Scarlett Romero has spent her entire life as an ordinary citizen; going to school, getting a job and definitely not killing people in the middle of the woods on a Friday night.
Until one Friday night, she does.
All she can remember is acting out of...
Who we are And who we need to be To survive are two Very different things.
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Chapter Twenty-Six "The Beginning of Our End"
Scarlett's POV:
The forest gets thicker and harder to trudge through as the sun sets. The trees twist and turn into piles of gnarled roots and leering branches; the bushes itch and scratch against my legs; and the ground catches us on reaching rocks and pits of dirt.
With Monica unconscious, Kylie and I are reliant on Alexander's lycanthrope instincts to lead us to safety. Alexander pulls us to a halt at a small clearing, when the glow of dusk has fallen victim to the faint white light of a crescent moon.
The clearing is nothing but an opening of trees, paving the way for a small, shallow pool of water stained a mouldy green. It's surrounded by mud and small pieces of rotten wood, the sound of our heavy breathing drowning the creaking frogs and chirping crickets.
I sink to my knees, too exhausted to be squeamish of the dirt clinging to my skin. My injuries from the explosion have only gotten worse over time, stinging with the wind and every brush of a leaf. My head pounds relentlessly, my face and neck encased with dried blood.
"Scarlett," Alexander utters, glowing eyes alight with pity as he stares down at Monica. "She's not breathing."
I pause for a moment, just one, before staggering over to him. I can't bring myself to my feet, and the mud sinks under my nails as I crawl over to them. Alexander settles Monica next to the swampy pool, and I watch her, waiting for her chest to rise. It doesn't.
"Use the water," Kylie mutters quickly, ripping off part of her shirt and wrapping it around a bleeding cut on her arm. "Water has healing properties; it will heal her wound faster. If you can stitch the skin back together and stop the bleeding, she'll make it. The forest won't let her die."
I swallow thickly – it's all well and good to tell me to use the water to heal, but I've only ever used the elements to destroy. Alexander and I share a glance, and I don't need to voice my concerns aloud for him to understand them.
Still, I take a deep breath and, ignoring the disgust lingering in the back of my mind, I kneel in the water. There's something squishy under me, and I swear something moves against my calf, but I do my best to ignore it.
I rest my hands over Monica's stomach and think hard about the water. Small waves flutter around me, the whispers of the element taunting me. My brow furrows, nails curling into a small cage around the still bleeding gunshot wound.
Heal, I tell the water, but it doesn't listen. Anxiety wraps itself around my chest and I gulp audibly. If I wait too long, Monica won't have a chance of surviving. She's already dead, and the forest can only do so much for its resident nymphs.
