The cold bit harder than fangs as Mira staggered between snow-laced trees. She had lost the trail hours ago, if there ever was one. Her boots were soaked through, the leather stiff with ice. Her hands ached from the cold. Her fingers had gone numb so long ago she feared she’d lost them. But still, she walked. One step. Then another. Then another.
Her hood flapped in the wind, tugging loose. Snow clung to her lashes, melting into the corners of her eyes. Her vision blurred. She pressed a palm to her stomach, barely aware of the gesture anymore. Everything hurt. Her ribs, her legs, her feet. The forest didn’t care who she was or where she’d come from.
A branch snapped somewhere in the distance. She didn’t flinch. She had nothing left to fear.
“I’m not afraid,” she muttered to herself, though the words tasted like frostbite on her tongue. “You can’t hurt me now.”
She remembered Ronan’s face from the moon gathering. Distant. Dismissive. Like she was a duty long discarded. That pain throbbed sharper than frostbite. It curled in her chest and lit a fire that burned beneath the weakness. She clung to it.
“You threw me away,” she whispered. “But I’ll survive. I have to.”
Snow soaked through the seams of her leggings. Her thighs trembled. Her feet dragged more than stepped. Every tree looked like the last. Every shadow held a threat. But she didn’t stop. If she stopped, she’d freeze. If she stopped, she’d give him what he wanted.
Her stomach growled loudly, twisting in on itself. She hadn’t eaten since dawn. Not that it mattered. Hunger was just another thing to carry.
“I’ve had worse,” she said aloud, her voice hoarse and brittle. “I’ve survived worse.”
Another howl echoed across the ridge. This one was closer. It wasn’t a full pack cry—it was a warning. A rogue. Alone. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. Her legs kept moving. Her spine stayed straight. She would not fall apart.
“Come out then,” she called to the trees, voice cracked but defiant. “If you’re going to kill me, do it. At least someone will finish what he started.”
The path narrowed between a slope and a thicket of gnarled roots. She stepped carefully, too slowly. Her boot slipped on a patch of ice. The world tilted. She reached out, too late.
Her body hit the ground hard, snow exploding around her. She slid, tumbling halfway down a ridge before her shoulder caught on a rock and jerked her to a stop. Pain shot down her back. She gasped, blinking against a sky gone gray.
“Get up,” she groaned. “Come on, get up.”
Everything felt distant. Muffled. Her body throbbed, but her mind fought to stay present. She rolled onto her side, crawling through crusted snow toward a tree. Her arms shook violently. Her breath came in ragged pulls. She reached the base of a trunk and slumped there, the bark rough against her back.
“I can’t…” Her whisper barely rose above the wind. “No. I can.”
A frozen stream glistened nearby, thin and cracked with frost. If she had the strength, she might have cried. Instead, her head lolled forward. Her breath came in broken gasps.
The wind howled again, more savage now. Her lips barely moved.
“Please, Moon Goddess… let me live,” she whispered. “Just one more day…”
Then, silence. A pause that stretched longer than it should have.
Then, footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Not the frantic shuffle of prey. Not the wild rush of a rogue. She didn’t lift her head, but her body tensed. She could smell the scent now—male, strong, layered with snow, earth, and something darker.
A tall shadow broke through the trees, heavy and sure. A growl rumbled low in the air, deep and warning.
“Who are you?” she rasped, eyes fluttering open.
The man didn’t answer. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate. His silhouette blocked out the sky. Scarred. Massive. Controlled.
“Stay back…” she tried, though her voice faltered. “I’m not… I’m not nothing.”
He crouched slowly, and the last thing she saw before her vision gave way was the burning gold of his eyes, sharp as a blade.
And then—darkness.