Read Frozen Dreams :: 01. Escaping

It was on the fifth branch smacking her in the face that Saya realized she might not be the world’s greatest escape artist. No, she decided, spitting out a mouthful of leaves, that title probably belonged to someone who didn’t routinely run into trees. But hey, give her some credit. At least she was still running, which, considering the circumstances, was quite the achievement.

The forest was a bad idea.

That much was clear to Saya Rève as she crashed through yet another thicket, the thorns lashing at her arms like tiny whips. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her lungs burning with every strained inhale, but stopping wasn’t an option. Not now, not while her pursuer might still be on her tail. She had no idea how long she’d been running, only that she had to keep going.

Somewhere behind her, perhaps not far, perhaps right at her heels, someone—or something—was following. Her memory was a blur, like trying to see through fogged-up glass, but the fear was sharp and clear, digging into her like a set of claws. She’d forgotten who or what was after her, which was slightly alarming, but the gut-churning terror remained. She knew one thing for certain: she could not be caught.

For the life of her, though, she couldn’t remember why.

Not that it mattered. If the pounding of her heart had anything to say about it, survival was the only thing that counted now. Saya’s thoughts skittered like startled mice, bumping into each other and scattering in different directions. She didn’t have time to think, to piece together the jigsaw puzzle of her situation. Right now, all she could focus on was the next step, the next breath. She tripped over a root, barely catching herself before she went sprawling into the dirt.

“Brilliant idea, Saya,” she muttered under her breath, wincing as she nearly twisted her ankle on that exposed root. “Running into a dark, creepy forest with no plan and no idea where you’re going. Absolutely genius.”

It wasn’t the first stupid decision she’d made recently, and knowing her track record, it probably wouldn’t be the last. But in her defense, there hadn’t exactly been time to weigh the pros and cons of forest navigation when she’d bolted. There had been the pressing matter of, well, not getting caught, and the forest had seemed like the best bet at the time.

Or, at least, the only bet.

Saya had never been one for patience. Or caution. Those were the traits of sensible people, the kind who looked both ways before crossing the street. Saya was not one of those people. She was more of the leap-before-you-look-and-figure-it-out-later variety, which had served her well enough in the past. Mostly.

Right now, though, she was starting to wish she’d had just a bit more of that sensible streak. Her muscles were screaming in protest, her body begging for a break, but the memory of being hunted kept her moving. Her pursuer, whoever they were, was a hazy figure in her mind, more of a shadowy presence than a clear image. She couldn’t remember their face, but she remembered the fear—cold and sharp, driving her forward with a single-minded desperation.

And then there was the other thing: the sense that she was forgetting something important, something crucial that she just couldn’t place. It was maddening, like a word on the tip of her tongue that refused to come out. But there was no time to dwell on it, not when she had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, on not tripping over her own feet in the dark.

“Of all the places to end up,” she muttered, more to herself than to the trees that loomed around her like silent sentinels. “Why not a nice, open field? Or a sunny meadow? No, it had to be the creepy forest.”

Saya wasn’t sure what was worse—the idea that she was alone out here, or the nagging suspicion that she wasn’t. The latter was becoming increasingly likely, given the unsettling sounds that seemed to be drawing closer, the soft rustle of leaves that didn’t quite match up with the rhythm of her own footsteps. Her mind was racing, searching for any semblance of a plan, but all she could focus on was the need to get away, to put as much distance as possible between herself and whatever was behind her.

Which was why, when she first spotted the light through the trees, she almost didn’t believe it. It was faint, barely more than a glow, but it was enough to snap her attention forward. Saya’s heart leaped into her throat. Hope, however fragile, sparked within her chest. She squinted, trying to make out what it was. A campfire, perhaps? A lantern?

Or maybe it was a trick, a lure to lead her straight into the jaws of whatever was pursuing her.

She gritted her teeth. Well, what choice did she have? She wasn’t exactly spoiled for options out here in the middle of nowhere. Taking a deep breath—because she wasn’t sure how many more she’d get—Saya forced her trembling legs to move faster. The light grew brighter, more defined, and as she approached, she realized it wasn’t a fire at all.

It was a door. Or something equal? There was no knob.

In the middle of the forest, suspended in the air, a door glowed with a strange, soft blue light. It was tall and narrow, made of bright light that seemed to hum with an energy of its own. There was no building attached to it, no path leading up to it, just a door standing on its own, defying every law of physics that Saya vaguely remembered from her less-traumatic school days.

It was like standing next to a live wire, the air crackling with potential. Saya hesitated for just a moment, her hand hovering over the light. Her instincts flared up again, a final warning that this was a bad idea. Every sensible bone in her body screamed at her to turn back, to put as much distance between herself and this impossibility as she could. But something else, something buried deep within her, whispered a different command.

Go through.

She wasn’t exactly a fan of her inner voice, mostly because it tended to get her into trouble. It was the same voice that had convinced her ten years ago to climb to the top of Old Man Jasper’s barn and jump off with an umbrella as her parachute. That hadn’t ended well—there were still faint scars on her knees to prove it.

But she didn’t have time to debate with herself, not when whatever was following her could be a breath away from grabbing her by the neck. So, Saya did what she did best: she made a stupid decision.

She clenched her hands into fists, feeling the sweat beneath her fingertips as she reached for the light. It was cold, almost unnaturally so, and it sent a shiver down her spine. Saya took one last look at the forest around her, the oppressive trees and the tangled underbrush, and then she stepped through the door.