Page 9 of Lore of the Wilds

The deeper into the forest they ventured, the darker it became.

Her resolve melted away, allowing the fear to rush back in. She shouldn’t be here, this deep in the forest. More than anything, she wanted to sprint as fast as her legs would take her until she was back in Duskmere.

It might not be safe, but at least it was home. At least it was something familiar.

The leaves themselves seemed to whisper,Gohome, go home, go home.

Barely any light reached the ground through the thick canopy of leaves. Though Lore distrusted the guards, she trailed close behind them, her legs struggling to keep up with their long strides. She swore she could feel the breath of a hungry beast waiting just beyond the shadows and could see the gleam of monstrous eyes tracking her every move.

She’d felt this before.

Lore had grown up surrounded by sentries. One of them had murdered her father in front of her and laughed when he realized that his sharp jab to her father’s temple hadn’t just shut him up—it had killed him.

She’d had to run and hide from sentries her entire life and had been forced to lower her eyes when in their view. Her whole existence had felt like she was dying a slow death by a thousand cuts. So, she’d tried to run from Duskmere. There had to be somewhere the sentries were not, after all.

At least, that’s what she’d thought.

But she hadn’t made it far into the woods before the fear of the unknown began to choke her and cloud her mind. And then a sentry had found her, anyway. And that’s when she’d gotten the scar below her breast. He’d taken his time carving into her. He’ddelighted in it, knowing that she’d be forced to bear the mark for a lifetime.

She resisted the urge to press on the spot that even now seemed to burn. The phantom pain came to her anytime she saw it, thought of it, or accidentally brushed against it.

The memory of that night in the woods was overwhelming her, mixing with her present terror. She thought if she didn’t turn back now, the beating of her heart might stop all together.

She couldn’t catch her breath.

Lore slowed her steps, dragging her feet. She could hardly get the fae to listen to her. She had to go—she’d volunteered for this. She could do it. The guards would keep her safe... well, from everything save from themselves. They weren’t like that sentry from that night; they needed something from her after all.

Her eyes swelled with tears, and a whimper escaped her. For a second, she believed she would die in the forest. Something was going to eat her, or she would fall and break her leg, and nobody would come looking for her.

The forest itself was evil. It would consume her. Devour her. Swallow her whole like a monster with a gaping maw in one of her nightmares.

Suddenly, something changed. The bloodcurdling fear that had been pulsing through her dissipated. Her chest relaxed and the beads of sweat collecting on her brow dried up. Her jaw and fists unclenched, too. The all-consuming urge to turn back that was warring within her, the pressing need to be close to the guards and the false sense of protection their presence provided—despite knowing neither of them would actually lift their swords toprotecther—just stopped. The fear dissipated.

She heard the trill of birdsong. The soft, almost imperceptible footfalls of the guards as they continued their pace. The trees here differed from the ones on the edge of Duskmere. They were older, more spread out. Rather than imposing giants working inleague with the guards, these trees had an almost calming aura to them.

The guards were paying her no mind, seemingly unaware of the change in thinking Lore had just undergone. She turned around and walked a few paces back, retracing her footsteps.

All at once, that fear invaded her senses again. Her stomach heaved with it, her heartbeat roared in her ears, and she had to consciously fight the urge to panic and run blindly through the woods until she was back in Duskmere.

She turned with difficulty and walked three more paces. Her fear vanished again.

The fear—the panic—was false. A spell. Some disgusting magic, no doubt placed here centuries ago by the Alytherians to stop the humans from leaving.

Lore’s eyes filled with tears. Not from sadness, but anger. Howdarethey?

“Do not fall behind, human!”

Genuine fear shot through Lore’s stomach at the guard’s order. She recalled his grip around her arm and the way he had cast her to the ground.

The guards had gotten too far ahead of her. She quickened her steps and rearranged her features. They could never know that she was aware of the spell.

If they knew she had that knowledge, she would never be allowed to return home.

Chapter4

By early evening, Lore’s feet ached in her too-small boots, and the meager strip of dried fruit the guards had given her left her stomach rumbling from hunger. Despite all of that, it was uncertainty that caused unease to settle in the pit of her belly as she stepped into an Alytherian city.

Lore kept seeing flashes of Duskmere every time she blinked: the crumpled ceiling in the shop, the Burgs’ tavern on fire, the kids’ terrified faces as they tried so hard to be brave. Less than a full day’s walk from here, her entire world had fallen apart because of an earth-shattering force. Life as they knew it was gone forever.

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