EMMA
I don’t realize I’m being followed until the forest goes quiet.
It happens all at once—the insects stop their frantic chorus, the wind drops, even my footsteps sound too loud against the gravel shoulder of the road. The silence presses in, thick and unnatural, like the world itself is holding its breath.
My pulse stutters.
I slow, then stop, hugging my coat tighter around my body. Pine needles crunch softly beneath my boots as I step off the road and turn, scanning the tree line. The moon hangs low, silver and swollen, casting long shadows that stretch like claws between the trunks.
“Hello?” My voice sounds thin. Exposed.
No answer.
But there’s a smell now.
Iron. Earth. Something sharp and wild that makes my stomach twist.
The bond reacts before my mind does—an ache low in my
