Ana wrestled through ice and snow as the storm raged around her, each gust a claw trying to rip the world from her grip. She pressed the bundle in her arms tighter to her chest, shielding it against the storm's fury.
She walked barefoot across the desolate white, farther and farther from the place she had once called home. Her sandals were threadbare, her clothing torn and singed at the edges. The bundle in her arms began to cry—a thin, fragile sound swallowed by the wind.
Ana bent her head quickly, whispering soft, desperate comforts. She tugged the thin black shawl closer around the infant, wishing she had something—anything—more to keep the babe warm. That regret gnawed at her harder than the cold.
She didn't know where she was going. That wasn't the priority anymore.
Only the child.
Only his survival.
But if she didn't find shelter soon, the meager supplies she'd saved for him would run out. His sobs faded, small body sagging into sleep against her shivering frame.
She had escaped that place—barely.
The child had to live.
Time stretched into something merciless and endless. Her limbs stiffened with cold, her bones ached, and exhaustion dragged at her every step. She cast one glance back toward the place she'd fled, a choked sob rising when memory hit her like a blade—the chaos, the screams, her lover swallowed in it all.
A cave yawned ahead, dark and hollow. A promise of shelter.
The sky above was deepening into night, and Ana doubted she'd ever feel safe in shadows again.
Inside, the cold sank deeper into her bones. She couldn't go on like this. Less than a day had passed since she'd fled, yet every moment had tried to break her. She sank down, setting the baby carefully between her knees and chest, curling around him with what little warmth she had left.
Her thoughts wandered off—painfully, reluctantly—to everything that had led her here.
She had been a slave.
She had been freed.
She had fought.
She had loved—fiercely, impossibly, more than she ever believed a mortal heart could love.
And now… she had lost.
The infant began to cry again, the sound ricocheting off the cave walls. Despite the ache in her bones, her lips curved into a small smile. She hadn't lost everything. Not yet. She brushed her nose against the boy's forehead.
"Sleep, little one," she whispered. "The days are long, and full of questions."
Questions she prayed some god—any god still willing to hear her—would answer.
Then she froze.
A faint crackle, the unmistakable sound of fire, echoed from deeper within the cave.
She stiffened. How could there be fire here? Who would be hiding this far out, in this storm?
Curiosity and fear warred in her chest.
Curiosity won.
She rose slowly, clutching the baby close as she stepped deeper into the dark.