The tension in Amara’s chest tightened with every step as she picked up her pace.
She didn’t want to look back again, but the unease clawing at her spine refused to quiet. The gravel crunched beneath her boots, and when she slowed, so did the sound. Her breath quickened.
Someone was there. She was sure of it now.
Her hand gripped the strap of her bag, knuckles white.
And then— she turn around
"Sera?"
“Amara!”
She froze.
The voice was unmistakable. Small. Familiar.
There, a few steps behind her, was a tiny figure in an oversized pink hoodie, the hood nearly swallowing her whole. A pair of untied sneakers scuffed the gravel path, and her little hand waved with all the might of a determined child.
“Sera?!”
Amara’s eyes widened in disbelief.
The fear melted away so fast it nearly
