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Story: A Hunger Soft and Wild
Aria
Theysayavampirecan’t bleed out.
Tonight, I might be the exception.
I never thought I’d flee barefoot through the woods—but here I am, stumbling through bramble and moonlight like a half-feral thing.
My cloak catches on a branch again—another sharp tug that nearly spins me sideways. I curse and yank it free, breath shallow, shoulder screaming. Every step jars the gash trailing from my collarbone to the edge of my back, left by an enforcer’s blade the moment I turned to climb the estate wall.
A punishment. A reminder. A warning.
I press a shaking hand to the wound. It’s warm and wet beneath my palm—too much blood, too fast. The scent of it coats the air, metallic and damning. A beacon. I might as well be leaving a trail for them, breadcrumbed in red. My mother’s loyal hounds—her enforcers—will follow it.
Keep going, Aria. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.
If I could just find a place to hide, to catch my breath and think, maybe I could avoid bleeding out.
The night is too quiet. No birds. No insects. Just the slap of bare feet on wet moss and mud. It’s not silence, but stillness. The kind of stillness that comes before something awful. It’s as if the forest itself is watching, waiting.
I almost laugh. This used to be my clan’s land—patrolled, safe. Now it’s possibly my execution ground.
Twigs snap behind me.
My heart stutters. I lurch forward, nearly pitching headfirst over a knotted root, catching myself on a tree trunk slick with lichen. The bark bites into my palm, grounding me.
Focus. Move.
Don’t think about the pain or the way your legs tremble.
Don’t think about how your boots were torn off in the fight, or how your mother stood at the top of the marble steps, watching you run like she was already writing your eulogy.
A bitter laugh bubbles up in my chest. She must have guessed I’d attempt this sooner or later, but I never expected her to stand back and let me fight her enforcers alone.Or was that her plan all along—to make me realize how hopeless escaping would be?The memory of her cold stare burns in my mind, a more potent wound than the gash in my shoulder.
“If you leave, never show your face again.”
Her words still throb like bruises inside my skull. She didn’t yell. She never yells. Her calm is always worse. Measured. Absolute. “You’ll die out there, Aria. You’re nothing without us. You’re not like them.”
She’s wrong. Or maybe she’s right, and I simply don’t care anymore.
The moon slips between the trees, casting silver ribbons across the forest floor. I glance down and see the cut on my shoulder again—red against pale skin, gaping and angry. The blood runs down, staining my cloak and dress.
I dig my nails into my palm to stay upright. Vampires heal faster than humans, sure. But not when we’re starved, not when the blood loss is this bad. And I haven’t fed in… gods, two days?
Panic claws at my ribs. If I stop now, they’ll catch me. And if they catch me, they’ll bring me back. And if they bring me back…my mother will deliver a punishment worse than any I’ve suffered before. Or maybe she’ll make an example of me, prove to the clan that no one—especially her daughter—defies the matriarch.
No. I won’t let that happen.
But how much further can I go like this? How much longer until my body gives out?
I blink up at the sky, its cold clarity framed by boney branches. The stars don’t care if I live or die. Why would they?
But I do.
I do.
Keep going,I chant inwardly and straighten up again—each step a small act of defiance.Just until dawn.
If I make it until dawn, I can escape them.
Theysayavampirecan’t bleed out.
Tonight, I might be the exception.
I never thought I’d flee barefoot through the woods—but here I am, stumbling through bramble and moonlight like a half-feral thing.
My cloak catches on a branch again—another sharp tug that nearly spins me sideways. I curse and yank it free, breath shallow, shoulder screaming. Every step jars the gash trailing from my collarbone to the edge of my back, left by an enforcer’s blade the moment I turned to climb the estate wall.
A punishment. A reminder. A warning.
I press a shaking hand to the wound. It’s warm and wet beneath my palm—too much blood, too fast. The scent of it coats the air, metallic and damning. A beacon. I might as well be leaving a trail for them, breadcrumbed in red. My mother’s loyal hounds—her enforcers—will follow it.
Keep going, Aria. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.
If I could just find a place to hide, to catch my breath and think, maybe I could avoid bleeding out.
The night is too quiet. No birds. No insects. Just the slap of bare feet on wet moss and mud. It’s not silence, but stillness. The kind of stillness that comes before something awful. It’s as if the forest itself is watching, waiting.
I almost laugh. This used to be my clan’s land—patrolled, safe. Now it’s possibly my execution ground.
Twigs snap behind me.
My heart stutters. I lurch forward, nearly pitching headfirst over a knotted root, catching myself on a tree trunk slick with lichen. The bark bites into my palm, grounding me.
Focus. Move.
Don’t think about the pain or the way your legs tremble.
Don’t think about how your boots were torn off in the fight, or how your mother stood at the top of the marble steps, watching you run like she was already writing your eulogy.
A bitter laugh bubbles up in my chest. She must have guessed I’d attempt this sooner or later, but I never expected her to stand back and let me fight her enforcers alone.Or was that her plan all along—to make me realize how hopeless escaping would be?The memory of her cold stare burns in my mind, a more potent wound than the gash in my shoulder.
“If you leave, never show your face again.”
Her words still throb like bruises inside my skull. She didn’t yell. She never yells. Her calm is always worse. Measured. Absolute. “You’ll die out there, Aria. You’re nothing without us. You’re not like them.”
She’s wrong. Or maybe she’s right, and I simply don’t care anymore.
The moon slips between the trees, casting silver ribbons across the forest floor. I glance down and see the cut on my shoulder again—red against pale skin, gaping and angry. The blood runs down, staining my cloak and dress.
I dig my nails into my palm to stay upright. Vampires heal faster than humans, sure. But not when we’re starved, not when the blood loss is this bad. And I haven’t fed in… gods, two days?
Panic claws at my ribs. If I stop now, they’ll catch me. And if they catch me, they’ll bring me back. And if they bring me back…my mother will deliver a punishment worse than any I’ve suffered before. Or maybe she’ll make an example of me, prove to the clan that no one—especially her daughter—defies the matriarch.
No. I won’t let that happen.
But how much further can I go like this? How much longer until my body gives out?
I blink up at the sky, its cold clarity framed by boney branches. The stars don’t care if I live or die. Why would they?
But I do.
I do.
Keep going,I chant inwardly and straighten up again—each step a small act of defiance.Just until dawn.
If I make it until dawn, I can escape them.
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