Grace
The forest swallowed her whole.
Every breath came out in sharp bursts of white, every step crunching too loud against the silence. Grace stumbled through the snow, one arm wrapped around her ribs, her other hand gripping a branch she’d ripped from a tree for balance—or defense.
Her boot squelched with every step. She didn’t have to look to know blood soaked through the leather. The fall had split the skin; it hurt worse with each movement. The cold didn’t numb it—it sharpened it, made it feel like fire licking up her leg.
“Kaleb,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Nothing answered but the wind.
The forest stretched endless, an ocean of white and gray. Every tree looked the same. Every shadow felt alive. The quiet wasn’t peace—it was a predator, crouched and waiting.
She turn
