The soil above her stirred, opening slowly like a dark bloom unfurling beneath the crimson Moon.
This gave Hunter the chance she needed to break her hands through the crumbling dirt, her fingers trembling and desperate as they clawed towards the surface.
At last, they broke free into the night.
With a final, guttural effort, she dragged herself out of the grave. The earth fell away from her in trembling sheets, clinging to her hair and skin before sliding off in heavy clumps. Above her, the crimson Moon hung silent and indifferent, its bleeding light spilling over her like a wound that refused to close.
Freed from the suffocating pressure of the earth, Hunter collapsed onto the cold soil. Her body shook violently, her muscles screaming as if rebelling against life itself. Her lungs seized before she managed a jagged, burning gasp– a sound she felt was too alive to belong to the dead. The taste of soil clung thick to her tongue, and each breath felt like swallowing glass.
Her vision blurred, and the world swam in fractured pieces she couldn't fit together. For a long, fragile moment, she focused only on breathing– on proving to herself that she still could.
Time stretched, elastic and cruel. It could've been an hour, or a minute, or eternity before she finally willed her arms forward. The movement sent a shudder down her spine as she dragged herself from the grave, inch by inch. Her heart thundered, like an alien rhythm pounding against her ribs. Each beat whispered something that could've been half a sob… or something far less human.
'I'm scared… I'm scared… am I alive?'
The thought echoed hollowly in her skull. Even when the world refused to make sense, her body moved, trembling but relentless, driven by that faint, desperate spark that refused to die. She didn't know what she was reaching for: help, warmth, a voice… perhaps anything to remind her that she wasn't alone in the bleeding sky.
Her gaze, unfocused and heavy, caught the outline of a gate in the distance. Relief fluttered weakly in her chest before her strength gave out. The last thing she felt was the cold kiss of the earth against her cheek as the darkness closed in again.
********
Hunter couldn't count the number of times she'd slipped under.
The first time she woke, muffled voices hovered nearby, arguing in hushed tones about whether to leave her be. Before she could focus, the world blurred, and she sank back into unconsciousness.
The second time, she was lying on something that swayed faintly beneath her weight. The air carried the sharp tang of salt and tar, threaded with the faint rot of damp wood. Somewhere close, water lapped against beams in a steady rhythm, and the sound filled the silence like a heartbeat.
Through heavy lashes, she caught the silhouette of a tall man standing at an open doorway, his voice low but steady as he talked to someone just beyond. Then everything went still again.
When she finally woke for what felt like the hundredth time, the stillness of the room pressed around her, the air cool and thick with moisture. The ceiling above her was dark and slanted, the planks warped with age.
She tried to sit up, but pain twisted through her stomach, forcing her to stop and breathe shallowly until the ache dulled.
Her mind felt empty, hollow. No thoughts, only the faint awareness of being alive when… logically, she shouldn't.
Her hand moved instinctively to her bandaged abdomen, and that fragile touch brought a flood of memory she didn't want: her screams, the heat, the unbearable tearing before everything went cold. A sharp sting pulsed behind her eyes, and she clenched her jaw, forcing the memories back into the dark.
'Ah… My head's killing me.'
To distract her thoughts from the headache, she focused instead on her surroundings. The place felt old, worn and unfamiliar, yet quiet enough to let her breathe without fear.
Nothing here made sense. But she was alive. That, at least, was something.
"But… how am I alive though?"
That was a question Hunter herself could not answer, but she pushed it aside when the door suddenly swung open.
"Why don't you make your own breakfast while I dress her wound? You've been sitting around doing nothing all day. You'll be late for work if you don't move faster so quit your nagging over there. Tsk!"
A woman stepped through, still half-turned toward the corridor as she spoke. It wasn't until she glanced at the bed that she froze, her eyes widening.
"For the god of Aetheros!"
Her hand flew to her chest as she sucked in a sharp breath. "You're awake."
She blinked, regaining her composure almost instantly before hurrying to the doorway and calling out in a frenzy, "Hey, Harlow! The kid's awake!"
Her voice echoed briefly down the hall before she turned back to Hunter and approached the bedside, her expression softening.
Hunter could not speak, her throat felt dry and tight, the words trapping somewhere behind the ache in her chest. She could only stare, a hint of wariness in her eyes. She couldn't afford to get too comfortable in a stranger's home.
The woman before her wasn't young– but there was a steady confidence in her movements. Stray curls of chestnut slipped free from a loose braid, and her rolled-up sleeve revealed strong calloused arms dusted faintly with flour and ash.
The scent of herbs lingered around her– sharp, clean and cutting through the musty air.
"Easy now."
The woman, whom she thought to be a healer, reached out but paused when she flinched. "You've lost a lot of blood. Moving too much won't do you any good."
Hunter stayed still, not because she wanted to, but because the pain in her stomach made even breathing feel like a risk. Every small movement sent a dull throb through her side, a reminder of how helpless she was. In her condition, there wasn't much she could do except comply… at least until she was strong enough to leave and find her way home.
Glancing at the healer after a moment's hesitation, Hunter lifted a trembling hand, gesturing weakly for something to drink.
"You want water?"
The healer caught on quickly.
"Hold on, I'll pour you a cup."
She crossed the room to a small table tucked beneath the window. A faint draft carried the smell of salt and damp rope through the cracks in the wood as she poured water from a jug into a clay cup. Returning to Hunter's side, she crouched slightly and offered it to her with a gentle smile.
"Here– slowly now, alright?"
But Hunter didn't wait. The cool water touched her lips, and she drank greedily, desperate to quench the dryness burning her throat. But after a few gulps, she coughed, the water catching in her chest as she sputtered and pressed a hand to her sternum.
"Easy, easy," the healer murmured, steadying the cup before it slipped. "You're in no shape to rush. Poor child, you must've been parched."
Hunter's breaths came shallow and uneven, until the coughing eased. Then she managed a nod.
"Feeling better?"
She nodded again, unable to speak just yet.
The healer's worried expression softened into a faint smile, relief washing across her features. "Good. That's a start. Is there anything else you need?"
There was no evil intention in her voice, only genuine concern. If she had any other intention, surely Hunter wouldn't be sitting here right now. But she couldn't lower her guard just yet.
'Calm down, Hunter. First things first, I need to figure out where I am.'
Facing the healer, her lips parted as she tried to form a question, but before she could speak, the sound of steady footsteps drew her attention to the door.
The healer followed her gaze and gave a small, reassuring nod.
"That'll be Harlow," she said softly. "You don't have to worry– he's the one who found you."
A moment later, the figure appeared in the doorway.
Harlow was tall, broad-shouldered and carried himself with a quiet, unforced strength. His dark hair was pulled back loosely at the nape, a few strands escaping to frame a face that looked like it had seen far too many storms. A faint shadow of stubble lined his jaw, and his clothes were simple but practical: a worn linen shirt, the sleeves rolled to his forearms, and a leather vest darkened from long hours spent near salt and smoke.
He lingered at the doorway for a moment, his hand braced against the frame as if weighing whether to step inside. His gaze swept over Hunter, sharp and assessing, not cruel, but far from gentle.
"Well."
He crossed his arms.
"You're awake. That's a good sign. Means you're feeling well enough to tell us where you came from— so we can send you back."
The healer turned, frowning. "Harlow."
He ignored the warning in her tone and took a few deliberate steps closer.
"I'm just saying what we're both thinking. We don't know who this snow white is and where she came from. She's not exactly local, and who knows what kind of trouble she must be in to end up half-dead by the gates of a graveyard."
'Snow white?'
Hunter's brows furrowed slightly.
The healer rolled her eyes and said dryly to Harlow. "You could try a little kindness before the interrogation, you know."
While the healer and Harlow exchanged words, Hunter's hand moved almost on its own, brushing over her face as if confirming it was still hers. Her fingers caught a strand of her hair, and when she pulled it forward, her breath hitched.
The pale strands gleamed faintly in the light filtering through the window— too light and too wrong. She tugged more over her shoulder, her pulse quickening as disbelief settled in.
'My hair… it's white?'
"My dear, ignore him," the healer said gently, mistaking Hunter's expression for fear. "He sounds gruffer than he means to."
But Hunter barely heard her. Her thoughts were spinning too fast, her chest tightening. She swallowed, forcing her voice out, low and uncertain.
"Can I… can I get a mirror?"
"A mirror?"
The healer and Harlow exchanged glances, but she moved first since Harlow wouldn't do it. She crossed to the same small table by the window, sunlight slipping through the thin curtains and glinting off the metal rim of the jug. Opening the cupboard, she retrieved a small handheld mirror and brought it over.
"Here."
Hunter took it with trembling hands. For a moment, she hesitated, her reflection wavering in the glass. Then she lifted it.