Chapter 6: False Trails
1249 Words
CAMELLIA'S POV
The moment the signal flared across the night sky, I didn't hesitate. I bolted.
The other tributes ran too, but there was no real fear in their movements. Their steps were light, playful, almost flirtatious. They weren't fleeing.
They were inviting pursuit. Inviting the Alphas to chase them. To catch them. To claim them.
Their laughter drifted through the trees as they headed for the open clearing where the hunters would find them with little effort.
I didn't spare them a single glance.
The more Alphas drawn to them, the fewer would be on my trail.
I sprinted straight into the densest part of the forest, where the trees grew so close together that the moonlight could barely penetrate the canopy and the underbrush clawed at my robes with every step.
I didn't have the speed of a regular wolf. I didn't have their night vision or their supernatural strength. That meant I couldn't afford to waste a single heartbeat.
Every second mattered.
So I kept running.
Because I had a plan.
A plan I'd been crafting for the past two weeks, ever since the summons arrived with my name printed at the top of the tribute list.
If Theo thought he was the only one capable of scheming, he was mistaken.
I had no intention of being a pawn in his game. I intended to beat him at it.
Roots and uneven ground tried to trip me. Branches threatened to whip at my face. More than once, rough bark nearly scraped my skin.
But this was my forest. It couldn't hurt me.
I knew when to duck, when to leap, and when to pivot sharply without breaking stride.
My lungs burned as I pushed deeper into the wilderness. Then, at last, I spotted what I had been searching for.
Nestled between several massive trees lay a fallen log, hollowed out by age and weather.
I sprinted toward it, dropped to my knees, and reached inside. My arm disappeared up to the elbow before my fingers brushed against leather.
A rush of relief swept through me.
I pulled out the satchel I had hidden there two days ago. It was damp from the forest air but otherwise untouched. Exactly where I had left it.
I opened it quickly. Inside were the only things that might give me a fighting chance: a pair of worn boots and a dagger.
I kicked off the flimsy ceremonial shoes—the ones designed to slow tributes down—and shoved my feet into the boots. The leather hugged my ankles, familiar and grounding.
Then I picked up one of the discarded shoes.
A small smile tugged at my lips.
"Good luck following that," I whispered, hurling it as far as I could to my left.
The second shoe flew in the opposite direction, vanishing into the darkness between the trees.
Let them waste their time chasing ghosts.
I reached into the satchel once more and pulled out the dagger.
Bending down, I gathered the long skirt of my robe and sliced away the extra fabric that would only slow me down. I stuffed the torn strips into the satchel along with the ridiculous veil.
The moment I felt light enough to move freely, I ran again.
By now, the hunters would have been released into the forest, and they were twice—perhaps three times—as fast as me.
I silently prayed to the Moon Goddess that none of those hungry Alphas would bother venturing this deep into the woods.
Because I had to reach the waterfall first. Before any of them found it. Before any of them found me.
The moment I heard the distant roar of rushing water, I pushed myself harder despite the burn in my lungs and the ache spreading through my legs.
As I ran, I reached into my satchel and pulled out the veil and the strips of fabric I had hidden there earlier. Gripping the dagger between my teeth to free both hands, I sliced the cloth into smaller pieces as I moved.
The wind was in my favor tonight, sweeping through the forest in long, cool currents.
I tossed the strips into the air, letting them scatter in every direction except the one I was heading. They fluttered away like pale ghosts, drifting into the underbrush, snagging on branches, and leaving false trails that led everywhere but to me.
The roar of the waterfall grew louder, vibrating through the ground beneath my feet.
I veered toward it and skidded to a stop at the edge of the pool.
Dropping to one knee, I scooped up a handful of wet soil and smeared it across my face, arms, and legs. Then I rubbed more into my robe until the white fabric was stained brown.
If it was even possible for a scentless wolf like me to carry a scent, the mud would drown it out.
More importantly, it would help conceal me from wolves whose eyes could pierce the darkness far better than mine ever could.
Only then did I move again.
Not toward the basin where the water crashed down in a shimmering silver curtain, but toward the narrow trail winding behind it.
The rocks were slick, and the path was barely wide enough for a single footstep, but I knew every inch of it.
I pressed a hand against the stone wall, letting the cold surface guide me as I slipped behind the waterfall. Mist kissed my skin, soaking through my robe and sending a chill racing down my spine.
Then, in the darkness, my fingers found the opening.
There.
Relief surged through me.
I squeezed through the narrow gap, my shoulders scraping against stone, and emerged into the hidden cave beyond.
The air inside was cool and still, untouched by the chaos outside.
No one knew about this place. The entrance remained completely concealed behind the waterfall, hidden within the rock face itself.
No one would think to search here.
So this was where I would hide.
If I stayed here until dawn, if I remained unfound, I would walk out of this forest unscathed. Unclaimed. Unbroken.
Carefully, I crossed the cave and settled into the darkest corner I could find. Then I drew my knees to my chest, the dagger still clutched tightly in my hand.
For the first time all night, I allowed myself to breathe.
The hardest part was over. I only had to make it until dawn.
With that thought, I closed my eyes. The tension I had been carrying for weeks slowly melted away, replaced by a wave of exhaustion that crashed over me.
Sleep claimed me before I could fight it.
The next thing I knew, I was dreaming.
I was home. Everything was peaceful, warm, and normal.
Then the dream shattered.
Something seized my arm.
A hand closed around my wrist and yanked me upright so abruptly that the world spun. The dagger slipped from my fingers and clattered against the stone floor.
Before I could even gasp, my back slammed into something solid.
Not a wall.
It was warm, and breathing.
A chest.
A rough hand clamped over my mouth, smothering the scream that surged up my throat.
My heart lurched painfully, hammering against my ribs as panic clawed through me. I thrashed instinctively, but the grip only tightened, pinning me in place.
Then a voice—low, deep, and far too close—brushed against my ear.
"Don't make a sound."
- Writer
