Without it, I am utterly lost.

I’ve been stumbling through the woods for what feels like forever, attempting to remember all the paths I took before, but every direction looks the same.

The only thing I’ve accomplished thus far is coming full circle.

Leaning against the stump of an oak tree, I let out a weary sigh and mentally recount my steps.

For some strange reason, the trees around me haven’t whispered a hint or offered help. Their leaves have yet to rustle with a message in the wind, and they’re as still as a frozen lake, serving as nothing more than a beautiful backdrop.

“Why are you all so silent now?” I ask. “You told me to run, and I did. What now?”

They give me nothing.

I sling a satchel over my shoulder and pull out my mother’s old notebook, flipping to the last page to reread her notes on all the kingdoms.

If you ever need to escape, head for the Fourth Kingdom. The people there are kind and open to vagabonds and strangers, and I’ve heard nothing but good things about its Yellow Brick Road.

It lies beyond the Twisted Rivers, and the moss on the oaks will grow on their south side if you’re close.

The swallows will know the harmony from the lullaby I sang to you as a child and will lead you the rest of the way.

It’s pointless to check the moss on the oaks ahead of me; I haven’t traveled long enough to be anywhere near the realm of the Fourth Kingdom.

I’ve yet to come across a stream, let alone a river.

Returning her notes to my bag, I decide to make this clearing a temporary shelter for the night.

I stand up and snap a few branches for firewood, but something large moves through the bushes in the distance.

It sounds too small to be a bear but too large to be a rodent.

I collect more firewood, but the ‘something’ moves again, rattling the leaves near me.

It gets closer and closer, and I stand still, waiting to see what direction it’s coming from, but then I hear a familiar deep voice behind me.

“I’m impressed with how far you’ve traveled in a day,” Gabriel breathes against my neck. “Beyond impressed, actually.”

I slowly turn around to face him, too stunned to speak. He’s dressed in all black, sporting a line of smeared war paint under his eyes.

“Going somewhere important?” He raises his eyebrow.

“No, I…” I stutter as someone presses the cold barrel of a gun against my back. “I was just stretching my legs.”

“After I specifically told you to stay home and wait for me?”

I swallow as more men—at least twenty—slip through the shadows behind him. Their arrows and guns are all aimed directly at my head, and my heart tumbles to the ground.

It knows I’m trapped.

“It looks like you’re trying to get away from me,” he says. “Is that what you’re doing?”