Aaliyah's Redemption: Bound by Fate ***DISCONTINUED, READ DESCRIPTION***

Prologue

February 28, 1877

The snow fell in thick, heavy sheets, turning the world into a blinding expanse of white. It covered the ground so deeply that each step crunched with a muted resistance. Inside the small cabin, the fire had dwindled to embers, casting faint shadows on the walls, but it was the sound of the wind howling outside that kept her awake.

The woman stared out the frosted window, holding her breath as she caught sight of faint glimmers in the distance—lanterns swaying in the storm. She squinted, heart hammering in her chest, and counted the shapes of horseback. Three, maybe four men, slowly making their way toward her home.

Her fingers tightening around the threadbare blanket draped over her lap, her body stiff with fear. They were getting closer. Panic surged through her veins. She knew what they wanted—she had known this day would come. With a quick, trembling breath, she looked down at her three-year-old daughter, fast asleep by the hearth, her tiny form bundled in a patchwork quilt.

There was no time to think, no time to waste.

She moved swiftly, scooping her daughter up into her arms. "Wake up, darlin'," she whispered softly, brushing a stray curl from the girl's forehead. The child stirred, confused, but didn't protest as her mother hurriedly wrapped her in the coat lying by the chair.

With her own coat pulled tightly around her, the woman darted for the back door, her heart pounding louder than the wind. She pushed it open, the icy air cutting into her skin like knives. The snowstorm was relentless, but the men were relentless, too. She couldn't stay. She wouldn't let them find her daughter.

Grabbing her hand, the woman led the girl through the knee-deep snow toward the old barn, the wind whipping at their faces, making every step a battle. They stumbled inside, and for a brief moment, the silence in the barn felt almost suffocating compared to the roar of the storm.

The aged chestnut gelding stood in the far corner, his breath coming out in soft, cloudy puffs, his brown eyes watching her. "We need ya, boy," she murmured, her fingers working quickly as she lifted the saddle onto his back, tightening the cinches with shaking hands. Her breath came out in ragged gasps, but she didn't stop. She couldn't.

From a nearby hook, she grabbed the worn bridle and slipped it over the horse's face, her hands trembling as she fastened the straps. "Stay close, honey," she said softly to her daughter, who stood quietly in the corner, wide-eyed but silent, sensing the urgency. With a gentle motion, the woman lifted the girl and placed her in front of the saddle. "Hold tight, sweetheart," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the girl's forehead before kissing the gelding's neck. "Take care of us, old boy."

With one final lance toward the house—the only home she had known, now swallowed by the storm—she pulled herself up into the saddle behind her daughter. She adjusted their dresses and long coats, trying to shield the girl from the biting cold, all the while hearing a faint thud of hooves approaching. The men were getting closer. She could see their lanterns, flickering in the darkness, their shapes growing clearer against the snow.

She tightened her grip on her daughter with one arm and took the reins with the other. Her eyes fixed forward—away from the house, away from the men who sought to trap them—and she squeezed her legs, urging the gelding into motion.

The snow was thick beneath them, but the horse moved with a steady determination, his hooves muffled in the blanket of white. As they passed the barn's door, the lanterns glowed brighter, the men's silhouettes ominous in the distance, their horses moving faster.

She took one last look at the place she used to call home, her heart heavy with a mixture of fear and loss, before turning her gaze toward the open plains. Toward freedom.

With a sharp nudge, she pushed the gelding into a canter, the wind whipping against her face as they tore through the snow. She held her daughter tight, her heart pounding in rhythm with the thudding hooves, her only thought: keep going. Don't stop. Keep going.

The storm swallowed them whole as they fled into the night, the sound of the men's pursuit lost to the roar of the wind.