Echoes of rushing water filtered through the continuous stream of trees, but from where it came was a mystery because Addis and Emerson hadn’t been able to locate it, no matter how many times they’d circled the endless, woven, interlocked paths. ‘We have to be close. It has to be right around here,’ Addis said for what felt like the hundredth time.

‘But it’s not,’ came Emerson’s tearful reply as she dropped to the ground.

Weary to the point of just wanting to give up, Addis was unsure what to say. Aunt Grace would know. She always had the exact perfect words for every situation. But she wasn’t Aunt Grace; she was just a terrified, seventeen-year-old girl trying to avoid a murderer. Or two. Before settling herself next to Em, she used her foot to brush away some pinecones and then reached down and pulled two twigs that were snagged in her friend’s greasy, scraggly hair.

She didn’t need a mirror to know she looked just as bad, if not worse. And from the throbbing in her face, she knew she probably had a bruise or two from being hit. But overshadowing everything else was a relentless, driving thirst. They’d braved chewing on a few leaves that were still clinging to their green, but it wasn’t nearly enough. And she was well beyond hungry. At this point, she knew with certainty she would devour anything placed in front of her, even her gag-worthy foods: beets, cottage cheese, oatmeal, grits, liver and onions. Hell, if she knew what to do, she’d try to catch one of the cute squirrels or chipmunks scampering around the forest floor.

But then images of her parents’ bloody, lifeless bodies twisted through her mind, and she knew, starving or not, she would find it difficult to kill anything.

Alex and Adam. Those were the names of the monsters responsible for her parents’ murders. Lying under the cabin, listening to the coldness of the woman’s anger, Addis had buckled in grief, muffling her sobs with the crook of her elbow. Now she stared down at the pocketknife clutched in her hand.

Afraid Addis’s cries would give away their location, Emerson had wrapped herself around her, nestling the two of them together until they were closer than cups in a cupboard. It was then Addis had felt something jab her painfully in the hip, and she’d reached down to move the object, only to realize it was a knife. Useless as a weapon perhaps, but having it made her – both of them – feel better, so they’d kept it.

In the light of day, they’d noticed someone’s engraved name had worn off over the years. A picture of a bear and the letters A and E were all that were left visible, along with what appeared to be a date.