Page 17 of Run Little Omega

"How do you know this?"

"I listen." Not entirely a lie. I've spent years collecting scraps of information about the Bloodmoon Forest, piecing together maps from travelers' tales and Fergus's restricted knowledge. "Follow the morning star tomorrow when you run. Don't stop until you reach water. If an alpha corners you before you reach safety, remember what Flora said—don't fight the knot, but do protect your neck. Turn your head to the side to keep the major vessels away from their teeth."

Hope flickers across her face—dangerous, maybe, but better than the empty resignation I'd seen before. She nods once, a gesture of such solemn determination that my heart twists painfully. In another life, this girl might have been a healer, a teacher, a mother. Instead, she's prey, her future measured in hours rather than decades.

I move on before our interaction draws attention, approaching Carrie next. The unremarkable seamstress sits with her hands folded in her lap, gray eyes fixed on nothing. Unlike Mira's terror or Flora's calculated serenity, Carrie radiates pure acceptance. She's already surrendered to whatever comes.

"Your cloak is coming loose," I say by way of introduction, using the excuse to settle beside her and adjust the ceremonial white fabric. As I do, I slip another iron token into her sleeve, along with a small parchment containing hastily drawn landmarks.

"The western stream forks around a lightning-struck tree," I whisper. "Follow it upstream to find a cave entrance hidden behind a curtain of silver vines. It leads to one of the seven havens. If you're caught before reaching it, go limp rather than rigid during claiming. Tensed muscles tear more easily, especially during the knot expansion. And if you're claimed by multiple alphas?—"

"Stop." Her voice cuts through mine, surprisingly firm for someone who appeared so defeated moments ago. "I appreciate the intentions behind your advice, but I've made my peace. This was always my fate from the moment I presented as an omega."

I study her face, searching for any crack in her resignation, any sign of rebellion. Finding none, I ask, "Why are you here? Really?"

"Why does anyone end up here? Bad luck. Poor family. Wrong biology." She shrugs. "My village needed the compensation. I had no special skills or prospects. The math was simple."

A cold calculation, but one I understand too well. Border villages operate on brutal pragmatism—individual lives weighed against collective survival. How many would my own life in Thornwick have saved if I'd registered as omega at twelve instead of hiding with Fergus's help?

"Take the token anyway," I insist. "You might change your mind when the Hunt begins."

She accepts it with a half-smile that holds no real hope. "There are no chances in the Hunt. Only time borrowed with interest we can't repay."

Before I can respond, a commotion near the tent entrance draws everyone's attention. The Spring Court emissary arrives, flower-petal skin glimmering in the lamplight as she announces the evening curfew. Guards appear at regular intervals around the tent's perimeter—not to keep dangers out, but to ensure we remain within.

"Return to your sleeping areas," the emissary instructs, her musical voice belying the command's finality. "Rest well. Dawn approaches quickly."

We're herded toward sleeping pallets arranged in neat rows at the tent's far end. Being close to each other should be comforting, but all the omegas are so wound tight that the fear only spreads. Some omegas cling to each other, forming protective clusters that will be torn apart within hours. Others isolate themselves, already preparing for the solitude of the chase.

I claim a pallet near the edge, giving me clear sightlines to both exits and the majority of tributes. The straw mattress crackles beneath my weight, the sound loud in the growing quiet. Around me, whispered prayers and muffled sobs create a strange night song.

Flora arranges herself gracefully on a nearby pallet, her platinum hair braided tightly for sleep. Even this seems performative, as if she’s keeping her beauty intact for the morning, so she catches the right alpha’s eyes. When she catches me watching, she offers an enigmatic smile.

"The first time always hurts the most," she whispers, just loud enough for me to hear. "But after that, you learn to separate your mind from your body. You exist somewhere else while they take what they need." Her perfect composure finally cracks, revealing the frightened girl beneath the careful training. "I hope you find that place quickly, Willow of Thornwick."

I lie back, staring at the tent's peaked ceiling where strange shadows dance in the lamplight. Sleep seems ridiculous given what awaits us at dawn, yet my body craves rest after days of tension. The iron tokens remaining against my thigh press into my muscle, a comforting reminder of my preparation.

My thoughts drift to Willow, hopefully still safely unconscious in Thornwick. By now, Thaddeus must have discovered the deception. I wonder if he's relieved or horrified—to find his daughter alive but another in her place, walking willingly toward the doom meant for her. I hope someday he'll understand why I couldn't watch her die when I had the strength to take her place.

"Willow," a voice whispers from the darkness. "Are you awake?"

I turn to find Sera, the omega with silver-white hair and strangely patterned skin, kneeling beside my pallet. Her eyes reflect lamplight with unusual intensity, her expression determined.

"What is it?" I whisper.

She glances around before leaning closer. "You've been giving away iron tokens."

My muscles tense, preparing for trouble. Possession of iron is punishable by immediate culling during the Hunt—the fae courts take no chances with the one substance that naturally disrupts their magic.

"I saw you," she continues, voice barely audible. "With the young one, and the seamstress."

I weigh my options quickly. Denial seems pointless; she clearly saw the exchanges. Attack would draw unwanted attention. Truth, then, or enough of it to satisfy.

"They need protection more than I do."

Sera studies me with unnerving intensity. "You've been to the forest before."

Not a question, but an assessment based on the landmarks I shared. I shake my head. "Just repeated what I've heard."

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