I don’t remember how long I stayed by the riverbank. Time twisted there, wrapped in moonlight and memory, tangled in the sharp scent of blood and the salt of my tears.
The world felt distant, like I had been torn from it....like I stood on the edge of something ancient and terrible.
Birdsong broke the silence first.
Gentle. Hesitant. As if the forest itself didn’t know what to make of me now.
The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the sky was softening, a bruised violet bleeding into pink.
I dragged myself to my feet, each movement heavy, foreign, like my bones didn’t recognize me anymore. My body ached in places I didn’t have words for. My fingers were torn at the tips, the nails jagged, crusted with dried blood that wasn’t mine.
I waded into the river.
The water was freezing....merciless,
