Scarlett
We don’t make it far.
Cassian is half-conscious, leaning against Violet as if her spine were made of steel. Liam is pacing in front like he is trying to scout through pure willpower. Edna is humming something that might be a funeral march or a lullaby. Hard to tell with her.
And me? I’m breathing. Barely. Heart ticking like an old watch that hasn’t decided if it wants to keep going. We are all in human form since it is supposedly stealthier, but this part of the forest is quiet, which is never a good sign.
“Anyone else feel like we are being watched?” Edna asks, looking down at her nails as if she considering changing the color once we get home.
“I always feel like I’m being watched,” Liam mutters. “Doesn’t make me right.”
“Oh yes, you have schizophrenia, Darling,” Edna lo
