“Go on, go on,” she whispered to herself. They would catch her; she knew this. At some point, they would overtake her. But whether they caught her or not, she was determined: She was going to the king. She understood she was the child the king sought; she understood others were taken in her place. She understood the king would not rest until she came before him. She wanted only to lead the guards far enough away that they would not turn back for Mop when they caught her.

Thinking of Mop and Ness—thinking of how vulnerable they’d seemed before the guards, stumbling, trembling—Rae felt her throat tighten. The sound they’d made as she’d run away… Oh! She could not bear it.

“I’m sorry!” she whispered, pushing through another tangle of branches, a twig lashing across her. Touching her fingers to her eyelid, she found the scratch hot and weeping. “Ah!” She thrashed more frantically, the thicket sharp as her guilt. I’ll come back, I promise, she tried to say, but barbed with disbelief, the words caught in her throat.

“She’s there! There!” came a cry behind her.

Rae pushed on.

Only when twilight began to overtake the woods did her pace slow. Finding it harder to move through the dim landscape, Rae changed course, clambering up a hill where she knew she’d find the forest path. She didn’t think she could outpace the guards long on even ground, but surely she was far enough and the light low enough that Mop, at least, would be safe when they caught her.

She glanced back: She couldn’t see them, but she could hear them, the great rustling they made through leaf litter and branches. As she stood listening, though, something changed—the rustling grew suddenly louder. Frenzied. She heard a cry, another, then a louder yawp-ing.

A greasy shriek. A guttural, animal noise. A panicked shouting.

Agh—there!

Get—!

Oh!

Eyes wide, Rae scanned the forest, indistinct in the dusk. She could see nothing, but the frantic thrashing noises, the echoing cries were there, hidden just beyond, and as she stared, she suddenly could see—suddenly the forest branches were moving wildly, and a horse, riderless, came tearing out of the shadows, careening desperately through the trees.

Oh! Rae gasped, searching for what had terrified it, but nothing but voices followed, the men still shouting—

Get—!

-t’s here!

No!

My horse!

Th—spear!

—and still an animal shrieking, and the horse still galloping, ears back, racing toward her. It floundered as it reached the hillside she’d climbed, hooves sinking in the loose soil, and as it struggled, clambering, Rae ran toward it. Seeing her, the horse panicked more, head tossing, eyes wide and white, but Rae, moving gently, quickly, soothing, “Shhhh,” took the reins.

“Sh, shh,” she hushed again. In the distance, the squealing, the shouting continued. The horse pulled, desperate to get away. Rae felt the animal’s panic. What is it? What is it? Unthinkingly, she grabbed the saddle pommels.