…and suddenly, there were no more trees.
Just a clearing — or at least, that's what it looked like: a pocket carved between the tangled trunks, just enough space to turn around, regain footing, breathe for a second… if they even had that luxury.
Élisa skidded to a halt, slipping slightly on the damp moss. She turned around. The others understood without a word.
The bitter truth had hit, once again: they wouldn't outrun it. Not on terrain this treacherous. Not with that thing chasing them.
She gripped her daggers. The metal nearly slid from her hands — her palms were slick with sweat. And yet, the familiar burn of decision surged through her.
That creature had been hunting them for a while now, relentless, giving them no opening to fight back. No way to close the distance. No chance to strike.
