Branches whipped past her shoulders, some grazing her skin, others bending aside as if the forest itself made room for her. Aleksasha's breath came fast but not strained — each inhale sharp and clean, filled with the scent of pine and frost, of fresh earth torn by pursuit. Her heart thundered in her chest, not with fear, but with exhilaration.
She leapt a narrow creek bed without hesitation, landing sure-footed on the other side, boots sliding slightly on the damp moss before she pushed forward again. Her senses were alive — more than alive. Every sound registered in startling clarity: the whisper of Matias's paws against the forest floor, the rustle of a hare fleeing from their path, the faint stir of owls overhead.
The world had opened itself to her.
Moonlight guided her, spilling down through the canopy in silver ribbons. It kissed the edges of her hair, caught on her sword hilt, and cast fleeting shadows across her face as she ran.
