They are running now.
The forest blurs past in shades of black and gray.
The moon hides behind thick clouds, offering only occasional glimpses of silver light.
The air is cold and damp, carrying the smell of wet leaves and distant rain.
Fae clings to Karissa's back, her arms wrapped around Karissa's neck, her legs dangle against Karissa's sides.
Between them, pressed against Fae's bare chest, is her newborn son—Kade.
He is wrapped in a torn piece of Karissa's shirt, still damp from the river, his tiny body warm against Fae's skin and his breathing is shallow but steady.
Fae counts each breath.
One. Two. Three. Four.
He is alive. He is still alive.
Karissa runs in her wolf form—Mira.
Autumn-colored fur, golden eyes, paws silent on the forest floor, her muscles bunch and stret
