Milo froze at the sight of Henry’s body. Blood ran from the stab wound and stained the floor, it covered the blade of his dagger, flashes of the night he met Elm came to him.

“Milo! Milo!”

The boy snapped his head around to Elm, thinking he’d see Milanko.

“We have to go.” she said through her thick accent.

The boy took a big breath in and gripped the dagger tight, he swiftly took Elm’s hand and caught her eyes as a plan bloomed in his mind.

“Whatever I do, follow me.”

Elm instinctively nodded, now used to it. In a second, he ran, dragging her with him.

“With me!”

Milo put his shoulder forward as they ran to the door, Elm did the same, and in one push, the door slammed open, shattering the door frame around the lock.

“Stop!”

Crows ran to them for either side of the corridor. Elm’s heart skipped a beat as Milo continued to run toward the window, jumping and breaking it, taking her with him in his fall. In mid air, Milo turned around and wrapped his arm around her, taking most of the damage on his back as they crashed to grass below. The air escaped his lungs and took a few quick breaths to get back in, but the boy and Elm stood back up properly. As soon as they could, they ran, like so many times before, still followed by crows. Their yells echoed throughout the abandoned yard as they ran for their lives. They jumped over dead hedges and sunk their feet into fresh and old mounds of dirt, and jumped over a large ditch. Milo’s eyes lingered over it as he jumped. Once they landed on the other side, an audible sob came out of him, followed by more while he continued to run with Elm. The smell of rotting flesh seemed to follow them more closely than the crows. It stayed, even as the garden turned into a sparse forest. The more they ran, the less audible the voice from the crows became, they ran until their legs didn't hurt anymore and their bodies seemed to be stuck in an eternal state of constant running.

“Milo,” Elm called out, trying to break him from his trance, “Milo!”

The boy finally looked back at her, slowing his pace as he did so.

“We can stop now,”

The boy slowed down to a stop, looking around. The forest was much thicker now, and they could only hear the singing of birds and the rustling of the trees. He looked at their hands as he finally let go of hers. It was red, so red, how long had he been holding it tight? For how long had they been running? Milo’s breathing slowed down as his body relaxed, the bubble he had felt in his chest earlier getting bigger, enveloping his throat and finally popping. The boy fell on his knees, breaking into an ugly cry as he saw the ditch again, the pain on his stomach now feeling more real than ever. Tears flowed down his face as a deafening pain overcame him, turning his sobs into screams. Elm kneeled down in front of him and wrapped her arms around him, trying to help him ride the pain. Neither of them knew for how long the crying went on, but by the time Milo’s tears had dried down, the sun had lowered ever so slightly, giving the forest an eerie feel.

“Did you see them?” Milo whispered to her, sure that speaking louder would break him.

The girl nodded.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “if I could change it I would.”

Milo stuffed his face into the crook of her neck, the images of the ditch still fresh. So many bodies, mangled, butchered, rotten. So many races and yet two humans, blonde, tall, so painfully familiar. His heart clenched at the image. He was alone now. No one would ever wait for him at home, no one would run back to him after months on the sea, no one would help him with the neighborhood children, no one would crush him to make the sadness go away.

Elm stood up slowly, her heart heavy.

“We can’t stay here, we have to go.” she said as she gently tried to have him stand up.

“Where?” he whispered once more.

“Anywhere.” she answered.

Milo stood up slowly, and they walked. They stopped rarely, walking straight ahead, with no plan. They only stopped for the night, finding themselves a little corner beneath a tree, sleeping on fallen leaves and praying for the night to not be too cold. As they laid there, the smell of the leaves filling their noses, neither of them could sleep, no matter how low the moon and the stars shone, or how silent the forest was. Milo turned around, facing Elm, her gaze lost in the void. He went over her skin, now understanding the diamond-like markings on it, why her eyes looked so small, how, even on a fresh night, she laid there unmoving, shivers only affecting him. She brought her eyes up to his.

“So you really are-”

“Naëdre, yes.”

Milo thought about it for a minute.

“Your mouth-”

“I was never comfortable doing it in front of others.” she uncomfortably shifted around.

“And your fangs?”

“I’m from the pythic tribe, we don’t have venom, only strength to suffocate our prey.” she cleared up.

“I hope he’s dead then.” Milo mumbled.

“Me too.”

Her eyes went down to his stomach.

“I guess Breeze’s work was useless after all.” he chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood.

Without a word, Elm sat up and began unwrapping the cloth around her chest.

“Elm? What are you doing?”

“Lift your shirt,” she demanded.

Milo hesitantly did so, letting her wrap her cloth around him. Out of respect, he looked up, trying hard not to see her naked chest.

“It’s okay, there’s nothing to see.” she reassured him, her thick accent coming through.

She pulled away from him after she fastened the bandages, letting him look back down at her. Milo looked at her chest. It was flat. Was it supposed to be flat like that? Flat like a hlêgs chest?

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“Naëdre women have no need for a chest like your women do, I only wore it to pass as human.”

Milo nodded, but a question bloomed inside of him. He wondered if it was even respectful to ask it.

“Are you- I mean, have you always been a girl?”

“No,” she answered, surprised by his question, “I wasn’t born a girl if that’s what you ask. Naëdre people often change during their lives, for many reasons. Being a man just didn’t suit me.”

Milo smiled as he thought about it. A tribe where changing gender or sex was usual?

“I wish I had that.” he said, “In Salnas, people aren’t the most open. I made my family think the disgusted looks didn’t bother me.”

Elm suddenly wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. Milo had to look up to prevent his tears from rolling down his face again. Maybe someone would squeeze the sadness out of him after all.

"No one should go through that." she said, resting her face on his shoulder. "You deserve every bit of respect."

Milo couldn't hold in his tears anymore. He embraced Elm back and let go in her arms of all the pain he had to hide to his family. He wished he had told them he loved them before he ran away; he wished he had taken them with him to Darya's camp. He wished he had done something more. Before he could say anything, a rumbling yawn came over him, putting him in the mood to sleep right away. Elm pulled away and laid back down with him. They fell asleep quickly, holding hands in their sleep. Milo thrashed around, his restless mind carrying into the deepest of nightmares. He was home, everything was fine, the sun shone high in the sky, the children he was watching over were having fun, giggling and running around. His heart was light as his mother asked him if he needed help. He turned around, happy to answer he didn’t need any so she could rest, but the feeling turned to ash in his mouth. His mother’s skin had turned yellow and pale, her eyes were of a glassy blue, her open smile let bugs crawl out of her mouth, and bruises covered her face. Milo choked on the smell of rotten flesh as his brother walked next to him, asking him why he looked so pale. He had the same glassy eyes, his blood covered his blouse and cuts and bruises also covered his face. Milo opened his eyes, his body frozen in fear. After a few seconds, the dream settled in and he couldn’t stop crying. Before he knew it, Elm was rubbing his back, trying her best to reassure him as her own guilt kept her awake and restless. Neither of them could go back to sleep until they had fallen because of their exhaustion. Once the morning came, they walked. Where? They didn’t know. Anywhere was better than that manor. The first day they said nothing, walking numbingly, only stopping for the bare necessities and rest once in a while. They fell asleep hungry, hoping their tiresome walk would knock them out. Milo had a nightmare again, this time sleeping through the night, while Elm stayed up much farther into it, wishing she hadn’t gone out that night, wishing she had never heard that spirit, maybe then, Milo’s family would still be alive, Darya’s camp would still be up and running, maybe, so many more people would still be alive. The next day, they did the same; holding hands from time to time, hoping it would keep their minds from the hunger raging in their stomachs. The forest thinned this time, trees became more and more sparse, the bushes turned a lifeless green, as if all life had been sucked out of them; the ground was dry and dust flew around as they stepped on it. The view reminded Elm of the deserted parts between Saoudal and Dobrin, the only thing missing was the warmth. They walked until dusk once more, walking like husks, never talking, always holding hands. That night, Milo fell to the floor as they found their campsite, he especially felt empty. The pain in his stomach felt incredibly small compared to the one in his heart; it was so loud it drowned any other emotion he could have. The only thing that kept him from drifting away and never coming back was Elm’s hand. Sometimes she led, others he did, but most of the time they walked as one. Her hand was a tether as he recounted his memories, trying hard to remember his mother’s smell and the sound of his brother’s voice, afraid he would forget it now that he could never experience them again. He tried to fill his senses with them, his mother’s smell, the color of her hair, his brother’s voice, the touch of his tight hugs, and the taste of their last dinner together. Even with those thoughts filling his mind, the nightmare came again. This time their faces were rotten, their teeth showing through their holey cheeks, their noses fell off as they spoke, and maggots squirmed around in their hair. Elm woke him up that second morning, pleading with him to continue walking, afraid he’d waste away, content with the lack of food and water. After a little while, the boy stood up and walked with her. this time she led. Something was near, she could feel it. It called to her like home would. After a few hours of walking, Milo’s pace became much slower. Elm looked back at him and he looked exhausted, like all strength had been taken away from him.

“Can we stop?” he weakly asked.

“We have to continue-”

“To go where?” his voice broke and tears threatened to spill, “Neither of us know where we are or even where we’re going!” he shouted. “Even if we knew, we have nowhere to go, Elm. I don’t have a home and yours is months away from here.”

The boy fell to his knees, losing his grip on her hand.

“Can we please stop?” he asked again.

Elm looked around, millions of ideas going through her head, but all of them sounded useless. She was sure something was out there, a safe place for them. She kneeled in front of Milo, laying her hand on his shoulder.

“There is something close to us, a good place.” she said, “I’ll find it and come back for you.”

Right as she stood back up, Milo held her pant leg, gripping the fabric as he lowered his head toward the ground.

“We have to stay together,” his voice drowned in worry.

She sat next to him.

“We’ll stay here and rest.” she said.

Milo nodded. His legs and feet hurt more than standing up did, but at least he caught a break. They sat for a few minutes, or at least until their legs didn’t hurt anymore.

“Do you know where this place is?” asked Milo.

Elm shook her head.

“Not exactly, but I think it should be big, probably a forest.”

Milo thought real hard. He had heard of a forest a few days away from Salnas, but no one could enter because of the people living there, people resenting foreigners, forbidding entry to anyone who wasn’t from their own race inside. He had heard tales, or rather scary stories; they were cannibals, eating whoever entered, they had a secret cult where they sacrificed babies in the moonlight, their clothes were made of human skin, they kept horrifying creatures as slaves, and used forbidden blood magic. Milo knew all of it couldn't be true, but a part of him still shivered, the one that believed in all of those stories years ago. From what he remembered, the forest was almost only made of sycamore trees, towering over most of the forests in the region, forming a tight-knit line at its edge which made it impossible to get in.

“There is one.” he said, “Avondale. Elves live there but I’m not sure it’s a safe place.”

Elm turned around and looked into his blue eyes.

“It is safe.” she assured him.

With a smile, she stood up and offered her hand to Milo. He took it and she hoisted him up back on his feet. His legs buckled under his wait, but he found his balance in a moment. Elm shot him a look of worry, he weakly smiled back as he squeezed her hand to go forward. They walked in silence for another few hours. The ground became more dust than dirt; the plants were dead or dying and silence covered everything except the sound of their footsteps. Finally, after days of walking, there it stood. The great forest of sycamore trees that surrounded Avondale. They looked healthy, flourishing even, their green leaves looking almost unreal compared to the waste outside. Milo stopped a few feet before the tree line expecting Elm to do the same. The girl approached the trees, joy blooming in her chest and a smile stretching her lips as her hands slipped away from Milo’s. She looked at the tree trunks. They were so close she couldn’t fit further than her forearm in between them. Her eyes went down to the roots; they were intertwined, melting into each other and forming new ones that came in and out of the ground, firmly planted in it. Her gaze trailed back up the trunk. She noticed something strange, a faint mark or two on it. The more she looked the more she found. Letters, words, etched into the bark so faintly it looked as if it had always been part of it. They looked familiar, almost like the faeish she had grown up with, yet completely different. She lifted her hand to touch it as she tried to understand it, squirting her eyes to and have a better look at it.

“Elm, I really don’t think you should touch it-”

Before Milo could even finish his sentence, a pulse of light came from under Elm’s fingers, radiating throughout the trees, from the trunks down to the roots and up to the very tips of the leaves. It came and left in ripples, as if she had disturbed the peacefulness of it all. A low rumble came for the trees, their branches trembling and some of their leaves falling. Their roots took life and uprooted themselves, planting themselves elsewhere and in a matter of minutes, left an opening for the teenagers.

“Elm-”

Once more, Elm moved before he could end his sentence. The girl walked forward, dipping herself into the darkness that laid beyond the trees. An uneasy feeling kept him from stepping forward, fear paralyzing him.

“Elm?” he called out, nervous at the idea of running after her.

“Elm!”

The girl didn’t respond.

“Fuck.” he muttered under his breath.

Milo stamped forward, almost running after her. He too disappeared into the forest’s darkness.