The world was nothing but blurred shapes drifting slowly past.

There were sounds as well—little more than the whisper of a breeze—but perhaps it was only her muddled mind finding meaning in the murmurs, hearing distant voices where there were none. As the sounds faded and the haze slowly sharpened, the shapes began to resemble claws.

Perhaps that sudden realization was what pulled her closer to consciousness.

She blinked against the weight of her eyelids. Near and far were still one and the same, but the outlines gradually settled into focus. The claws darkened, their twisted textures emerging until they revealed themselves for what they truly were.

Branches. Trees.

The decaying trunks enclosed her on every side as her sluggish gaze swept across them. She knew them all too well.

A jolt of adrenaline sent her stumbling backward. Bare feet landed on tangled roots and brittle branches, sharp enough to sting the soles of her feet. She looked down at the hem of her long pale nightgown, at her filthy, dirt-stained feet.

Not again.

She collapsed to her knees onto the carpet of dead leaves. Her vision still swam as her eyes settled on a cluster of slender, milky-white mushrooms nestled against the base of a gnarled root, their ghostly appearance betraying their poisonous nature—nothing unusual in these woods. Perhaps they were the only thing that made sense in this place.

Her breathing came in quick, uneven gasps. The tightness in her chest refused to let air reach her lungs. The feeling was not unfamiliar.

Neither the desperate breathlessness after another sleepwalking episode nor the corpse-like branches looming around her, as though they might lunge at any moment. In her dizziness, they seemed to move.

The forest lay as dark as it always had, yet it did not leave her blind. A dim, mist-veiled light seeped through the canopy, hinting that dawn was near.

As she fought to steady the pounding of her heart in her ears, she searched the trees.

She couldn't see the forest's edge. She always had before. There was only an endless sea of trees. How far had she wandered this time?

She wasn't supposed to be here.

Nothing mattered now except getting back to her room before anyone noticed she was gone—assuming the spinning in her head would stop long enough for her to walk.

She clenched her fists to stop their trembling and realized one hand had already been tightly closed. When she forced her stiff fingers apart, crescent-shaped nail marks marred her palm. Dark sap stained her skin around a crushed sprig tangled in her grip—a mess of stem, leaves, petals, and roots. When had she picked it? The last thing she remembered was staring at the ceiling of her bedroom before falling asleep. A sweet fragrance rose as she lifted it toward her face. The flower didn't need to be whole for her to recognize it. Small pale petals. Broad leaves. She had never included this species in her research. A child of the forest. A variety that grew nowhere beyond its borders—not even near its fringes—but only where she had never dared venture deeply enough to gather herbs.

One that bloomed where danger became death.

The stillness shattered with a sharp crack.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as cold sweat soaked through the thin fabric of her nightgown. She looked around. The darkness between the rows of trunks stared back.

Perhaps it was only a bird knocking loose a twig. Perhaps a rodent slipping through the dead leaves. But she knew she was lying to herself. Even the animals were wise enough to avoid these woods.

Another crack echoed through the silence.

Close enough that her legs moved before she had time to think. Her knees protested as she lurched upright and turned her back on the sound.

She could no longer see the forest's edge, but perhaps—as every other time—she had simply walked in a straight line during her sleep. She gathered the hem of her nightgown and ran.

The pain in her bare feet no longer mattered.

She fought through the dizziness. She stumbled over roots. Crushed mushrooms beneath her steps, their slick flesh making the ground treacherous. She threw her arms over her face to shield herself from low branches that clawed at her skin.

She wrenched herself free whenever roots and branches caught hold of her nightgown and tangled in her hair, determined not to let her go.

She was certain the snapping of twigs and rustling leaves followed close behind.

A breath drew nearer to the back of her neck.

She never dared look back.

Then something brushed against her ankle—

And beyond the trees, the gray morning sky appeared.

She leapt over the last thick roots and hurled herself forward.

The invisible barrier surrounding the forest grazed her skin, sending a familiar, unpleasant tingling racing up to the hairs at the nape of her neck. But in that moment, it meant safety. That was all that mattered.

She hit the ground, rolling across the gray-tinged grass beyond the forest's edge.

Still fighting to steady her trembling legs and catch her breath, blood pounding loudly in her ears, she scanned her surroundings in frantic search of any witness—even though no one foolish enough would ever come this close to the border.

Then, summoning every ounce of courage she had left, she turned back toward the forest. She was certain something born of nightmares would be waiting at the invisible barrier, unable to follow her beyond it.

But there were only trees.

Darkness.

And silence once more.