Page 10 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

Everything is so alive, so vibrant, it almost makes my eyes hurt with the intensity of it. Ferns unfurl their delicate fronds at the base of the trees, and tiny purple wildflowers peek through the undergrowth. The air itself seems to shimmer with life—insects buzzing between patches of light, a spider’s web glistening with dew between two branches.

I’ve never seen anything so raw, so untamed. So free. But as my eyes track from tree to identical tree, that vastness starts to press in.There’s no path, no markers, nothing but green stretching endlessly in every direction. The beauty that captivated me moments ago now feels like it could swallow me whole. The thought pushes me to hyperventilate, but I force it down. Better lost in this wild beauty than trapped in that truck, being delivered to my new “master”.

A twig snaps somewhere behind me, and reality crashes back. My pulse skips, panic forming a ball in my throat. I turn my head slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. For a few moments, I don’t see anything. And then, there through the trees, I catch a glimpse of russet fur as a deer picks its way through the undergrowth, completely unaware of my presence. The sight of it—so peaceful, vulnerable, but so free—makes a hollow longing spread beneath my ribs.

That’s exactly what I want. Peace. Freedom. A chance to live my life without the constraints of my designation weighing down on me. Without being constantly reminded that I’munwanted.

But I can’t stay here. The deer’s presence is a reminder that I need to keep moving. Where there’s one animal, there might be hunters. And the Reform Academy’s goons are probably already combing the forest. I have to keep moving.

But which way?

Pushing off from the tree, I start moving again, slower this time. My feet are bleeding, I realize, leaving tiny crimson marks on the moss. Need to be more careful. Need to think. The Academy might have tried to train the fight out of me, but they couldn’t erase the survival instincts I learned long before they got their hands on me.

Walking backward for a few steps, I drag my feet through the moss, trying to obscure the blood trails. It’s awkward with my hands still bound, but I manage. Then I turn and pick my way forward, more deliberately now, choosing each step with care. I don't know these woods, but I know what I’m running from. That’s enough.

So, I force my trembling legs to carry me forward.

Soon, shadows begin to stretch longer between the trees, making me stumble more often. Each root and stone finds my raw feet, but I barely feel the new cuts anymore. Everything below my ankles has become one dull throb. Step. Breathe. Step again. My world narrows to this rhythm, to the next tree I have to pass.

Only the light betrays how far I’ve come, shifting from harsh white to honey-gold through the leaves. When I tilt my head back, searching for direction, the sky burns rose pink through gaps in the canopy. My legs shake with each step now, and the air feels too thick to pull into my burning lungs. But I can’t stop. Not yet. Not while there’s still light to see by.

When I stumble across a small stream, the sound of running water nearly brings me to tears. I collapse to my knees beside it, the cool moss a balm against my battered skin. Drinking is awkward with my hands still bound and I know I’ll have to figure out a way to cut these ropes, but for now, I can only focus on drinking.

Leaning forward, I nearly fall face-first into the crystal-clear water. But the first taste of it on my parched tongue makes every undignified moment worth it.

The water is sweet and cold, tasting of minerals and earth. I drink until my stomach aches, knowing I should probably pace myself but unable to stop. Who knows when I’ll find water again? Each swallow feels like life itself flowing back into my depleted body.

As I catch my breath, I watch the stream’s surface ripple and dance, breaking the fading sunlight into a thousand glittering pieces. The day is dying, and with it, my strength. But I can’t stop here. Can’t rest. Not yet.

So I push myself up on tired legs, forcing myself onward as the forest grows darker around me.

By the time the last light has almost faded, I can hardly see where I’m going through the utter exhaustion.

The sun has almost set when I spot it—a flash of metal through the trees. At first, I think it’s them, the betas from the Academy, butas I creep closer, I realize it’s a fence. Tall, chain-link, stretching as far as I can see in either direction through the deepening twilight.

I blink hard, trying to focus on the metal links swimming before my eyes. Property line? But which side am I on? The exhaustion makes it hard to think straight, my thoughts as tangled as my matted hair.

But I know I can’t stay on this side. Whatever lies beyond that fence has to be better than what’s behind me.

With my hands bound at my back, the fence mocks me. But I have to try. I back up against the metal links, fumbling to hook my raw fingers through them. My legs shake just standing here.Deep breath. One foot up. My arms take my weight and fire shoots through my shoulders. Another step. The wire bites deeper into my already bleeding wrists.

I slip. My spine scrapes down the fence, my bound hands crushed between metal and bone. Stars burst behind my eyes, but I cling on, chest heaving. Can’t fall. Can’t stop. Up again. Each inch is a battle, my muscles spasming, sweat or blood trickling down my arms. I slip again, catching myself with the backs of my legs braced against the links, shoulders wrenched so far I think they might tear.

By the time I reach the top, I’m gasping for air, my whole body trembling. I can’t feel my hands anymore. Getting over means letting go. Means trusting my body to twist in the air when I can barely remember which way is down. I’ll have to throw myself backward, praying I can twist enough mid-air to land on my feet.

Do it.

For one terrifying moment, I’m falling, the world spinning around me.

I hit the ground hard, landing awkwardly on my side. Pain explodes through my hip and shoulder and a cry escapes before I can bite it back. I can’t move. Just have to lie there for a moment, trying to breathe through the agony. Pine needles and damp earth press against my cheek and my body sinks deeper into the forestfloor with each ragged breath, like the ground itself is trying to cradle me. The sweet, rotting scent of dead leaves fills my nose, and my eyelids grow heavier with each slow blink. Just a moment’s rest…just one moment to let the pain ebb. It would be so easy to just close my eyes…

But I can’t. Not here. Not yet.

My palms press into the earth, trembling as I try to lever myself up. The world tilts and spins. Back down. Try again. This time I roll to my knees first, waiting out the wave of nausea that follows. Every heartbeat sends fresh pain through my hip. Standing takes three attempts, and when I finally make it, I have to lean against a tree until the black spots clear from my vision.

One foot forward. Then another. Each step sends jolts of fire up my leg, but I force myself to keep moving. Through the growing darkness, I notice the forest changing—fewer branches catching at my clothes, more space between the trees. The ground feels different too, less wild somehow. Like someone’s been tending it.

That’s when I see it.

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