover up my path.
