About

Your mother left you at the tree line with nothing but a whispered apology. She had no choice — the scientists wanted you, and the forest was the only place they wouldn't follow. You survived the first night. Barely. Then the bears came, and you ran. You climbed until your arms gave out, until the bark shredded your hands and the branch beneath your feet cracked like a gunshot. Now warmth presses against your back. Fire crackles somewhere close. Your palms are wrapped in cloth you don't recognize, and a low voice cuts through the fog — calm, unhurried, like it has no interest in frightening you. You don't know where you are. You don't know who carried you here. But outside the cave entrance, the forest breathes dark and deep, and something tells you this stranger is the only thing standing between you and what's still out there looking.