The forest swallowed them whole.
Snow crunched under their feet as they stumbled deeper into the black maze of trees. The air was sharp enough to cut skin, each breath a painful sting in Arya's chest. She clutched Noel against her, his small body trembling violently, while Ivy led the way, every movement precise, silent, like a shadow.
Behind them, the echo of gunfire still cracked through the night. The killers were spreading, combing the ruins of the town and the nearby woods. Arya could hear faint shouts carried on the wind cold voices barking orders. Closer than before.
"Faster," Ivy hissed, glancing over his shoulder. "They'll catch our trail."
Arya tried, but her legs felt like stone. Hours of running, swimming, and freezing had drained every drop of strength she had left. Her lungs burned, her vision blurred. She staggered, almost falling face-first into the snow, but Ivy caught her arm and steadied her.
"Stay up," he growled, though his grip was firm, not cruel. "If you fall now, you're dead."
His words stung, but they lit a fire in her chest. She forced her legs to keep moving, clutching Noel tighter. The boy's weak whimpers were muffled against her shoulder, each one piercing Arya's heart like glass.
They trudged on for what felt like an eternity. The trees closed around them, branches heavy with frost, moonlight filtering in faint silver beams. Every sound the snap of a twig, the rustle of wind made Arya flinch. Fear stalked them like a predator, always a step behind.
Finally, Ivy slowed, raising a hand. He crouched low, scanning the ground. Arya followed his gaze and realized what he had noticed footprints. Not theirs. Fresh ones. Leading deeper into the forest.
Her stomach twisted. "Others?" she whispered.
"Maybe," Ivy muttered. His eyes narrowed. "Or maybe bait. They could be driving survivors into traps."
Arya's blood turned cold. Traps. Hunters. The killers weren't just slaughtering they were chasing, herding, like wolves driving prey.
Noel whimpered softly. Ivy shot him a sharp look, then pulled a ragged scarf from his coat pocket. He crouched in front of the boy, tying it gently around his mouth. "Quiet," he whispered. "Only for now. Understand?"
Tears welled in Noel's eyes, but he nodded. Arya stroked his hair, whispering, "It's okay, little one. We'll be safe." She prayed she wasn't lying.
Ivy moved again, following the footprints but keeping to the shadows. Every few steps, he stopped, listening, his head tilting like a hunter stalking prey. Arya marveled at his calm. Even here, with death pressing in from all sides, he never faltered.
But she saw the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers twitched on the wooden weapon he carried. He was scared too. He just hid it better.
After what felt like hours, the forest opened into a small clearing. In the center stood the charred skeleton of what once had been a watchtower. Only half its frame remained, jutting out of the snow like broken ribs.
Ivy scanned it carefully, then nodded. "We'll rest here. Just for a little while."
Arya sank gratefully to the ground, her arms numb from carrying Noel. She laid the boy down beside her, wrapping the blanket tighter around him. His eyes fluttered shut almost instantly, exhaustion dragging him into uneasy sleep.
Ivy crouched near the broken tower, scraping frost off the ground. "We can't light a fire. Smoke will give us away."
Arya rubbed her frozen hands together, shivering so hard her bones rattled. "How long… do you think they'll hunt?"
His eyes flickered toward her. In the moonlight, they looked like shards of flint. "Until every last survivor is dead."
Arya swallowed, her throat dry. "Then what chance do we have?"
For a long moment, Ivy didn't answer. Then he finally spoke, voice low and steady. "As long as we're breathing, we have a chance. That's enough."
His words settled something in her chest not hope, not exactly, but the refusal to give up. She clung to that.
They rested in silence. The only sounds were Noel's shallow breathing and the distant howl of dogs. Arya leaned back against the frozen wood, exhaustion tugging at her eyelids. She told herself she'd just close them for a moment. Just a moment.
Darkness pulled at her.
She dreamed of fire. Of screams. Of blood soaking her hands.
And then she jolted awake.
Not from the dream. From a sound.
A low growl.
Her eyes snapped open. At the edge of the clearing, half-hidden in the trees, two glowing eyes stared back at her. A wolf.
It stepped forward, teeth bared, breath steaming in the cold air. Behind it, shadows shifted. More wolves. A whole pack, drawn by the scent of weakness and fear.
Arya's heart stopped. She reached instinctively for Noel, pulling him close as he stirred. Ivy was already on his feet, weapon raised, every muscle tense.
The wolves circled slowly, paws silent on the snow. Their eyes gleamed like fire in the moonlight.
They were surrounded.