Branches whipped against their arms as they tore through the forest, the night thick with shadows. Nia stumbled, breath catching in her throat.
"Zuri—wait! I—I can't—" she gasped, nearly tripping over a root.
Zuri yanked her upright, refusing to slow. "Yes, you can. Don't look back, Nia. Just run!"
Tears stung Nia's eyes as her chest heaved. "What if it's still following us?"
"It is," Zuri said firmly, her voice steady even as her lungs burned. "But it doesn't matter. We're faster. We have to be."
The sound of cracking branches echoed behind them, closer now. Nia whimpered, her grip tightening on Zuri's hand. "Zuri, I'm scared."
"I know." Zuri glanced at her friend, her jaw set, her eyes bright with determination. "But fear doesn't get to decide for us. We do."
For a heartbeat, Nia looked into Zuri's face—sweat, dirt, and unshakable resolve—and something inside her steadied. She nodded, swallowing her panic.
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay. I'll keep running."
Zuri squeezed her hand, then pulled her forward. The two girls plunged deeper into the forest, hearts pounding in rhythm, refusing to give in to the darkness chasing them.
The forest broke suddenly, trees thinning until the girls burst out onto gravel, their shoes skidding on the rough surface. Ahead, the moonlight spread across a narrow road, empty and stretching in both directions.
Nia bent double, clutching her side, gasping for air. "Zuri—I can't… I can't go anymore."
Zuri glanced back toward the treeline, her face pale but fierce. The sound of branches snapping still echoed, closer and closer. "You don't have to. Look!"
A rumble grew in the distance. Headlights cut through the dark, a truck barreling down the road. Zuri pulled Nia into the ditch, waving frantically with her free arm. "Down here—now!"
The truck thundered past, and Zuri's eyes lit up when she spotted the open bed in the back. Without hesitation, she shoved Nia forward. "Climb in!"
"But—what if—" Nia stammered, trembling.
"No time!" Zuri barked. She practically lifted Nia into the bed of the truck, then scrambled in after her. They pressed themselves flat against cold metal, hearts hammering.
The engine roared as the truck sped down the road, carrying them away from the forest. For the first time that night, the sounds of pursuit faded into the distance.
Nia clutched Zuri's hand, still shaking. "Zuri… we left the city. Where are we even going?"
Zuri kept her eyes fixed on the road unraveling behind them, refusing to let go of Nia's hand. "Anywhere but back. That's enough for now."
The truck rattled on into the unknown, carrying the girls away from the shadows that still lurked in the forest.
The roar of the truck faded into memory.
Twelve years later.
The night air was thick with smoke and the stench of oil. A dim streetlamp flickered over a narrow alley, its glow cutting across the broken bottles and scattered trash. In the center of it, a young woman stood, shoulders squared, fists clenched. Her name was Arin.
Nineteen, maybe twenty, with sharp eyes that never wavered, she moved like someone who'd been fighting her whole life.
Around her, four men circled, grinning with crooked teeth and rusted knives glinting in the light. One of them spat on the ground.
"Wrong street to walk alone, girl," he sneered.
Arin tilted her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Funny. I was about to say the same to you."
The first goon lunged. Arin slipped aside, her boot connecting sharply with his knee. He crumpled with a scream, clutching his leg. Another swung a bottle, but she caught his wrist mid-strike, twisting until the glass shattered harmlessly against the wall.
"Pathetic," she muttered, shoving him back.
The third came at her from behind, but she was already spinning—her elbow slammed into his jaw, dropping him flat.
Breathing hard, the last man hesitated, eyes darting between his fallen friends and the fire burning in Arin's gaze. She stepped toward him, slow and deliberate.
"Run," she said, voice low.
He didn't need to be told twice. Boots pounding, he vanished into the night, leaving his groaning companions on the ground.
Arin exhaled, brushing a strand of dark hair from her face. Her knuckles ached, but her eyes were steady.
The fight was over, but something in the way she glanced at the shadows—like she was waiting for something worse—made it clear this was no ordinary street brawl
The last goon disappeared into the dark, his footsteps swallowed by the night. Arin rolled her shoulders, flexing her sore fingers before turning back toward the street.
A small, trembling voice called out, "M-my purse…"
An elderly woman stood near the corner, clutching her shawl tight around her thin frame. Her eyes were wide, still frightened, but she gasped with relief when Arin bent down and picked up a tattered leather purse from the ground.
"Here," Arin said, brushing the dust off before handing it over.
The woman's hands shook as she took it. "Oh, child… thank you. Those awful men—they would have taken everything."
Arin shrugged, trying to play it off. "They won't be bothering you again. Not tonight, anyway."
But the old woman reached forward, cupping Arin's hand in both of hers. Her grip was surprisingly strong. "No one else would have stepped in. You… you're brave."
For a moment, Arin froze. Brave. The word lingered, pulling at something deep in her chest—something tied to a forest, a night of running, voices shouting in the dark.
She forced a smile, slipping her hand free. "Just… get home safe, alright?"
The woman nodded, clutching the purse close as she hobbled away.
Left alone in the alley, Arin let her smile fade. Her eyes drifted to the shadows again, the same place she always looked, as though something still lingered out there.
She drew a steadying breath, muttering to herself, "Brave doesn't mean fearless."
Then she pulled her hood up, disappearing into the city night