Chapter 1
The pads of Clover’s feet pounded the ground, the once familiar path blurring beneath her. Her heart beat like a war drum in her ears. Branches whipped by, lashing at the linen of her cloak. She pressed on, every desperate step leaving her no closer than before.
Her lungs burned as she cried out, the words unrecognizable despite coming from her own chest. The figure ahead stumbled before regaining their footing.
Clover squeezed her eyes shut against the searing hot tears. She willed her aching body to cooperate, to run faster, to give just an ounce more strength. But it refused. Her foot tangled with something hard. She fell into the slick litter, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. The smell of copper flooded her nostrils.
She planted her hands beneath her and pushed. Her palms slipped, coming away wet with blood. She tried again to push herself onto trembling legs, but her body refused to move. The figure disappeared, slipping further into the trees.
Clover awoke, jolting forward in her bedroll. For a moment, all she could see was darkness. She blinked hard, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Shapes bled into one another, shifting into focus as her vision adjusted. The campfire had died down to a few bare embers.
A dull ache coursed through her palm. Her claws had sunk deep into her flesh, tiny beads of red splotching her white fur. Between her fingers she clutched a worn red scarf. She loosened her grip, holding the scarf to her chest before she wrapped it around her neck.
She fixed her eyes on the dying fire. Wiping the tears from her face, she crawled over. A hollow thunk rang out as she tossed a few small logs onto the fading coals. She took a careful moment to blow on the embers, watching the fire slowly roar back to life.
“Nightmare?” asked a voice from behind her. “Seemed like a bad one this time. Wanna talk?“
Hazel lounged against the side of her wagon, one leg propped up. Her long brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun, with a few strands falling free across her jawline. She flipped to another page in her book.
Clover turned back to the fire. The flames lapped at the edges of a log half engulfed. “You’re going to strain your eyes like that. Reading in the dark.” She pulled her knees to her chest, watching as the log was slowly consumed.
Hazel sighed. “Get over here. I don’t want you burning up in the fire.”
Clover hesitated before taking a spot next to Hazel. The faint smell of cedar drifted towards her as she approached. Hazel had always smelled like that. Clover breathed it in, letting it settle in her lungs.
Hazel picked at the worn edges of the book’s cover. She closed it, setting it down beside her, and took a deep breath. The crackle of the embers broke the silence between them.
Clover leaned her head against Hazel’s shoulder, pulling her knees to her chest once more. Her small body disappeared under her cloak. “It’s just cold,” she muttered.
Hazel didn’t push back. She shifted her shoulder down, offering a warm place to lean. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do if you find him?”
Clover ran her fingers absentmindedly across the fibers of her scarf. “I don’t know. Maybe he knows something I don’t. But, whatever it is… if it helps me stop feeling like… like this?” She took a deep breath before continuing. “…I’ll figure it out.”
Hazel picked up her book once more. The spine creaked as she opened it, flipping to a marked page, the corner dog-eared. Clover’s gaze drifted downward. The words were scarcely visible in the dim light.
A romance novel? ...She would’ve spoiled the ending by now…
Clover’s throat tightened. She looked towards the horizon, where a small orange glow flickered. “How much longer do we have before we reach West Haven?”
Hazel flipped to the next page in her book. “About a week.”
