Estelle walked quietly, with bated breath. She was certain that someone would hear her pounding heart, normally so steady, now betraying her. All she had to her name was a small satchel of trinkets and the armor on her back. Now all she needed was a weapon. Or two.

She knelt before the door of the armory closest to the edge of camp and pulled her lockpicks from her pocket. She had crafted them herself, under the instruction of the only elder in the camp. He was over two hundred and had a centuries’ worth of experience in what he sometimes called, quietly so no one could hear, the real world. The truest world he had ever known.

The lock clicked, and Estelle pocketed her picks and slowly opened the door, holding her breath, praying it wouldn’t squeak. By some stroke of luck, despite the rusted hinges, it did not. She crept inside, keeping low to the ground, and left the door cracked open behind her.

Sitting atop the highest shelf, she knew, was a well-made sword that fit her grip perfectly. It was embellished simply, without adding too much weight, with a green tourmaline stone, matching the one around her neck. Her mother had always told her she would get to keep it when she came of age. That had been a few years ago. She reached up and was just able to grab it. Surveying the rest of the weapons, she snagged a small dagger and a sheath for both weapons. She tied her sword around her waist and stuck the knife in her boot.

Estelle crept back outside, scanning the conmunis for any watching eyes. She found none. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she made a break for the edge of the conmunis, where the trees grew thicker and would provide plenty of cover. She had only a few hours head start before Chul woke and went to fetch her. She could only speculate as to how he’d react, but she knew that whatever he said, whatever he felt, whatever had happened between them, he would pursue his prodigal daughter. The one he was proudest of and the hardest on.

Estelle would rather die than return.

Footsteps fell faster and faster as she dashed through the woods, keeping an eye on the ground, trying her best to avoid making a trail for her father to follow. Eventually, Estelle came upon a stream, and removing her boots, she waded through the water for what felt like forever. When she decided that was far enough, she shook her feet as dry as she could, replaced her shoes, and made her way towards the smoke she could now see rising above the trees, thick and cloying and grey and beautiful.

Freedom.