Nymera’s POV
The sound didn’t come from the path. It came from above.
A slow scrape, like claws testing bark. Something shifted weight on a branch I couldn’t see, and pine needles drifted down onto my hair. One landed on my cheek, cold and damp. I didn’t dare brush it away.
Then a whisper, barely louder than the wind: “You’re alone now.”
It wasn’t a voice I knew. It slid around the stone and curled close to my ear, but when I jerked my head up, the branches were empty. Only the needles kept falling.
My hand found a rock beside me. I didn’t throw it. I just held it, and waited for whatever was up there to make the next move. It didn’t. After a heartbeat that lasted too long, the scraping moved away, limb to limb, until the forest swallowed it.
I stayed curled there, shaking,
