Page 124 of Run Little Omega

"Can you see what they're doing?" I ask, struggling to my feet.

The ground suddenly shifts beneath us, roots breaking through the soil in sinuous patterns. I stumble, and Cadeyrn catches me reflexively, his touch still careful, still mindful of boundaries. But I don't pull away immediately. The threat gathering around us has reshuffled priorities.

"We need to move," The Hound says, already gathering our meager supplies. "The forest will shield us, but we must go deeper."

"Deeper?" I repeat, looking around at the trees that seem to bend slightly inward, creating a natural canopy above us. "How do you know?"

"Listen," he says simply.

I close my eyes, focusing beyond normal hearing. At first, there's only silence. Then, gradually, I become aware of something subtle—a low vibration traveling through the soil, up through the soles of my feet, resonating in my chest where it meets the rhythm of four tiny heartbeats.

"The forest is singing," I whisper, eyes flying open in wonder.

"It's been silent for centuries," Cadeyrn says quietly. "Since the courts divided Wild Magic into seasonal territories."

The Hound nods. "The bloodlines were separated. Summer from Winter, Autumn from Spring. No mixing allowed except under strict breeding protocols during the Hunt."

I place both hands on my belly, suddenly understanding. "And now these four carry markers from all courts. They're... reuniting what was divided."

"The ultimate threat to court authority," Cadeyrn confirms. "Children who embody unified Wild Magic rather than divided court magic."

A branch cracks sharply in the distance—too deliberate to be natural. The Hound's head snaps up, nostrils flaring.

"Court scouts," he confirms. "Moving faster than expected."

The forest responds before any of us can move. Roots surge upward, forming an intricate barrier between us and the approaching threat. Branches interweave overhead, creating a canopy so dense that the crimson dawn becomes muted twilight around us.

"It's protecting us," I breathe, watching in amazement as a natural corridor forms ahead, leading deeper into the forest.

"Not us," Cadeyrn corrects, his gaze dropping to my abdomen. "Them."

My skin tingles as understanding dawns. The forest isn't just awakening—it's recognizing what grows inside me. These four impossible lives represent something the ancient trees remember, something that existed before court divisions and breeding protocols.

We move through the forest-formed corridor, The Hound leading, Cadeyrn beside me. I feel oddly weightless despite my growing belly, as though the forest itself supports my steps. Roots flatten beneath my feet, creating smooth paths where moments before there was rough terrain.

"The courts won't give up easily," Cadeyrn says, his voice pitched low. "Elder Iris Bloom has likely invoked ancient treaties that supersede normal rivalries."

"The Spring Court emissary?" I recall seeing her at the Hunt's beginning, her flower-petal skin and deceptively gentle demeanor.

"The oldest living fae," he confirms. "She was already ancient when I was born. If anyone could unite the courts against a common threat, it would be her."

A distant horn sounds—three long notes followed by two short. The forest trembles around us, and the babies shift restlessly in response.

"They've formalized the alliance," The Hound translates, his expression grim. "The signal declares unified hunt protocol. All court forces now answer to a single command structure."

"How many?" I ask, already knowing the answer will terrify me.

"Every available alpha," Cadeyrn replies, frost gathering at his fingertips. "Every court guard, every noble capable of tracking magic. Hundreds."

The magnitude of the threat should paralyze me with fear. Instead, I feel an unexpected calm settle in my bones. Perhaps it's resignation. Perhaps it's the Wild Magic growing stronger in my blood. Or perhaps it's simply that after everything—the Hunt, the claiming, the betrayal, the quadruplets—I've exhausted my capacity for terror.

"Let them come," I say, surprising myself with the steel in my voice. "They'll find we're not so easily culled."

The words hang in the air, potent as any spell. The forest responds with a subtle shift, the path ahead widening slightly, dappled light breaking through to illuminate our way.

"There," The Hound indicates a massive blackthorn tree ahead, its trunk wide enough for several people to hide within. "An entrance to the deeper paths."

We approach the ancient tree, its bark glistening with red sap that resembles blood in the filtered light. As we draw near, a section of trunk splits open, revealing a hollow space within.

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