The forest was alive with teeth and shadow. Ochos ran, her lungs burning, her heart hammering so hard it sounded like it would split her chest. The wolves were behind her, teeth glinting in the dim light that filtered through the dense canopy. Each snapping growl tore at the air, closer with every step.
"Stay away!" she screamed, voice cracking, raw with fear and defiance. The words echoed against the trees, swallowed immediately by the chaos of claws and leaves. Branches whipped against her face, tearing at skin and hair, but she didn't slow. She couldn't.
The forest bent around her in a blur of green and brown. Her legs ached, but instinct and terror carried her forward. Behind her, the snarls sharpened. She knew she could not outrun them forever. Somewhere ahead, a ribbon of silver shimmered through the trees. The river.
A sob tore free from her throat as she stumbled over roots and rocks, the ground slick with rain. She fell hard, scraping palms and knees, and scrambled upright again, spotting the water ahead. The wolves hesitated. Their eyes, yellow and unmoving, fixed on her. And then, something impossible happened.
The snarls stopped. The pack froze mid-step, tilting their heads as if listening to something only they could hear. Then, almost imperceptibly, they began to retreat—one, two, ten—vanishing into the shadows of the forest without a single bite, without a single sound.
Ochos stumbled to the riverbank, collapsing onto the wet soil. Her chest rose and fell in ragged gasps, her vision swimming. That's when she saw it: the river. Not just the silver water sliding between stones, but a pulse—a glow, soft at first, then strengthening, wrapping her like fingers of light. Blue, translucent, shimmering like glass, encasing her trembling form. She barely had time to blink before exhaustion claimed her.
As she slumped unconscious, she felt warmth and pressure all at once—a shield holding her from the forest, from the pack, from everything that had hunted her. The sound of rushing water became a heartbeat, steady and strong. She was trapped inside the river's protection, yet safe. For the first time, fear didn't have its claws in her completely.
Above her, the trees whispered secrets she could not yet understand. Around her, the river pulsed like a living thing, alive with intent, guarding, judging, claiming. And in that pulse, Ochos sensed the first echo of a truth she would soon learn: she was not just a girl running from wolves. She was something the river loved.
Something the forest, the pack, and even the rules of her world would soon try to take back.