Page 66 of Cursed Shadows 4

The mossy overgrowth of raised earth looms ahead.

Fleetingly, I think it must be a long-fallen tree, like the one that saved me in the river.

I drop to my knees and skid underneath it. My spine arches all the way back, my body folded the wrong way, and the moss tickles my nose as I skid under.

I flip onto my boots once I’ve cleared it.

I don’t break pace.

Thank the gods for my love of dancing.

It’s already saved my life.

But I’m not free yet.

The distant punishing sound of bootsteps chases me.

I don’t have a direction.

I lost my sense of direction.

All I know is I’ve run into the lush green of the forest. It might lead me back to the riverbank, the waterfall, or to where I found Ridge, or to the snow and ice incline of the mountain.

If I make it…

Beneath my boots, the terrain is uneven and full of trickery. Exposed roots curve up from the dirt and attempt to trip me. It’s successful with one of the litalves chasing me—I guess that when I hear the shout of surprise and the hard smack of impact.

I don’t look over my shoulder.

I run up the trail, then cut left when the trees are at their thickest and there’s a cloud draped in thick mist.

I hope to disappear.

I pray for it.

Again, I pray to the gods.

I ask for yet another favour.

But I have been given so many, I doubt more is on offer.

Still, I pray, and I hope, but I don’t stay idle.

I chase the fog.

It is quick to swallow me.

My boots slap on the dampening earth. Each pounding bootfall is wobblier, softer, and so I know I’m nearing the misty air near the river.

I’m headed right for it.

If I keep at this pace, in this direction, I’ll fall over the edge of the cliff—and nothing will save me from that plummet.

There’s nothing else for me to do.

I cut left and delve deeper into the cloud. It’s so thick that, if I lifted my hand in front of my face, I would barely see the outline, and so I know this is my chance.

Not to flee. Not escape.

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