Morning arrived slowly.
A pale gray light seeped through the cracks in the cabin walls, pushing back the darkness of night. Snow still drifted from the sky, settling gently across the silent forest.
Inside the cabin, the fire burned low.
Weak.
Flickering.
But alive.
The healer sat beside the table, his back pressed against the wall.
He had not slept.
Could not sleep.
Every sound in the forest had kept him awake.
Every shift of wind felt like danger.
Every breath the child took felt like a fragile victory.
In front of him—
Arin lay wrapped in blankets near the fire.
The fever had broken.
His breathing was steady.
Calm.
Alive.
The healer leaned forward and placed his hand gently against the child's forehead.
Cool.
At last.
Relief spread slowly through his chest.
"You fought," he whispered.
His voice rough from exhaustion.
"And you won."
Outside—
A branch snapped.
Sharp.
Sudden.
The healer froze.
His hand stopped midair.
His pulse quickened.
Slowly—
He turned his head toward the cabin door.
Listening.
Waiting.
The forest had been silent all night.
Too silent.
Now—
Something had changed.
Crunch.
A distant sound carried through the snow.
Then another.
Closer.
Heavier.
Measured.
Footsteps.
Not one.
Many.
The healer rose slowly to his feet.
Careful.
Quiet.
Every movement deliberate.
He moved toward the small window and wiped frost from the glass with his sleeve.
Outside—
At first, nothing.
Only trees.
Snow.
Stillness.
Then—
A dark figure stepped into view.
Cloaked.
Armed.
Scanning the ground.
Behind him—
More figures emerged from the forest.
One.
Three.
Six.
Ten.
Hunters.
Fear struck hard.
Fast.
Cold.
They had found them.
The healer stepped back from the window immediately.
His mind raced.
Too many enemies.
Too close.
Too late to run through the front.
But not too late to survive.
He turned toward the child.
Arin stirred slightly.
His silver eyes opened.
Quiet.
Watching.
Aware.
For a brief moment—
The boy looked directly at him.
Not confused.
Not frightened.
Present.
"We leave now," the healer whispered.
Urgency sharpened his voice.
He wrapped the blankets tightly around the child and lifted him into his arms.
Careful.
Protective.
Fast.
Outside—
One hunter stopped suddenly.
He crouched low.
Studying the snow.
His gloved hand brushed aside the surface.
Revealing the truth beneath.
Fresh footprints.
Clear.
Unmistakable.
Still warm from movement.
His head lifted slowly.
Eyes narrowing.
Voice steady.
Certain.
"They survived the night."
The other hunters moved closer.
Listening.
Watching.
Waiting.
Then he spoke again.
Colder.
Sharper.
"They are close."
Inside the cabin—
The healer moved toward the back wall.
Hidden behind a broken shelf—
A narrow trapdoor waited.
Old.
Dusty.
Almost invisible.
A final chance.
He dropped to one knee and pulled the handle.
The wood creaked open.
Darkness waited below.
Cold.
Silent.
Unknown.
Outside—
The hunters reached the cabin.
Their boots crushed the snow in steady rhythm.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Their leader stepped forward.
He studied the door.
The windows.
The smoke from the chimney.
Every detail.
Every sign.
His instincts sharpened.
"Surround the building," he ordered.
His voice was calm.
Deadly.
Certain.
The hunters spread out instantly.
No gaps.
No mistakes.
No mercy.
Inside—
The healer lowered himself into the tunnel, holding the child tightly against his chest.
His boots touched the stone floor below.
Cold.
Solid.
Real.
He pulled the trapdoor shut above him.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Outside—
The leader pushed the cabin door open.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The wood creaked.
Inside—
The room stood empty.
Silent.
Still warm.
He stepped forward.
Scanning.
Thinking.
Calculating.
Then—
His gaze fell to the floor.
To the faint scrape marks near the wall.
Recognition flashed in his eyes.
He drew his sword.
Steel slid free with a sharp metallic whisper.
His voice cut through the silence.
"Below."
Far beneath the cabin—
The healer moved through the narrow tunnel.
Breath steady.
Heart pounding.
Holding the child close.
Behind him—
The sound of boots echoed faintly through the earth.
Closer.
With every step.
Snow continued to fall over the silent forest.
Soft.
Cold.
Endless.
And beneath the frozen ground—
The hunters were no longer searching.
They were chasing.