Without a word, he picked up a rusted dagger, stretched, yawned, and ambled toward the edge of the forest—just like Cara said. One of the other men grunted at him, but he waved him off. "I'll be right back."
He disappeared into the trees.
Cara's eyes met Nysa's.
Now.
Nysa's breath hitched. Her legs trembled as she slowly—quietly—shifted her body, sliding her foot out of its makeshift shackle of rope. They had loosened it a little earlier without drawing attention.
Her heart pounded.
If this failed…
She didn't think about it. She moved.
The shadows cloaked them as they crept away, silent as mice. A few other captives stirred, watching them with wide, hopeful eyes—but no one called out.
Nysa ducked beneath a low branch, her fingers grazing the damp earth. She could still smell blood. Hear the echo of her mother's scream.
Please, she begged in her head. Just this once. Let me be free.
They passed the fire's glow.
Ten steps more.
Still no one noticed.
A shout cracked the night.
"Hey!"
They froze.
"No," Cara hissed, grabbing Nysa's wrist. "Run!"
And Nysa ran.
Branches clawed at Nysa's face like skeletal fingers, their jagged edges scraping against her skin as she hurtled through the underbrush. Her lungs burned with each ragged breath, her ribs aching as if they might crack under the strain. The pounding of her heart drowned out all thought, all reason, there was only the drumbeat of survival, the desperate rhythm of her feet slamming against the uneven earth.
Behind her, the night erupted with the snarls of their pursuers.
"Find them!" a voice roared, raw with fury.
The undergrowth shuddered as men crashed through it, their boots snapping twigs, their swords glinting like fangs in the moonlight. The stench of sweat and iron clung to the air, carried on the wind with their curses.
"Faster!" Cara's voice was a blade in the dark, sharp and urgent. Her fingers locked around Nysa's wrist, yanking her forward with a strength that bordered on painful.
Nysa's legs wobbled beneath her. Every muscle screamed in protest, her vision swimming with exhaustion. The memory of her mother's lifeless eyes—wide and unseeing—flashed behind her eyelids. The hollow absence where her brother had once stood.
No. Not again.
She gritted her teeth and forced herself onward, her bare feet slapping against damp earth, her toes curling around gnarled roots as she pushed herself beyond the brink of collapse.
Finally...finally...the shouts behind them faded into the whispering trees. The forest swallowed the sounds of pursuit, leaving only the hum of night insects and the creak of ancient branches swaying in the wind.
Nysa and Cara staggered to a stop, their bodies heaving. Nysa bent double, her hands braced on her knees as she gasped for air. The metallic tang of blood coated her tongue.
"Did we… lose them?" Cara panted, her blonde hair clinging to her forehead in sweat-slick strands. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her knuckles white where they gripped Nysa's sleeve.
Nysa strained to listen.
Silence.
No snapping branches. No furious voices. Just the quiet pulse of the forest around them.
"I… I think so," Nysa breathed, though the words felt hollow. The fear still coiled in her gut, a serpent waiting to strike.
Cara's lips twitched into a shaky grin. "See? I told you. We'd get out."
Nysa didn't answer. Her fingers trembled as she wiped the dirt from her face, her pulse still thundering in her ears.
They moved cautiously, creeping through the trees like shadows. The forest thinned, giving way to a rough dirt path that stretched ahead, pale beneath the moon's ghostly glow.
"If we follow this road, someone will come by," Cara whispered, her voice barely audible. "A carriage, or traders. We can wave them down for help."
Nysa nodded numbly, her body still thrumming with adrenaline. Every rustle of leaves, every distant hoot of an owl, sent her heart lurching.
They walked for what felt like an eternity, their bare feet bruised and bleeding, their limbs heavy with exhaustion. The trees gave way to open plains, the wind carrying the scent of dew and damp earth.
Then...
Hoofbeats.
Nysa froze.
"Do you hear that?" Cara's voice was a razor's edge.
Nysa's breath caught. The rhythmic pounding of horses grew louder, the sound vibrating through the ground beneath her feet. Moonlight glinted off polished harnesses as the riders rounded the bend, their silhouettes dark against the silvered road.
"It's riders!" Cara's face lit with desperate hope. Before Nysa could stop her, she lunged forward, arms waving wildly. "Help us! Please!"
"Cara, wait...!" Nysa's warning died in her throat as Cara threw herself directly into the path of the oncoming horses.
The riders yanked hard on their reins, their mounts rearing with startled snorts. Dust swirled in their wake as the horses skidded to a halt.
Two men loomed above them, their faces obscured by the night. One leaned down, extending a hand towards Cara. Without hesitation, she seized it, scrambling onto the horse behind him.
"Come on, Nysa!" Cara urged, her voice breathless with relief.
The second rider turned toward Nysa, his arm outstretched.
Something twisted in her gut.
Their silence was unnatural. No questions. No reassurances. Just, waiting.
"What are you waiting for?" Cara's voice cracked with impatience.
Nysa swallowed hard, her fingers hovering in the air. Then, with a trembling breath, she clasped the rider's forearm and hauled herself up.
The moment her weight settled, the horses surged forward, their powerful muscles bunching as they tore down the road. Nysa clutched the rider's cloak, her fingers digging into the rough fabric as the wind howled past her ears. His broad shoulders blocked her view, the world reduced to the violent rhythm of hooves against earth.
Then...
Moonlight spilled through the trees, bathing the road in silver.
And Nysa's blood turned to ice.
The rider's sleeve gleamed in the pale light, the intricate embroidery along the cuff unmistakable.
Her breath hitched.
That uniform.
She knew it.
She knew it.
It was the same as their captors.
.
.