Saanvi ran deeper into the dense misty forest, her bare feet slipping on the wet moss and fallen leaves. The thick fog clung to her skin like a second layer, cold and damp, soaking through the thin torn fabric of her blouse and skirt. Branches whipped at her arms and face, leaving thin red scratches, but she did not slow down. Behind her the shouts of the young villagers echoed, growing closer with every labored breath she took. Her chest burned. Her legs trembled. She had thought the trees would hide her, that the mist would swallow her scent and her tracks. She was wrong.

Veer led them. She had seen him earlier in the village square, the way the other boys looked to him, the quiet confidence in his stride, the bow slung across his back and the knife at his hip. He was the best hunter among them, everyone said so. Now he hunted her.