Page 11 of Run, Little Doe

“Next time, Little Doe… don’t run so far.”

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Sirena

He’s gone.

The woods feel emptier for it — like something vital has been pulled from the air and taken with him. I don’t even realize I’ve been holding my breath until it escapes me in a shudder.

The night presses close again. The wind moves through the trees, whispering through the leaves like words I can’t quite hear. My pulse is still racing, too fast, too loud. My legs tremble beneath me.

I press a hand to my chest, trying to slow my heartbeat, but it only makes me more aware of it — that wild, irregular rhythm that still feels like it’s synchronizing tohis.

Somewhere in the dark, an owl calls. The echo sounds almost human.

I should move. Go back to town square. Find light, sound,people.But when I turn, I don’t recognize the path anymore. The lanterns are gone. I’ve wandered too deep. The only light left is the dim shimmer of the moonlight through the trees — too faint, too eerie.

“Get it together, Sirena,” I whisper to myself. My voice sounds strange, too small for the space around me.

I take a step. Then another. Leaves crackle beneath my boots. I tell myself I’m not running, but my pace keeps quickening, driven by something I can’t name. The air feels thick, almost wet, the scent of smoke and pine clinging to my skin.

When I finally stop, it’s only because Ifeelhim again — not close, not like before with his hand on my throat, but watching. From somewhere unseen. The hair on the back of my neck rises. My breath fogs in front of me. I spin, searching in the dark. “Where are you?”

Only silence answers.

The adrenaline starts to ebb, leaving something heavier in its place — a kind of ache, low and steady, pulsing through me. My thighs press together before I can stop myself. My body betrays me, wanting what my mind refuses to name. He could have caught me. He didn’t. That should make me feel safe. It doesn’t. It makes me wonderwhy.

The forest feels alive with the echo of his presence. Every shadow seems to breathe. Every sound feels like a heartbeat.

I lift the camera with shaking hands and snap a photo, just to prove I’m still here, that I imagined all of it. The flash bursts against the dark, and for a moment I think I see something move — the faint curve of bone, a mask glinting white — before the light fades.

When my vision clears, there’s nothing. Just the whisper of leaves. Still, the feeling lingers — like I’m being led somewhere, step by step, deeper into the dark.

I lower the camera slowly. My voice comes out soft, trembling, “Who, or what, are you?”

No answer. Just the faint echo of his last words, curling through the wind like smoke.

“Next time, Little Doe… don’t run so far.”

The shiver that moves through me isn’t fear. Not anymore.

Sirena

The forest is quiet again. Too quiet.

Every sound feels suspended — the whisper of leaves, the soft drip of dew from the branches above. My breath comes in short, uneven bursts, creating fog in the air in front of me. My heart hasn’t slowed; it is still thrumming like the drums back at the festival, wild and unsteady, echoing inside my chest.

I press my hand against a tree trunk to steady myself. The bark is cold and rough under my palm, grounding me in a way I desperately need. My legs feel weak, trembling not from fear, but from something deeper. Something that burns low and hot in my stomach.

He let me go.

Hecould have caught me.

I felt it — that moment where the air changed, where his presence was so close it felt like a shadow pressed against my skin. I thought he’d take hold of me, drag me into him — but he didn’t. He let me run.

I could feel him behind me, the ghost of his hand on my skin, his breath on my throat. Need pulses through my body, wetness gathering between my legs, and I know I’ve awakened something deep inside me. An intense need to be wanted theway this man wants me. The way he will stop at nothing to claim me.

A shiver ripples through me. I close my eyes, trying to breathe him out of my lungs, but he’s still there — that scent of smoke and pine, the ghost of his voice in my ear.