Into The Wilderness

The night stretched endlessly before me, a dark and endless void swallowing every trace of the only home I had ever known. The smoldering remains of the hut still burned in the corner of my vision, the air thick with the scent of charred wood and memories I could never reclaim. My feet carried me forward, deeper into the unknown, but my heart remained behind, buried beneath the ashes where my mother had taken her last breath.

I had no direction, no destination. I only knew one thing—I couldn't stay. Not after what I had done.

Branches snapped under my bare feet, but I barely felt them. The cool night air bit at my skin, yet the fire inside me had not faded. It pulsed beneath my ribcage, reminding me of the monster I had become. The monster I had always been.

I didn't belong anywhere.

And yet, as I walked, something gnawed at the back of my mind. A presence. A pulse. A connection. I clenched my fists and shook my head as if I could physically dislodge the feeling. Adam.

Why couldn't I stop thinking about him?

I had seen the fear in his eyes when he turned and ran. He had seen what he thought was a beast. I couldn't blame him. My mother's magic had ensured that he wouldn't remember my face—only a terrifying illusion. That should have been the end of it.

So why was I drawn to him like a moth to flame?

Suddenly, I heard something. A heartbeat—steady, strong. And close.

I froze, scanning the dense forest around me. My senses sharpened, every sound amplified. The rustling of leaves, the whisper of the wind, the distant hoot of an owl. But beneath it all, that heartbeat. My heartbeat quickened in response.

I wasn't alone.

"Anne."

My breath hitched at the sound of my name. Deep, familiar. Disbelieving.

I turned sharply. Adam stood a few feet away, half-hidden by the shadows. He wasn't running. He wasn't afraid. He was watching me with something else in his eyes—something even I couldn't understand. And how he knew my name, it's a mystery to me.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same thing." His voice was low, careful. "You left in a hurry."

I stiffened. "Because I had to."

Adam stepped closer. "I don't believe what I saw."

I sucked in a breath. "What?"

"I know it wasn't real." His eyes locked onto mine. "I don't know how I know, but I do."

I wanted to laugh. It was ridiculous. My mother had made sure he saw a terrifying creature, a nightmare. Any sane person would have run and never looked back. But here he was, questioning reality because something inside him told him it wasn't true.

"Go home, Adam." I turned away, forcing my voice to stay steady. "You shouldn't be here."

"You shouldn't be alone," he countered.

I whirled back to face him. "You don't know anything about me."

His jaw tightened. "Then tell me."

I stared at him, at the boy who had no reason to care, at the boy whose life had been built around hunting creatures like me. He was stubborn, determined. He wouldn't let this go.

But he should.

I took a step back. "You don't understand what I am."

"Then help me understand."

"I can't!" My voice cracked, raw with everything I had been holding back. "You don't want to understand, Adam. You want things to make sense. But I don't make sense! I—" I stopped, shaking my head. "I'm dangerous."

Adam studied me for a long moment. Then, to my utter shock, he took another step closer. "I don't think you are."

I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "That's because you don't know what I did tonight."

His expression darkened. "What happened?"

I clenched my fists. "I burned everything. I—" My breath caught. "I killed my mother."

Silence hung between us. The words felt heavier than anything I had ever said aloud, pressing down on my chest like a weight I would never be able to lift.

Adam didn't flinch. He didn't step back. Instead, his gaze softened. "It was an accident, wasn't it?"

I swallowed hard. "That doesn't change what happened."

"No," he admitted. "But it changes what it means."

I shook my head. "You don't understand. I lost control. If you stay near me, you could be next."

Adam's eyes didn't waver. "Then I guess I'll take my chances."

I exhaled sharply, feeling something crack inside me. "Why?"

"Because something is telling me I should." He hesitated, then added, "And because you saved my sister."

I blinked. "That's not a reason to risk your life."

"It is to me."

I stared at him, struggling to find words. He wasn't going to let this go. He wasn't going to walk away. And a part of me—the part that had spent seventeen years locked away, alone—didn't want him to.

But I couldn't stay.

I took another step back. "I have to go."

Adam clenched his jaw. "Where?"

I shook my head. "I don't know."

He hesitated, then did something I never expected. He reached out, his fingers brushing my wrist. The contact sent a jolt through me, something unfamiliar yet undeniable.

"Then let me come with you," he said.

I inhaled sharply, my body tensing. "Adam—"

"Please." His voice was softer now, almost pleading. "I don't think I can just walk away."

Neither could I.

But I had to.

I pulled my hand back. "You can't."

His face fell, but he didn't argue.

I turned before I could change my mind, forcing my feet to move. One step. Another. The distance between us grew, and with every step, the connection between us stretched thinner and thinner, until it was on the verge of snapping completely.

"Anne."

I stopped, but I didn't turn around.

"When you're ready," Adam said, his voice steady, "I'll still be here."

I swallowed against the lump in my throat, then forced myself to keep walking. The trees swallowed me whole, the darkness closing in around me.

For the first time in my life, I was truly alone.