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... east, that’s what it looked like: a pocket carved between the tangled trunks, just enough space to turn around, regain footing, breathe for a second... if they even had that luxury.

Élisa skidded to a halt, slipping slightly on the damp moss. She turned around. The others understood without a word.

The bitter truth had hit, once again: they wouldn’t outrun it. Not on terrain this treacherous. Not with that thing chasing them.

She gripped her daggers. The metal nearly slid ...

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