The forest swallowed me whole.

Cold air burned my lungs as I sprinted through the trees, bare feet slapping against old roots and damp earth. My nightshirt snagged on low branches, ripping at the hem, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.

Not when I knew what happened if the riders caught me.

In my first life, I hadn't tried to run. I'd believed the elders when they said, "The Alpha King only wants to meet the chosen."

Fools.

Liars.

Or victims, just like me.

I pushed the memories down before they drowned me again.

I had a second chance. And I intended to use it.

Behind me, the faint echo of hooves drifted through the trees. The riders weren't close yet, but they were trained hunters-loyal to Draven and skilled at tracking scents, footprints, fear.

The hum under my skin from earlier still tingled faintly, strange and unsettling. It wasn't painful-just... alert. Awake. Like something inside me recognized danger and was testing its reach.

Not a full awakening.

Not a shift.

Just the smallest whisper of power I never had in my first life.

I slowed only when I reached the old moss-covered boulder at the forest's edge-the one I used to climb as a child. My breathing was ragged, but I forced myself to focus.

Think, Elyra.

Where can you go?

The village was behind me. The capital was far to the north. The border lands were too dangerous, even in the old timeline. That left-

The river.

If I followed the river downstream, there was a half-collapsed hunter's cabin on the far side of the marsh. In my first life, my brother and I hid there during a storm. It was abandoned, forgotten... and safely outside the easy patrol routes.

Unless this timeline had shifted more than I realized.

A gust of wind rushed through the trees, carrying the scent of horses and leather.

Close.

Too close.

I slipped behind the boulder just as two riders appeared through the darkness, their torches casting long, twitching shadows across the forest floor.

"Search the west side," one ordered. "The King said the girl ran toward the trees."

My stomach twisted.

He didn't say my name.

He said the girl.

That alone was different.

In my first life, they had known me by name before I even stepped outside my door. This time... Draven must not have all the information yet.

Good.

I needed every advantage I could get.

The second rider swung his torch toward the ground. "Footprints."

I froze.

His horse pawed at the dirt. "She's barefoot. Can't be far."

They nudged their mounts forward, following the prints that led deeper into the forest-away from the river.

A small miracle.

I waited until their torches dimmed into nothing but flickers between the trees. Only then did I let out the breath I'd been holding.

I pressed a shaky hand to my chest.

Calm.

Focus.

Move.

The river wasn't far. If I cut right, stayed low, and avoided snapping branches, I could reach it before the riders circled back.

I stepped forward-

And my foot slid in the mud.

I caught myself on the boulder, but my palm slapped against the stone hard enough to sting. The faint hum under my skin flickered again, warm and quick, before fading.

"What are you trying to do to me?" I muttered under my breath, flexing my fingers. Whatever was inside me wasn't fully awake, but it wasn't asleep either.

I didn't have time to figure it out.

I darted toward the river, weaving between trunks, careful and quick. When I finally heard the rush of water, relief nearly buckled my knees.

I'd made it.

Moonlight glimmered across the river's surface. I crouched low, peering through the reeds. No torches. No hoofbeats. Nothing but the whisper of water meeting stone.

Good.

One step at a time, I waded in.

The shock of cold nearly knocked the air from my lungs, but I kept moving until I was deep enough to cross without leaving clear tracks on the other side.

My nightshirt clung to my skin like ice. My teeth chattered.

I told myself it didn't matter.

I'd chosen a path Draven wouldn't expect.

Because in my first life, I never ran.

I never tried to survive.

I never made myself unpredictable.

This time, I would.

By the time I dragged myself onto the far bank, every inch of me trembled. Water dripped from my hair and clothes, but I kept moving, forcing my stiff legs to carry me toward the marshland.

If the cabin existed in this timeline, I'd find it. If not-

I swallowed.

Then I'd improvise.

The forest grew thicker as I pushed deeper into the marsh. Frog calls replaced the crackle of branches. The mud sucked at my feet with every step, slowing me down.

But then-

There.

Just barely visible through the cattails.

A slanted roof.

Broken wood.

The silhouette of a familiar, forgotten shelter.

Relief almost made me collapse.

I hurried to the cabin, slipped inside, and closed the old warped door behind me. Dust coated the broken table. A nest of leaves lay where a bed once was.

Safe enough for now.

I curled up in the driest corner, hugging my knees to my chest.

My body shook from cold and adrenaline. My mind spun with fear and memory. My heart thudded painfully, like it wasn't convinced this second life was real.

But one truth grounded me:

This time, Draven wouldn't find me so easily.

And I would never again let the Alpha King decide my fate.

I woke to the thin gray light of dawn pressing through the cracks in the cabin walls. My teeth still chattered from the river crossing, but the night's panic had dulled into a heavy ache in my limbs.

I sat up slowly, rubbing at the raw skin on my arms. Everything hurt. My feet were numb. My throat felt tight from breathing cold air for hours.

But I was alive.

Alive in a timeline where I wasn't yet claimed, caged, or condemned.

I pushed myself to my feet and peered out a narrow gap in the wall. Mist clung to the marsh, thick and quiet. No torches. No riders. No sign of pursuit.

They must have turned back before reaching the water.

Good.

I wrapped my arms around myself. First priority: warmth.

Second: food.

Third: find a place to hide long-term.

In my first life, I survived on fear.

In this one, I needed strategy.

I stepped outside, careful not to snap the rotting wood under my feet. The morning chill cut straight through my damp clothes. I scanned the treeline, listening.

Only birdsong.

I crouched beside a patch of tall grasses, searching the ground for anything useful. A few edible roots still grew here. I dug some up, wiped the dirt off, and forced myself to eat slowly.

My stomach twisted-too much tension, too little food-but I needed the strength.

When I finished, I wiped my hands on the grass and stood.

The kingdom was huge. Draven's men couldn't search every corner, not for one runaway girl. But they'd sweep the roads, the villages, the riverbanks.

I needed to disappear where no one would think to look.

The eastern mountains.

Abandoned wolf lands.

No patrols. Few travelers. Dangerous terrain-but safer than Draven.

My heart hammered at the thought of him.

The coldness in his eyes as he put a blade through me.

The flat, emotionless way he said, "Traitors don't get second chances."

I swallowed hard.

"I'm not giving you a first one this time," I whispered.

Wind stirred the marsh grass. Somewhere distant, a raven cawed.

I stepped back into the cabin, grabbed a long fallen branch to use as a walking stick, and tightened the torn edges of my nightshirt into knots at my waist.

It wouldn't last long. I'd need clothing, supplies, anything I could scavenge.

But for now, I moved.

One step out of the cabin.

Then another.

Then deeper into the marsh, towards the one future I refused to repeat.

Two hours into my trek, I found them.

Rider tracks.

Deep grooves in the mud, fresh and sharp. The prints curved along the higher ground-meaning they had searched closer to the marsh than I thought.

My pulse spiked.

I crouched low, scanning the area. The tracks moved south, toward the main road. They hadn't crossed into the marsh itself. Good.

But if they were expanding their search radius...

It meant Draven wasn't giving up.

The realization slithered coldly down my spine.

I forced myself to keep moving, carefully stepping only where the mud was firm enough not to leave prints. My legs trembled from exhaustion, but I pushed forward.

The marsh thinned into dense forest by midday. Shafts of sunlight broke through the canopy, warming my skin just enough to stop the shivering.

I paused by a fallen log and peeled my wet nightshirt away from my arms. It had dried unevenly-stiff in some places, still damp in others.

I wrinkled my nose.

If I had to meet anyone like this, I'd look like a half-drowned ghost.

My stomach tightened at the thought of meeting anyone. I couldn't trust villagers-not when rumors about a "marked girl" would spread fast.

I needed solitude. Distance. Quiet.

I pushed deeper into the woods.

Birds scattered as I passed. Branches crackled under my feet. The faint hum under my skin flickered again-like a heartbeat that wasn't entirely mine.

But nothing else happened. No visions. No surges. No bond tugging.

Good.

The less fate stirred, the better.

By late afternoon, I found a small stream and knelt to drink. The cold water soothed my dry throat. I splashed some on my face, scrubbing away dried mud and leaves.

My reflection wavered in the ripples-tired eyes, tangled hair, dirt streaking my cheeks.

Pitiful.

But alive.

As I pushed back to my feet, the faint crunch of leaves snapped through the trees.

I froze.

Not horses.

Not riders.

Footsteps.

Someone-on foot-moving cautiously.

Too close.

I ducked behind a tree, pressing my back to the bark. My breath went thin and silent.

The footsteps drew nearer.

Closer.

Then a voice-young, hesitant.

"...Hello?"

My heart jumped painfully.

Not a rider.

Not a soldier.

A child.

I peeked around the trunk.

A boy, maybe ten years old, stood at the edge of the stream with a fishing pole over his shoulder. He wore patchy clothes and no shoes, his hair sticking up wildly.

He scanned the trees with wide, unsure eyes.

"Is someone there?"

I swallowed.

I could step out. Ask for help. Beg for food or directions.

But the wrong word could ruin everything. Kids talked. Parents listened. Villagers gossiped.

And one whisper reaching the wrong ears could send soldiers straight to me.

I held my breath as the boy slowly backed away, eyes still darting through the trees.

When he disappeared down a narrow trail, I sagged against the bark.

Too close.

I couldn't risk running into anyone again.

I turned away from the stream and headed toward the darker part of the woods, where fewer people walked and more predators roamed.

Predators were easier to deal with than kings.