Page 29 of The Wild Hunt

I stare, unable to move. This isn’t happening. Itcan’tbe happening.

But then his claws graze my shoulder, slicing through my dress, digging into my skin. The pain is sharp, electric, and just like the burning markings, it feels so horribly real. A surge of adrenaline hits me, and I twist away, my body acting on pure instinct. The hounds growl and snap vicious teeth at me as I dash into the thick trees, veering off the path. If he wants to catch me, he’ll have to leave his horse behind.

The sound of hooves thunders behind me, the low growls of the hounds growing louder, closer. I’m running on pure instinct now, my legs moving of their own accord, each breath a ragged gasp as my chest burns. The shadows seem to stretch, reaching for me, and the ground feels like it’s shifting beneath my feet. The forest is alive, twisting, bending, conspiring against me. The hounds howl again, and I hear the rush of wings, but I can’t see the birds through the trees.

My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. I don’t know how much longer I can keep going, but I don’t dare stop. I can feel The Hunt closing in, the shadows pressing around me. Scrambling to remember the old stories, I know The Wild Hunt never stops, the Huntsman always catches his prey. And deep down, I know—there’s no escaping it. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to make it easy.

My foot slips on the damp earth, and I barely manage to stay upright. The pain from the Huntsman’s claws lingers on my shoulder, a throbbing reminder of who and what hunted me.Keep running.I force the thought into my mind like a mantra. My lungs scream for air, my legs ache, but I can’t stop. Not yet. The branches whip against my face, and the sharp sting jolts me into clarity.

The pain isn’t just in my imagination; it’s carved into me. Whatever this is, whatever nightmare I’ve been plunged into, I can’t deny it anymore. It’s real. And I am trapped in it.

The rider’s presence feels like a weight pressing down on me, even though I can’t see him through the trees. But I know he’s there. I can sense him, a dark shadow lingering on the edge of my awareness, always just behind me.

Suddenly, the ground dips, and I nearly lose my footing. The trees grow denser, the branches thicker, but I push forward, veering further off the path. If I stay predictable, I’ll be easy prey. And he is right, I am just prey.

If this is my fate, I’ll fight it with every last ounce of strength I have.

Maybe the forest will hide me. Maybe I can lose them.

The hope is faint, but it’s all I have. I push myself harder, my breath ragged in the stillness of the woods as I move through the tight gaps. The sounds of pursuit are growing quieter, fainter. Could I really be getting away? The forest around me is thick, tangled—maybe, just maybe, it’s throwing them off.

I see a dip in the ground behind a rotting tree trunk lying across the forest floor. Without thinking, I dive toward it, sliding behind the decaying wood. My chest heaves as I press myself flat, trying to make myself small and silent. Every inhale burns, my breath loud in my ears, but I force myself to calm down, listening for the hounds, for any sign of the Huntsman. The forest here is darker, denser than any part I’ve ventured into before. The air feels thick, like the trees themselves are closing in, watching.

Then, without warning, a bolt of lightning rips across the sky, illuminating the forest in a brief flash. I catch glimpses of the tangled branches overhead through the small gaps between the trees. The thunder follows soon after, a deafening crack that shakes the ground beneath me. A charge lingers in the air, sharp and electric, the smell of ozone suddenly overpowering. Another distant rumble vibrates through the earth, and I cling to the thought—maybe the storm will drown out my sounds. Maybe it will wash away my scent. Maybe they won’t be able to hear me.

But then again, I won’t be able to hear them either.

The first heavy drops of rain start to fall, but the thick canopy above shelters me. Only a few stray droplets manage to sneak through, landing in soft plinks on the damp forest floor. I shift slightly, trying to get more comfortable when I feel something hit my ankle. At first, I think it’s just the rain, but then I realize the sensation is wrong. It’s heavier, moving against my skin.

Confused, I glance down, my breath catching in my throat. The next lightning strike flashes through the sky, and in that brief light, I see it—a vine. A thorny, dark vine, coiling slowly, deliberately, around my ankle. I reach down to touch it, hoping it’s just a trick of the dark, but the moment my fingers brush it, pain shoots through my hand as one of the thorns pierces the skin. I hiss, jerking back, and as the light fades, my heart seizes in terror.

The vine moves, tightening its grip.

A scream tears from my throat before I can stop it, the sound breaking through the steady patter of rain. The hounds start growling and howling again, closer than I thought they were. The vine, no longer bothering with stealth, begins to dig its thorns deeper into my ankle, twisting as if it’s alive. I try to pull away, but the thorns bite into my flesh, tearing the skin as I yank my leg free. The pain is sharp, burning, but I force myself to ignore it. I can’t stay here.

I scramble to my feet, stumbling over the uneven ground as I lurch forward, adrenaline surging through my veins. My leg throbs where the thorns had torn into it, blood dripping down, but I don’t stop. I can’t.I have to keep moving.

“You know you can’t escape me, little prey. Come back and let me play with you.”

The Huntsman’s voice echoes through the trees, a dark, mocking whisper carried on the wind. My heart skips a beat, fear tightening its icy grip around my chest. I whimper, the sound barely escaping my lips as I push forward, limbs trembling from exhaustion and pain. Every step feels heavier than the last, my body dragging, but I can’t let him catch me. I won’t.

I struggle through the dense underbrush, my breath coming in ragged gasps, the weight of The Hunt pressing down on me like a suffocating shroud. The branches scratch at my skin, and I feel the sharp sting of each thorny vine that reaches out, as if tryingto pull me back into the depths of the forest. I glance back over my shoulder, half-expecting to see the glowing red eyes of the hounds or the Huntsman looming just behind me, but all I see is darkness, deep and consuming.

With the storm rolling in, I force myself to focus. I need to keep moving, to stay ahead of whatever is hunting me. The world around me is a chaotic blur of shadow and sound—the distant thunder rumbling like a warning, the rain pelting down, and the rustle of leaves that feels almost like whispers urging me to turn back. I push through the fear, using it to fuel my legs, each step a defiance against the fate that feels so close.

As I stumble deeper into the forest, I can’t shake the memories of my dreams, the vivid images of Cianán and the way he controlled the vines as if they were extensions of himself. Were those dreams actually real? Is this Cianán, is he The Huntsman? Or is it someone else who has that same strange ability?

“Where are you running to, little prey?” The Huntsman’s voice slithers through the trees, teasing and taunting, sending a fresh wave of panic through me. “Nothing will save you from me.”

I see an opening ahead, a glimmer of hope that sends a rush of adrenaline through me. My heart soars at the thought of salvation, of finding refuge from the terror that chases me. With a surge of determination, I burst from the suffocating embrace of the forest and into the open air.

Just as I do, a bolt of lightning slashes across the darkened sky, illuminating the scene in a stark flash. In that moment, I catch a glimpse of the masked Huntsman standing before me, his imposing figure silhouetted against the stormy backdrop, an ominous shadow standing directly in my path.

A sinister laugh echoes in the air, cold and mocking, sending chills racing down my spine. My instincts scream at me to stop, to take cover, but the ground beneath my feet betrays me. Mud and rain-slicked leaves conspire to send me skidding, and Istruggle to regain my footing as I desperately scramble to change direction.

Suddenly, I see him raise a hand, and in a heartbeat, a dark vine whips through the air, curling over his shoulder with a life of its own. It lunges toward me, sharp thorns glinting as terror grips me like a vice. Without thinking, I pivot and run in the opposite direction, my heart pounding in my chest. I don’t dare look back.

But he was right. There is no escaping him. The vine moves swiftly and wraps around my throat like a noose, its grip tightening with a cruel precision. My feet lose their grip on the ground, my momentum carrying me forward, and in an instant, I’m yanked off balance, crashing to the earth. The wind is knocked from my lungs as the vine constricts, leaving me gasping, trapped in a living nightmare.

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