It takes a moment before I’m able to stand. I lay her down on the grass before walking away. Back to the houses and through back gardens until I find what I’m looking for—a shovel and a sheet.


    I pick the houses closest to her and start digging into the garden. The grave is shallow. I can’t take too much time, and I can feel the adrenaline leaving me the more I dig. My arms are heavy but I push through until I’m two feet deep.


    With all the care I can muster, I wrap her up and carry her to the grave. I set her down, careful not to disturb her too much and start to bury her. Burning would be better, but I can’t risk a fire burning through the village.


    I stab her sword with all my might at the head of the grave, then kneel. It’s the first time I’ve seen it up close. It’s thin, tempered with gold flecks throughout the blade. Despite its clear use, the blade remains almost perfect. Valley Beast leather and bone make up the simple pommel and grip. At the base of the blade, I see the mark of the blacksmith carved deep.


    I raise my head to the sky, looking at the sunlight. The hole is smaller now, shrinking slowly. Clapping my hands, I say, “May you rest well, Agnes Nervetti, in the gentle lands of the gods. May they guide you to your next life with love and peace, and may you always have a hand to hold.” Standing, I brush the dirt from my knees. There’s nothing more I can do for her. “It was a pleasure to know you.”


    It takes a few minutes to gather the few things I need. I take a sheet, some food, a bag for carrying, whatever arrows or weapons I can find, and— “Oh!” I rush forward and snatch the small notebook on the ground. Elena’s journal from our fight. I’ll have a lot more to tell her when I get back.


    When I step out of the village and a pressure I hadn’t noticed dissipates, leaving me lightheaded. I look back one more time before plunging ahead. The first few miles I refuse to look back. There’s nothing to gain if I don’t keep going.


    Once the village is well and truly out of sight, I stop and take the sheet from my bag. Ripping them into sheets, I wrap my hands up. It takes a few tries, but I manage to grab a low, sturdy branch and start climbing. It’s still light out so the leaves are fanned, overlapping each other to keep out any sun. With Agnes’s dagger, I cut them out of my way, careful not to let them touch my skin.


    As I reach the top, heart beating fast as I try to catch my breath, I gain a new appreciation for Peggy. She always made this look so easy. I squint, blinded by the light of day. It takes a full minute of blinking to adjust to the sight. I orient myself with the sun, and look to Thesgrea, to home.


    It’s still a ways away. Twenty miles or more that I will need to walk, but I can see it in the distance. Up and up, it sits in the distance to my left. It’s hardly more than a handful of towers, but it’s there. It’s dangerous to stay up here even during the day, but I take a moment to bask in the light. I’ll need all the energy I can get.


    It’ll be hours before I can make it back. Five or six at minimum, and with no one to watch my back, seven or eight is more likely.


    I drop down to the Valley floor, cutting through the leaves that have already grown to replace the ones I cut. Shouldering my bag, I grip the dagger and start forward. I’m almost home.


    <><><><><>


    With no one to watch over me, I’m chased through and the Valley. I have no time to eat and even less to sleep. Four hours in and my arrows are gone. Every Beast eats away the wood of the shaft and burns the feathers of the fletching. Five hours in and only I have the blades of my bow and Agnes’s dagger to rely on.


    I squat down and dig in my bag, hoping to grab something to eat. I brush across something hard and yank it out. The bread is stale and without the safety of a container, it’s succumbed to the Valley’s aura. Green and blue mold have sprouted along the edge. My stomach gnaws at itself, twitching and growling. I tear off the moldy parts and shove the rest in my mouth. It does little to soothe my stomach, but it’s better than nothing.


    Six hours in, I’ve sheathed Agnes’s dagger. I can’t risk losing it as I pin Beasts down. A stag in the midst of transforming staggers in front of me. Its antlers are still normal, but its legs are long and angular and sharp. It stares into my eyes, and I see its fear. It doesn’t know what’s happening to it and doesn’t understand why.


    It takes a step back as I take a step forward. I lower my bow and hold out my hand. It pauses, then lowers its head. I place my hand between its antlers and it leans in, taking comfort in another living being. It’s always cold in the Valley, but it’s freezing in winter. My hands are cold, but still warmer than anything else it will come across.


    I take its head off before it has time to look up. I say a prayer for what’s left of the stag and keep moving.


    Eight hours in, the trees start to thin. Light filters through the trees, though it’s faint. The sun has set and starlight shines on the ground. Exhaustion weighs on my shoulders like armor, and I struggle to keep going. One foot in front of the other. Eyes sweep the trees for threats. Hand grips the bow for support. I’ve done this for so long, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    I reach the edge of the Valley, but I don’t see the lift. In all my running around, I’ve lost track of where I’m meant to be. Above me is a small rock that, under different circumstances, would have blended into the cliff face. It looks no different from the rest other than a small heart carved into the underside.


    Years ago, Fein, Peggy, Tenley, and I went along the edge of the Valley, carving symbols into the underside of rocks embedded into the ground. It wasn’t sanctioned and every Elder was furious we’d come so close to the Valley without reporting it. It was our way of helping those in the Valley find their way back. The bigger the symbols, the closer to home you’d be. The heart I carved so may years ago is still there, guiding my way home. It’s small, but all that means is that I need to find another one. I turn right and start walking.


    The next symbol I see is a star. It’s smaller than the heart. I turn back and start running, taking off my mask to breathe harder, deeper. Heart, cross, eye, star. Heart, cross, eye, star. Heart, cross, eye, star. Heart, cross—


    A sob starts to crawl up my throat as I see the lift. I choke it back and ignore the burning in my legs and lungs and push harder. It’s still down and waiting. Waiting.


    In my excitement, I don’t notice the Beast. It’s barely a shadow on the ground, its body scraping the hard packed dirt. I lift my bow, but I’m too slow. It lurches, sinking its fangs into my arm. I grit my teeth and drop my bow, catching it in my left hand. I’m not as deft with it, but I manage to bring it down on its slimy body. It glides against the mucus but catches on one of its scales. It bites down harder, but I keep pushing until I pierce it. Its hollow scream is muffled by my arm. I take my bow and stab it into the ground. I wrap my hand around its body and start to pull. My hand burns but I keep my grip tight. It squelches, bones breaking and cracking as I pull the Beast in half.


    Its fangs are still in my arm, but I ignore it. Using my bow as a cane, I pull myself to the lift. It’s so close, but it feels so far. My vision is blurring and no amount of deep breaths will fix that.


    When my knees hit the walls of the lift, I hardly notice. I try to step over it, but fall in instead, my head hitting the hard wood. My good hand flops around, looking for the bell string. My arm is numb, I can’t see, and it’s getting colder. Wind is whipping around me, blowing through my robes.


    Something thin hits my finger and I grasp for it. My grip is weak, but I pull it. Something chimes in the distance, but it’s muffled. I pull again, hoping that Eamon is still up there. That someone is still up here.


    I can’t pull it a third time. My hand betrays me and the string slips from my grasp.


    All at once my vision clears. The moon and stars are gone as clouds roll in. Darkness overtakes me and my breath starts to falter. How stupid of me to drop my guard at the finish line. So close to home I can almost see the sun glinting off the river. Feel the cobblestones hard underfoot as I chase Vidia and Vahn through the city. Hear the chorus the priests as they practice their songs. Smell the mixed scents of fresh baked food, clay pots, beeswax candles, and parchments from the market. Taste the calming tea Elder Reggie serves when I sit in her office.


    Instead, I see the clouds growing heavy above me. Feel the wind kick up and hear the howling of the Beasts. The smell of snow is undeniable. I cough and taste my blood.


    My vision starts to blur again, and I let the tears I’ve been holding back fall. The burn against my cheeks and I can’t stop the fear that grips my heart. I don’t fear death, but I fear being yet another person to leave Vidia and Vahn behind. I fear wasting my last moments in cold darkness instead of the light and heat of the sun.


    The numbness has spread from my arm to my shoulder and slowly creeps up my neck. I stretch out my hand again, but I can’t reach the bell. No one is coming for me.


    A snowflake lands on my cheek and melts, mingling with my tears, then another. Snow flurries down on me, landing softly in my hair and melting against my skin.


    I’m so tired. I can barely keep my eyes open, and I wonder if it’s okay to close them. I can’t hear the howling of the Beasts, and I can hardly feel the snow. My promise has been fulfilled. As hard as I was able I tried to make it back and still failed. Nothing more can be asked of me.


    For a moment there is light, and the stars peak through the sheets of clouds. They are beautiful and shining and I am awed by her gift to me in this moment. Peace. A deep contentment fills me, and I pull what muscles I have control of into a smile.


    I close my eyes as a muffled voice calls out from above: “Yvanna!”


    Something heavy lands next to me and the wind is no longer whipping around me. Softness surrounds me coupled with gentle whispers. “Stay with me, Yvie,” the voice says. “Please stay with me.”


    I want to say it’s okay. That Nkam will welcome me with open arms and I can have my rest. My lips refuse to move, the numbness collapsing my throat and paralyzing my mouth.


    “Fuck,” they mutter. “Get me the— Yes, that. Okay, this is gonna hurt like hell, but bear with it.”


    Something sharp pokes my chest and fire erupts. My heart leaps as my eyes fly open. I try to sit up, but half my body is frozen. My good hand feels around my chest and pulls out a needle, dropping it to the ground. I can’t breathe, there’s not enough air to fill my lungs and—


    I lean over and throw up, blood and bile and something rancid staining the lift. There’s a hand on my back, rubbing small circles as I empty whatever I had left in me. When there’s no more bile, there’s only blood and that horrid viscous liquid inching up my throat.


    There’s a towel on my face when I’m done, wiping it clean, before handing me a bottle. The water is almost as cold as the wind, but I down it greedily. Only then, when the bottle is finished, am I brought back to myself.


    My vision is still blurry, but I squint at the person next to me, trying to make out their features in the dark. The clouds have moved back, and the snow is falling faster.


    “You’re going to feel awful for a bit, but you’ll be back in shape soon after.”


    I know that voice. It’s one that I’ve heard almost every day since I moved to Thesgrea. Elder Reggie.


    “Glad we were able to get here in time,” someone else says. My head starts swimming again, and it takes until we reach the top of the Valley for me to place them. Priya.


    When we reach the top of the Valley, they pick me up, sling one arm over each of their shoulders. “Let’s get you to a witch, Yvie.”