The forest swallowed him within hours.
Mist clung low to the ground, curling between roots and hollows like the breath of unseen mouths. The trees were old, trunks twisted, their bark black veined and wet with moss. Their crowns knitted together so tightly that dawn's light could only drip through in narrow beams, striking the earth like spears. The air was thick, damp, alive with the smell of rot and wet leaves.
Each step sank into loam soft as flesh. Beetles scuttled underfoot, vanishing into mulch. Birds cried above, shrill and distant, their calls echoing like knives scraping stone.
Leo's pack felt heavier than it should. The straps bit into his shoulders as though punishing him for every step he took. Hunger gnawed his stomach, the hard bread Mira had given him already stale and reluctant to break beneath his teeth. Thirst scraped his throat, but the streams that cut through the woods ran dark and sluggish, their surfaces rippling with an oily sheen, as though poisoned by secrets.
The shard stirred with every ache of his body, every falter in his stride.
You need not hunger. I could fill you. I could strengthen your legs, sharpen your eyes. Ask it of me, and the forest will open before you.
Leo shook his head, his voice rasping. "And what would you take in return?"
Only what you are already losing.
The words hooked deep, sinking into marrow. His hand pressed hard against his chest, as if he could smother the shard's voice, silence it with the hammer of his heartbeat. He walked faster, forcing the rasp of his breath to drown it out.
By noon, the mist had burned away, leaving the forest naked under a heavy, unbroken air. Insects droned in a ceaseless chorus. Sweat gathered at his temples, trickled down his back. His legs ached.
A sound split the forest, sharp, deliberate. A branch snapping, not the fall of dead wood. Leo froze mid-step. His breath caught, held. The silence that followed was too complete. Even the insects dimmed, as though listening.
He waited, every muscle pulled taut, until the wind stirred and the forest's voice returned. No second snap. No movement. But the unease clung to him like cobwebs as he pushed on.
When the road finally appeared, Leo stumbled onto it with a gasp. It was nothing more than a pair of ruts carved through earth, framed by scrub and brambles. Yet relief pricked his chest. Something in him longed for open space, for a path that felt made for human feet instead of the endless suffocation of trees.
That relief curdled quickly.
Tracks scarred the road, deep grooves from wagon wheels, hoofprints pressed sharp into damp soil. He crouched, brushing his fingers over the impressions. Still soft, damp edged. Fresh. No more than half a day old.
His pulse quickened.
Travelers, the shard hummed. Caravan or soldiers. Both dangerous. Both useful.
Leo rose slowly, scanning the road in both directions. The trees leaned in, hiding what lay ahead, whispering with their leaves. He could turn back, vanish into the forest before whoever made these tracks returned. Or he could follow, risk catching up, risk being seen.
The choice slipped from his hands before he could decide.
Around the bend came sound: the clatter of harness, the creak of wooden wheels, men's voices pitched low. Dust drifted into view, stirred by slow, steady movement.
Then the shapes emerged.
A line of wagons, pulled by oxen whose flanks gleamed with sweat. Guarding them marched men in patched armor, spears in hand, blades at their sides. Their eyes were sharp, restless, scanning the trees as though expecting ambush at any turn.
At their head rode a woman astride a black mare. Her jaw bore a scar that curled down her neck like a serpent's track. She sat straight in the saddle, her gaze cutting through the haze of dust, searching, weighing.
It found Leo.
The caravan slowed. Guards shifted, hands tightening on hilts. The oxen grunted, hooves squelching in the mud. Silence swelled, filled only by the slow jangle of harness and the wheeze of wheels.
Leo's breath caught. His throat was dry, his limbs stiff. Beneath the cloth, the shard pulsed hot and eager, as if it could smell blood in the air.
Now we see, it whispered, velvet and cruel.
If you are prey… or something more.