The forest grew quieter as night descended, though the silence was deceptive. Every drip of rain from the canopy, every distant snap of a branch felt like a whisper of pursuit. Elira followed Kaelen through the undergrowth, her breath shallow, her eyes darting at every shadow.
The stream they had used to hide their trail had long fallen behind, but its cold still clung to her bones. Her clothes clung damp to her skin, and her boots squelched in the mud. Kaelen moved with the sure-footed confidence of someone who had been trained in flight and pursuit since boyhood. Even with his injury, he kept his steps light, his gaze sharp, as though every tree and stone was part of a chessboard only he could read.
Finally, he slowed, raising a hand. Ahead, the trees thinned around a mossy outcrop of stone. A half-collapsed hunter's shelter leaned against it, little more than a lean-to of rotting timbers and a roof of brambles, but it was cover.
"This will do for now," Kaelen said. His voice was low, but relief softened the edges. "We cannot keep moving without rest. They'll drive us into the ground otherwise."
Elira glanced at the ruined shelter, doubt flickering in her eyes. "Will it be enough?"
"Enough to keep us alive until dawn." He gestured toward the stone. "Help me clear the brush."
Together, they pulled away vines and damp branches, carving out a small hollow beneath the shelter. It was cramped, barely large enough for the two of them, but it shielded them from the worst of the rain.
Kaelen crouched at the entrance, scanning the woods. His silhouette was rigid against the night sky, dagger drawn but held low, more comfort than threat. Elira watched him for a moment, noticing the tension in his shoulders, the way he seemed to bear more than his wound allowed.
"You never sleep," she said softly.
He glanced at her, one brow lifting. "And you never stop worrying."
She smiled faintly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Perhaps both of us should learn."
Kaelen's expression softened, though he said nothing. Instead, he returned his gaze to the dark.
Elira leaned back against the cold stone, exhaustion tugging at her. But sleep would not come easily. Not with her thoughts heavy, not with her fire still simmering beneath her skin like embers in ash. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the mercenary's face as flames had burst from her palms. She saw his shock, his fear. And part of her wondered if she should fear herself just as much.
---
**Elsewhere in the forest**
Ravik crouched beside the dying embers of a campfire, his men gathered close. Rain hissed on the coals, sending smoke curling into the damp air.
"They're close," one of his men muttered. "The tracks were fresh not an hour past."
Ravik's scarred lips twisted into a smile. "Closer than they know. We'll let them rest. Flight wears the body down faster than the blade. When dawn comes, we strike."
Another mercenary, lean and sharp-eyed, frowned. "But the girl…"
"What of her?" Ravik snapped.
"She burned Orlen's arm with bare hands. That's no simple trick."
Ravik's smile widened, cruel and knowing. "All the better. The prince alone is worth a chest of coin. But her?" He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a growl. "She's worth a kingdom. Whoever our employer is, they'll pay thrice what they offered once we bring her too."
His men shifted uneasily, but none dared challenge him. They knew Ravik's reputation, the blood on his hands. He was not a man who left prey unclaimed.
---
**At the farmstead**
Corin lay awake on his straw mat, listening to the storm batter the shutters. His mother's soft breathing came from the other side of the room, his sister curled close at her side. But Corin could not sleep. He kept hearing the hoofbeats, the harsh voices of the riders, the flash of steel as they passed the farm.
His father had not returned from the fields. That gnawed at him like hunger.
Finally, Corin rose, pulling his cloak tight, and crept to the door. He pushed it open just enough to peer into the night. The fields were dark, the rain steady. Somewhere out there, his father was still missing.
He hesitated—then slipped out, vanishing into the wet night.
---
**Back at the shelter**
Elira stirred, pulled from shallow sleep by the sound of Kaelen shifting. His cloak had slipped from his shoulders, revealing the dark stain spreading across the bandage at his side.
She sat up quickly. "You're bleeding again."
Kaelen gave a faint shake of his head, as though the matter was too small to warrant concern. "It's nothing."
"Nothing?" She reached for her satchel, pulling free a roll of linen and a vial of salve. "You've been hiding it since the cave. Don't think I haven't noticed."
He exhaled, a sound caught between resignation and amusement. "You're relentless."
"I'm a healer." Her hands were firm as she pressed him back against the stone, ignoring his faint grimace. She peeled back the bloodied bandage, wincing at the wound beneath. It had been hastily stitched, the flesh torn deeper than she'd thought.
"This should have been tended days ago," she scolded softly.
"Didn't have the luxury." His gaze softened as he looked at her. "Not until now."
Her fingers trembled slightly as she cleaned the wound, applying salve before wrapping it anew. She tried to focus only on the work, not on the heat of his body so close, or the steady rhythm of his breath.
When she tied the final knot, Kaelen caught her wrist gently. His eyes, in the faint light, were unguarded. "Thank you."
Elira swallowed, her heart skipping. "Don't thank me yet. You'll need more care before it heals properly."
"Still," he said, his voice low, "I owe you my life."
Something unspoken lingered between them, fragile as glass. Then Kaelen released her hand, turning his gaze back toward the forest.
---
**Mercenaries again**
Ravik's men spread silently through the undergrowth, setting snares and false trails. One carried a bundle of oiled cloth, carefully preparing torches.
Ravik oversaw them with satisfaction. "By dawn, the prince will have no path left. We'll herd him like sheep to the slaughter."
One of the younger men hesitated. "And the villagers? They'll see us, maybe warn him."
Ravik sneered. "Then we silence them. No loose ends."
The mercenaries nodded, grim-faced. They were killers, every one of them. And Ravik's will was law.
---
**At dawn**
Pale light bled through the canopy, silvering the mist. Elira stirred awake, aching from cold and stone. Kaelen was already outside the shelter, scanning the woods.
"They're tightening the noose," he said when she joined him. "We can't stay on the road north. Too predictable. We'll cut west, through the marshes."
"Marshes?" she asked, frowning.
"Harder ground. Harder pursuit. If they follow, they'll pay for every step."
Elira shivered, but nodded. "Then lead the way."
They gathered their things, ready to move. But even as they stepped into the misty forest, Kaelen's hand tightened on his dagger. He had seen something—shadows moving where shadows should not.
And somewhere in the trees, Ravik smiled, the trap ready to spring.