Something felt off. It wasn’t the cold. It wasn’t the sky, either—though it hung low with snow-heavy clouds. It was something in her chest. In her limbs. In her breath.
Xochi stood in the clearing behind the cluster of pack houses, her arms wrapped around herself, heart hammering for no reason she could name.
She’d barely slept the night before.
Something in her bones had started buzzing.
Like her skin didn’t fit.
She didn’t tell anyone where she was going. Just slipped out before dawn. Before whoever was assigned to follow her that day could find her.
It didn’t matter.
She just needed space.
She needed to breathe—really breathe—for the first time in days.
She began to run into the towering pines. Her body telling her to move forward and she listened instinctively. The woods whisp
