Hard. Blind. A desperatepleafor airscorchedmy lungs, while my heartbeatexplodedin my ears,eclipsingthe bellowing shouts that were a chilling reminder of the proximity of the mimickers behind me.
As I stumbled through the forest as fast as my feet could carry me, roots clawed at my boots. Thorns tore at my sleeves. The forest began to blur—just shadows and speed.
Behind us, I heard someone cry out. A crash. More laughter.
They were closer.
I pushed harder, tumbling through brambles, my breath ragged—
Then, my skirts tangled around my legs, and I went down. Hard.
The impact knocked the air from my lungs as the snow slammed into my ribs. Pain burst up my side.
Mud streaked my hands, and stones etched into my palms.
“Damn these skirts,” I hissed, kicking at the fabric. “Who in all the gods’ names thought this was practical?”
The howls grew louder.
I scrambled to rise.
And then suddenly something slammed into me from the side.
It hit like a boulder, knocking me flat onto my back. A weight pressed against my chest, heavy and reeking of rot. Fingers not quite human, clawed at my arms.
A Mimic.
Its face shifted—too smooth, too close to mine, its mouth twisted into a mockery of a smile, disturbing and unnatural.
I screamed, wriggling my body in an attempt to free myself, I drove my elbow as hard as I could into where its ribs should’ve been. It snarled, flinching backward, and I used the moment to wrench myself free, shoving it off with everything I had.
I scrambled to my knees, gasping—
But then it was back, knocking into me with brutal force.
Faster this time, its claws gouging into my cloak, hauling me back down with brutal force.
And then it was back on top of me.
A scream tore from my throat as the Mimic lunged toward my face. Its mask split at the jaw as it shrieked, teeth glinting beneath porcelain. It pinned me, claws digging into my arms. Its breath was hot and sour.
I screamed again, kicking with every ounce of might I had. Without thinking, my dagger came up. I slashed, shallow, but enough to make it reel back—
And then Erindor was there. He struck with brutal force, his blade cleaving straight through the Mimic’s neck. Blood, black and slick, sprayed across the snow. The mask shattered as the body twitched, then stilled.
Erindormovedwith a sudden, decisive urgency. One armsnakedaround my waist, the otherhookedbeneath my legs, and I washeavedonto his shoulder in one fluid motion.
“Hold on,” he growled.
My armslockedaround his waist, my knuckles white, as I desperately held onto him. My heartthunderingagainst his back, a frantic drumbeat against his warmth.
We tore through the woods.Were the others ahead of or behind us?I couldn’t tell. Mimics shrieked all around us.
Then, the sound changed.
We slammedinto a creek, the icy currentlashingat our waists. Erindordidn’t falter; he droveforward, heedless, his bootschurningthe freezing water with powerful, loud splashes.
And then suddenly the shrieks disappeared.
