Evan's eyes snapped open.
Darkness. Complete darkness.
Stars overhead, visible through the gaps in the upturned roots. The moon high and white in the sky, well past its peak.
Midnight. Past midnight.
He'd slept through the evening. Through sunset. Through the entire window.
Panic hit him like a physical thing, a fist to the chest. The barrier. The coordinates. The shift. It happened at sunset — every time, at sunset — and he had slept through sunset like a fool, like a fever-addled, exhausted, reckless fool, and nine months, they were looking at nine more months of running and—
Wait.
He stopped the spiral.
Forced himself to think instead of just drown.
Anaya.
When the barrier shifted, she'd feel it. That was the thing about the pull — she'd described it clearly enough. It was present, it was constant, it was a thread connecting her to home. If that thread had snapped, she would know. She'd have woken up. She'd be in pieces.
He looked down at her.
She was still tucked against his good side, fast asleep, her face completely relaxed. One hand loosely curled against his jacket. Her breathing slow and even. The small furrow she got between her brows when she was worried — not there.
She looked like a child who had no idea the world was ending.
Which meant, maybe, it wasn't.
Either the barrier hadn't shifted yet.
Or they were too far to feel it.
He didn't know which was worse to think about. So he stopped thinking entirely and started moving.
"Anaya." He shook her as gently as he could manage. "Hey. Little light. Wake up."
A small sound. The sound she made when waking up was deeply inconvenient. "Mm."
"I need you to wake up right now. Right now, not in five minutes."
"Is it morning?" she mumbled, eyes still closed.
"It's past midnight. We slept too long. Come on." He got to his feet with his good arm braced against the bark, the rest of his body lodging a formal complaint in every direction. Shoulder. Legs. Head, where the fever sat like a stone behind his eyes. "Up. Now. Please."
She sat up, rubbing her eyes with her fists. Took in the darkness, the stars, the moon. Her face shifted from sleepy to alert in about half a second — that particular skill she had, the one he'd never quite figured out how to do himself.
"We overslept."
"We overslept."
"But the barrier—"
"I don't know." He kept his voice steady, which took effort. "I don't know if it shifted yet. That's why we need to go. Right now. As fast as we can."
"But how do we find—"
"I don't know that either. I was hoping you might feel something."
She was on her feet before he finished the sentence. Already doing the thing she did when she was trying hard — standing very still, eyes closing, hands loose at her sides. He'd seen it when she listened at doors. When she tried to sense the mood of a room. When she pressed her hands against trees and waited for something he couldn't feel.
He waited. His shoulder throbbed. The fever pushed at the edges of his thinking.
Please, he thought, to nobody in particular. Come on. Just this one thing.
Then Anaya's whole face changed.
Her eyes flew open. And what was in them—
She pressed both hands flat against her chest. Hard. Like she was trying to hold something in or maybe hold something still long enough to be sure it was real.
"Papa," she breathed. "Papa. It's there."
"The barrier?"
"I can feel it." Her voice cracked on the words. "It's still there. It hasn't moved. It's—" She stopped. Pressed her hands harder. "It's like — you know when you've been away from home and you're nearly there and you recognise the smell of it? Before you even see it?"
Evan's chest did something that wasn't quite breathing. "Yeah."
"It's like that. Exactly like that." Her amber eyes were enormous and very bright. "Papa." She grabbed his jacket with both fists, shaking him, actually shaking him, grinning so wide it looked like it hurt. "Papa, we're going home! We're going HOME! We're going HOME we're going HOME—"
And something happened to Evan that he was entirely unprepared for.
He laughed.
Not a relief laugh. Not a desperate, what-else-can-you-do laugh. A real one. From somewhere low in his chest where he hadn't felt anything unclenching in a very long time.
"We're going home," he said back. Matching her energy completely, all guard and fever and exhaustion entirely forgotten for this one moment. "We are going HOME—"
"We're going HOME!" She bounced on her heels.
"Home! We're actually going home—"
"PAPA, we're going HOME—"
"I KNOW, I KNOW—"
She launched herself at him, arms around his neck, and he caught her with his good arm and held on. She was laughing against his shoulder, the real kind of laughing that was also crying a little, or maybe the crying kind that was also laughing.
He might have been doing the same.
He chose not to examine it closely.
"Okay." He set her down, pulling himself together. Put his hands on her shoulders. Steady. Responsible. The adult in this situation. "Okay. Which direction?"
She turned in a slow circle, eyes closing again, tuning herself to something he couldn't access. Then she stopped. Pointed without hesitation.
Southwest.
Of course it was southwest. He'd been heading right all along. Of course.
"How far?"
"I don't—" She scrunched her face up, concentrating. "Close. Not right-there close, but close. Like—like the last part of the journey where you can see your door but you're still walking."
He'd take it. He'd absolutely take it.
"Can you guide us? Keep feeling for it while we move?"
"Yes. I think so." She held her hand out to him. Completely matter-of-fact. Completely certain.
He took it.
They moved.
The forest at midnight was a different thing to the forest in daylight. Quieter. Denser. The dark between the trees absolute in a way that pressed against Evan's eyes.
But Anaya didn't hesitate. She walked with the confidence of someone being pulled rather than navigating, and he followed her lead, doing what he was increasingly good at: trusting this small person completely.
She kept one hand in his and the other pressed to her chest at intervals, checking the pull like a compass heading. "Still there," she'd murmur, every few minutes. "Getting stronger."
He watched her as they walked.
She was different out here than she'd been at Haven, or in the compound, or in the early days on the road when she'd had to hold herself very carefully still and small. Out here in the dark forest with home pulling at her chest and her feet finding the path — she moved like something that belonged. Like the forest knew her. Like she knew it back.
He thought about the river that morning. The way the water had moved upstream, just for a moment, just long enough. The way she'd been so certain.
Just a little further—
"Papa, it's RIGHT THERE! I can almost—"
Voices.
Behind them.
Human voices.
Evan's blood turned to ice.
He grabbed Anaya, pulling her down into a crouch behind a thick bush. Pressed his hand over her mouth gently.
"Quiet," he breathed. "Someone's there."
The voices got closer. Flashlight beams cutting through the darkness.
"—can't have gone far. Cross is wounded. Probably collapsed somewhere—"
"Sir, we've been searching for hours. Maybe we should—"
"We should NOTHING until we find them!"
Morrison.
Of course it was Morrison.
How? How had he found them? They'd been so careful, hidden their trail, moved in darkness—
Unless they hadn't been careful enough. Unless Evan's fever-addled brain had made mistakes. Left signs. Broken branches. Disturbed ground.
Damn it.
Through the bushes, Evan could see them. Morrison and three soldiers, all looking exhausted. Morrison's uniform was dirty, torn. His face haggard. They'd been searching all night, clearly. Pushing just as hard as Evan had been.
But they were here. Between Evan and Anaya and the barrier.
Morrison looked wild. Unhinged. His carefully controlled professional mask completely gone.
"The camera," he was muttering to one of the soldiers. "The fake. He made a FOOL of me. Sent me chasing a toy while he escaped with the real footage. Command is furious. Hayes is furious. I'm—" He laughed, the sound brittle and wrong. "I'm finished if I don't bring him in. Finished."
"Sir, maybe we should call for backup—"
"NO BACKUP! This is MY hunt! MY capture!" Morrison spun toward the soldier. "We find them. We bring them in. And then I personally make Cross regret every decision he's made since the day he betrayed us. The day he betrayed me." Something was different in Morrison's voice like he was treating it personal.
Anaya was shaking against Evan's side. Not from fear—from frustration. She kept glancing at the trees, at the bushes, like she was waiting for something.
Like she still believed they'd help.
Evan's heart broke a little.
"Anaya," he whispered directly into her ear. "Listen carefully. I'm going to go to them."
Her eyes went huge. She shook her head violently.
"I'll distract them. Lead them away. You run. That direction—" He pointed southwest. "Toward the barrier. As fast as you can. Don't stop. Don't look back."
She grabbed his jacket, pulling him close, shaking her head frantically.
"You can do this," he whispered. "You're so close. I can feel it too now—the magic. It's right there. Just run. Get home. Tell your mama about good things . Tell her—"
Anaya's small hands grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes were swimming with tears but her expression was determined.
She mouthed: NO.
"Baby, please—"
She pressed her hand over his heart. I carry you with me. Always.
Then she pointed at the forest around them. At the trees. At the ground. Asking him—begging him—to trust. To believe.
Evan looked at the silent forest. The unresponsive trees. The normal bushes and stones and earth.
Nature that didn't care. Couldn't care.
But Anaya's face was so full of hope. So certain.
"Okay," he breathed, though he didn't believe it. "Okay, little light."
Anaya watched, understanding dawning on her face. She shook her head again, tears spilling over.
He stood slowly, his movements deliberate. Started gathering leaves and branches, piling them into his jacket. Creating a bundle roughly child-sized.
"I'll be right behind you," Evan lied. "I'll distract them, then circle around. Meet you at the barrier. I promise."
Another lie.
But necessary.
He handed her the real camera bag. "Keep this safe. Get it across. There are memories. Of you and me. Of haven."
She took it with trembling hands.
"When I move, you run. Understand?"
A tiny nod.
Evan kissed her forehead. "I love you, little light. More than anything."
Then he stood, clutching the bundle of leaves and branches, and stepped out from behind the bush.
"MORRISON!"
The flashlight beams swung toward him immediately. Morrison's face twisted into something between triumph and rage and betrayel.
"Cross. Finally." He started forward. "Where's the girl?"
"Right here." Evan held up the bundle, keeping it pressed against his chest like he was protecting something precious. "You want her? Come get her."
He started walking. Away from where Anaya was hiding. Away from the barrier.
Drawing them away.
Anaya's wanted to say something. Wanted him to stop.
Evan didn't look back. Couldn't look back. "RUN, ANAYA! RUN NOW!"
"Stop him!" Morrison shouted. "Get the child!"
One of the soldiers started toward where Evan was standing.
Anaya was running but seeing that she shouted.
And then—
A roar split the night.
Massive. Primal. Absolutely terrifying.
Everyone froze.
From the darkness between the trees, something emerged.
A bear.
Massive. Eight feet tall when it reared up on its hind legs. Black fur rippling with muscle. Eyes reflecting the flashlight beams like coins.
It stood directly between the soldiers and where Evan was .
And roared again.
The soldiers scrambled backward, weapons raised but hands shaking.
"What the—where did that come from?" Morrison demanded.
"Sir, we need to fall back! That's a Kodiak! They don't live in this region but—"
The bear roared a third time, taking a step toward them. Aggressive. Protective.
Like it was guarding something.
Morrison fired. The shot went wide, hitting a tree trunk. The bear didn't even flinch.
"MOVE!" Morrison screamed at his soldiers. "Get away from it!"
They scrambled, retreating, creating chaos and confusion and noise.
And in that moment—that perfect, impossible moment—Evan felt it.
A small hand slipping into his.
Anaya.
She'd circled around in the confusion. Was right beside him.
Her face was alight with something beyond triumph. Beyond vindication.
Pure joy.
"Papa," she whispered. "We don't have time to waste."
Evan stared at the bear. At the way it was deliberately blocking Morrison and his soldiers. At the way it had appeared from nowhere at exactly the right moment.
Impossible.
But happening.
He looked down at Anaya. Wondered.
"Run now." She tugged his hand. "Please, Papa."
He did.
They ran.
Behind them, Morrison's voice rose in fury: "CROSS! CROSS, GET BACK HERE!"
A gunshot. Then another. But they were shooting at the bear, not at Evan and Anaya.
The bear roared again, holding their attention.
Evan and Anaya crashed through the undergrowth, branches whipping at their faces. Anaya's hand was firm in his, pulling him forward, guiding him.
This way!" she gasped. "The pull is so strong! We're almost—"
More gunfire.
But different this time. Coming from a different direction.
"What—" Evan tried to turn, to see—
His foot caught on something. A root. A rock. He didn't know.
They went down hard.
Anaya hit the ground and rolled, coming up with leaves in her hair but otherwise unhurt.
Evan wasn't so lucky.
He fell into the exposed root system of a massive tree, his body slamming against twisted wood. Something sharp—something—drove into his left leg just above the knee.
Pain exploded white-hot and immediate.
"Papa!" Anaya scrambled to him. "Papa, are you—"