Page 118 of Fire and Silk

Shouts echo behind us.

Then gunfire.

“Duck!” Severo shouts, grabbing my shoulder and throwing himself sideways over me. I hit the dirt, his weight covering mine, shielding me.

Bullets rip into the trees above. Leaves scatter. Bark splits open.

We scramble forward again.

****

The trees thicken around us: branches tangled like a net above. The night breeze trickles through in thin beams, warm when it lands on my face, gone the moment we step into shadow. My feet scrape over roots and broken leaves. My legs ache. My throat burns. The sound of rushing blood has long drowned out the sound of pursuit.

We’ve been walking for hours.

Severo keeps glancing back at me, his pace slowing every few minutes. I nod when he looks, even when I feel like my lungs are full of glass. I don’t want him to stop. I want to keep up. But when the ground slants again and the trees lean tight on either side, something folds inside me. My knees hit the earth.

I don’t cry out. I just fall forward, hands catching in the soil. I breathe . Then again. My arms shake.

Behind me, Severo crouches low. His hand is already on my shoulder. “Lira.”

I lift my face.

His expression is calm, steady. But I see it—his jaw’s tight. Sweat glints at his temple. He’s tired too, but he hides it better.

“Climb on,” he says, crouching further. “I’ll carry you.”

“I’m too heavy,” I mutter, shaking my head. “You’ll slow down.”

He reaches for my arm, helping me upright. “This part of the forest isn’t like the rest. It’s why they stopped chasing us.”

I blink at him. “What?”

“Wild boars,” he says. “Dense terrain. No marked paths. They wouldn’t risk it without backup or gear. We have maybe a few more hours to clear this before nightfall.”

My heart races. “If it’s dangerous, why are we here?”

His thumb brushes against my cheek, and his voice lowers. “Because it’s a shorter route to the campground. And because I know how to move through it. Trust me.”

My throat tightens. I look at him—really look—and something in me gives. I nod.

He turns, kneels again. “Get on.”

I climb up slowly, my arms wrapping around his shoulders, my legs hooking around his waist. His hands slip under my knees, adjusting, lifting. His back is warm. His breathing steady. He rises to his feet in one smooth motion.

The forest feels different from here.

We walk.

Leaves crunch underfoot, birds cry overhead, and the weight of silence settles back in. After a while, I speak.

“Are you tired?”

“No.”

I rest my chin on his shoulder. “I feel bad. For being weak.”

His fingers tighten slightly beneath my legs. “You aren’t. You did so well back there.” A pause. “I’m proud of you.”