The heavy rain poured down in sheets across the village outskirts, turning the dirt paths into thick mud that clung to Saanvi’s bare feet and the thin, soaked cloth of her simple lehenga. Thunder rolled overhead as she ran, heart pounding, lungs burning. This was her final chance. The elders had already decided her fate after she refused the arranged claim, and the village square waited with its posts and ropes. She had slipped away from the hut under the cover of the storm, hoping the rain would erase her tracks and hide her scent from the hunting party.

She pushed harder through the undergrowth at the edge of the fields, water streaming down her face, mixing with the tears she refused to acknowledge. Freedom was just beyond the ridge, where the forest thickened and the old trails led toward the next settlement. Her wet blouse clung to her breasts, the fabric nearly transparent, nipples stiff from the cold. The skirt slapped against her thighs with every stride.