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The woods of Black Hollow closed in behind her, branches clawing at her cloak, thorns tugging like jealous fingers unwilling to let her go. Moonlight fractured through the crooked canopy, painting silver shards across her path as her breath fluttered in her chest like a trapped dove. She did not dare look back. In Dark Hollow, shadows did not always belong to trees.
Her crimson hood slipped and left behind, revealing hair the color of warm dusk, loose strands clinging to her lips as she fled. The wind carried the scent of moss, night blossoms… and something deeper, watching, waiting. Yet beneath her fear burned another feeling—strange, electric, undeniable. Not terror. Anticipation.
For she knew, as surely as her heart knew its own rhythm, that beyond the final bend of the forest trail stood the crossroads where fate would meet her.
And whether it would be a monster… or a lover…
Black Hollow had not yet decided.
