By The Moon's Blade

Interlude 1: 30th of Frostbite, Close to Daybreak

I'm not really sure what I'm seeing anymore. I'm running, but there's no landscape around. I know there are trees, I keep running into enough of them. It's so dark and the very dim moonlight is just casting shadows from the branches onto the earth below. I look above and all I can see is the same branches that have been puncturing the sky since I first entered the forest.

My breath is still attempting to hold strong despite each quick step and obstacle avoided. At this point, nothing but adrenaline is running through my veins, keeping me from completely stopping in my tracks.

But as I run, I start to think back to every word my mother said. I hang on to every flicker of anger in her eyes, every flare of worry in her bones, and every verbal lash of frustration that she let loose in my direction. And I start to doubt myself.

I did hear a voice, but how much can I trust it?

Was it even real?

If it was real, why did it tell me to just run?

And why on earth did I blindly follow?

I start to think back to the moment we left Cloudridge, that night she first ran into my room in a panic, telling me that we needed to leave as soon as possible. I thought about how worried I was for her, that everything she was doing seemed to be based around some invisible curse. I tried to understand, but I just couldn't. In my eyes, there was no monster and nothing to fight. And when I looked into the eyes of my father in the corner of the room, we both decided that this too would pass.

And then, I remembered that she was right. She was right about everything. We were in danger, I just didn't know it at the time, and I should have trusted her more. I shouldn't have doubted her but that seed was planted in my mind, with roots deeply embedded into each wrinkle of my brain.

I quickly glance back and I see nothing, though it's hard to see much of anything with this darkness. But I take a chance and slow down my pace. I know that I won't get very far if I keep running at full steam. Consumed by fear, I didn't notice that my breathing had become so labored in the past few minutes and my body was screaming for rest.

I walk with my hands resting on the crown of my head. I swivel my head around constantly, never staying in the same place for too long. My eyes are tracing the trees from top to bottom in every direction. The trees sway in the wind and mock me, cackling at my unease. Every time a branch moves, my head whips around with a jolt of panic.

And still, the trees glow with a barely visible deep red, sap dripping down like blood. I pass by several more towering firs and as I look closer at one in particular, I notice a familiar resinous drip running down the smooth wood. In that moment, my heart sinks to the bottom of my chest and I realize that I've just made a loop almost to where I started. I take the crystalline knife from my bag and bitterly gouge a pointed circle into the wood. I make this a habit and every few trees, I take a second to carve another pointed circle to help guide my path.

I don't know how I've come this far without being snatched into a set of fearsome jaws. I mutter words of thanks to my mother and continue trudging along in the bracing cold. I'm thankful I grabbed my coat, but the thin clothing underneath gives no warmth. So along with the feeling of devastation and fear, I'm also colder than I've ever been. I would give anything in this world just to feel warm again.

I wiggle my toes within my boots, which I thankfully remembered to slip on, and I feel a slight brushing of skin together but the numbness has taken almost every bit feeling from my feet. I think about slowing down but just as I place a marker on a tree and lean my body against the sturdy wood, I hear a branch fracture the air around me, a heavier break than any I've heard recently. I take the cue and start picking up the pace, just in time to hear the sound of eager panting behind my back.