Aveline did not even look back.
Holding her breath and clutching her skirt, she fled as fast as her thin little legs would carry her, racing through the trees as though the forest itself had suddenly grown teeth. She did not stop until she reached the carriage.
There, she braced a trembling hand against the side of it and bent forward, panting so hard it was almost undignified.
Almost.
She tried waving herself calm with the other hand, but that only seemed to make the whole thing worse. Her chest rose and fell too quickly, her breathing refusing to settle, as though her body had decided to betray her on principle.
And then, just to deepen her misery, she heard footsteps behind her.
No.
That could not be good.
Was it Theron?
Her stomach dropped.
