After that night at the campfire, four days had already passed.
Yes.
Four days.
Four days of constant travel across branches as wide as a giant's foot.
Four days of anxiety.
Four days with Carlos.
But the most potent thing those four days brought was—
"Groooopo."
I paused.
Carlos stopped examining the branch ahead and slowly looked back at me.
I gave him a weak smile.
"Uh, Carlos…"
My stomach growled again.
Louder.
More emotionally.
"I'm starving."
Carlos looked at me for a long second.
Then his own stomach growled.
He turned away.
"Me too. We haven't had anything to eat since two days ago."
Yes.
The worst part of this "trip," if it could even be called that, was hunger.
The reserves Carlos had in his emergency pouch had run out two nights ago. My own bag, of course, had been lost during the kidnapping, because apparently the universe had decided my suffering needed structure.
There had been nothing edible on this barren road for two and a half days.
Nothing.
The vines were poisonous.
The flowers were poisonous.
The glowing moss was either poisonous or magical, and I had no desire to discover a third, worse option.
Even the clear pools of liquid we found were suspicious. One smelled acidic. Another hissed when Carlos dropped a piece of bark into it.
The bark dissolved.
So that was fun.
It had rained the day before too, which had been an entire ordeal on its own.
Imagine rainwater making the already dangerous branch path worse.
Slopes became slides to death.
Climbing was taken straight out of the equation.
Walking became negotiating with gravity.
And worst of all, it was only rain.
Just rain.
Honestly, it felt like the God Tree was mocking me.
But at least by the end of it, we were alive.
Cold.
Hungry.
Irritable.
But alive.
The only thing I could wonder as I sagged along behind Carlos was how he had survived this in the original future.
How did Carlos Strega not starve to death?
He had been alone then.
No partner.
No ghosts.
No me.
I had to know.
"Well," Lazy said.
His voice interrupted my thoughts from beside me.
I gave him a sharp glare.
"Well what?"
He wagged one finger lazily.
"Well, I can tell what you are thinking. According to my estimate, Carlos would have been able to survive this stretch with only the food from his pouch."
I stared at him.
Then my expression shifted.
"Wait. You don't mean…"
"He is saying you are hungry because there are two of you now," Sleazy said, appearing on my other side.
His smile was unpleasantly amused.
"But that also means…"
He trailed off, grinning.
I looked at him.
Then at Lazy.
Then ahead.
My eyes widened.
"Kamrik," Carlos called from the front. "Look!"
I slowly turned my head.
Above us, a thin branch jutted from one of the larger limbs like a crooked finger.
Hanging from it were two bags.
Our bags.
My academy bag and Carlos's emergency pack dangled from the branch strap-first, swaying gently in the faint wind as if they had been waiting for us.
Conveniently.
Very conveniently.
Too conveniently.
I stared at them.
Then I shivered.
Lazy floated beside me, his tired eyes fixed on the bags.
"The universe will compensate for the change in plan."
Sleazy's smile thinned.
"Or something wants the plan to keep moving."
Knight's expression hardened.
"That is not comforting."
Bloody scoffed.
"Stop staring and get the bags."
I did not move.
For a moment, all the hunger faded beneath something colder.
The bags had not fallen into the lower layers.
They had not been torn apart by griffins.
They had not been carried away by smaller beasts.
They had survived four days of branch travel, rain, wind, and divine nonsense just to hang above the only path we could take.
That was not luck.
Luck did not work that hard.
Carlos looked back at me.
"What is it?"
I swallowed.
"Nothing."
Carlos's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You say that often."
"I experience nothing often."
"That sentence means nothing."
"Exactly."
Carlos looked up at the bags again.
"We need to get them down."
"Yes."
I stared at the thin branch holding our supplies.
It was not high enough to be impossible, but it was high enough to be annoying. The main branch we stood on curved upward slightly, and a cluster of golden vines wrapped around its side.
A climb.
Of course.
Because why would food simply be reachable?
Carlos adjusted his gloves.
"I can climb."
I glanced at his hands.
Then at the vines.
Then at the drop beyond the branch.
"I dislike that plan."
"You dislike every plan."
"I am consistent."
Carlos stepped toward the vines.
"You still cannot climb properly with your shoulder."
"I can be emotionally supportive from down here."
"That might be the safest thing you have said all day."
I gave him a wounded look.
"Rude, but true."
Carlos grabbed the nearest vine and tested it.
It held.
He began climbing.
Slowly.
Carefully.
I stood below, watching him move up the curve of the branch toward the bags.
The ghosts gathered around me.
Knight watched Carlos with a tense expression.
"He is skilled."
"Unfortunately," I said.
Lazy nodded.
"Good balance. Controlled breathing. He is conserving strength despite hunger."
"Again. Unfortunately."
Bloody rolled his eyes.
"You sound disappointed that he is competent."
I crossed my arms, then immediately regretted it when my shoulder complained.
I uncrossed them with dignity.
"I am disappointed that he is likable."
Sleazy hummed.
"That is more dangerous than competence."
I did not answer.
Because he was right.
Carlos reached the thin branch and stretched one arm toward the bags.
The branch creaked.
I stiffened.
Carlos paused.
The wind shifted.
The bags swayed.
He grabbed the first strap.
Then the second.
Carefully, he pulled both free and slung them over one shoulder.
For a second, everything held.
Then the thin branch snapped.
"Carlos!"
He dropped.
Not far.
But far enough.
He twisted midair, caught a vine with one hand, and slammed hard against the side of the branch.
I winced.
That looked awful.
Carlos hung there for a second, breathing sharply.
Then he looked down at me.
"I have the bags."
I stared at him.
"That was the part you focused on?"
He lowered himself back down and dropped onto the branch with more grace than anyone starving and exhausted had the right to possess.
What type of noble training did this guy do?
Because I sure as hell didn't go through this.
He handed me my bag.
The moment my fingers touched the strap, I almost cried.
Not emotionally.
Spiritually.
I opened it immediately.
Inside were the supplies I had packed before the trip.
Jerky.
Dried fruit.
Water flask.
Bandage cloth.
Small knife.
Emergency biscuits.
Beautiful.
Wonderful.
Possibly divine.
I took out a strip of jerky and stared at it like it was a religious artifact.
Carlos opened his own pack and checked the contents.
His shoulders loosened slightly.
"Most of it survived."
"Good."
I bit into the jerky.
My jaw almost cramped from joy.
For the next several minutes, neither of us spoke.
We simply ate.
Not too fast, because Carlos immediately warned me that eating too quickly after starving was a bad idea.
I hated that he was right.
Again.
Still, the first proper food in two days did something to my soul.
The world became a little less hateful.
My thoughts became less sharp.
Even the branch beneath us seemed slightly less like an elaborate murder hallway.
Slightly.
Carlos sat across from me, his back against a raised root, eating slowly.
I noticed he counted each piece before taking one.
One strip of jerky.
One dried fruit.
A sip of water.
Then pause.
Measured.
Controlled.
I frowned.
"Do you always eat like a dying accountant?"
Carlos looked at me.
"What?"
"You are counting your food like it owes you money."
"We do not know how long we will be here."
"That is true."
"So rationing matters."
"That is also true."
I reached for another strip of jerky.
Carlos caught my wrist without even looking up.
"Rations."
I stared at his hand.
Then at him.
"Food tyrant."
"Alive food tyrant."
I slowly withdrew my hand.
"I hate when villains have good points."
Carlos's hand paused.
"What?"
"Nothing. Hunger hallucination."
He watched me for a second, then let it go.
Annoying.
He was annoyingly practical.
We rested there for a while longer.
The branch was quiet.
Too quiet.
That thought had been sitting in the back of my mind for the last two days, but now that I had food in my stomach, it became harder to ignore.
No beasts had attacked us.
Not once.
We had heard them.
Distant cries.
Scratching in the bark.
Things moving above the leaves.
Once, I saw the shadow of something long slither between two branches far below us.
But nothing came near.
Nothing hunted us.
Nothing challenged us.
Nothing even tested us.
We were injured, hungry, slow, and exposed.
Sitting ducks.
Delicious, exhausted, academically underqualified sitting ducks.
And yet, the branch-forest left us alone.
That was not normal.
Carlos noticed my silence.
"What?"
I looked around.
The golden leaves shifted overhead.
The safe path curved forward, still clear.
Still open.
Still leading deeper.
"Have you noticed something?"
Carlos followed my gaze.
"The path?"
"That too."
His eyes narrowed.
"What else?"
"Nothing has attacked us."
Carlos went still.
I watched him process it.
He did not dismiss it.
That was one thing I had started to understand about Carlos.
He did not like not knowing something.
But he also did not pretend ignorance was safety.
After a moment, he said, "We have heard beasts."
"Yes."
"We have seen signs of them."
"Yes."
"But none have approached."
"Exactly."
Carlos looked toward the branch ahead.
"That could mean this route is avoided by local beasts."
"Because it is safe?"
"Or because something else claims it."
I stared at him.
"You know, I was hoping you would say something less horrible."
"I try to be accurate."
"Accuracy can still be cruel. We established this."
Carlos did not smile.
His gaze stayed on the path.
"If beasts are avoiding this route, then there is a reason."
The ghosts reacted quietly.
Knight's hand went to the hilt of his spectral sword.
Lazy floated a little higher, scanning the upper branches.
Sleazy's smile faded into something sharper.
Bloody grinned.
Of course he did.
"Finally," Bloody said. "Maybe something worth cutting."
"Do not sound excited," I muttered.
Carlos looked at me.
"Empty space?"
I gave him a weak thumbs-up.
"Atmosphere."
"The atmosphere wants to fight?"
"The atmosphere has emotional problems."
Carlos sighed.
I expected him to press further.
He did not.
Instead, he looked at our bags.
"We should keep moving."
I groaned.
"We just found food."
"And if something is avoiding this path, I would rather not sit here long enough to meet the reason."
That was fair.
Deeply unfair.
But fair.
We packed the bags again, tighter this time.
Carlos made me move some of the heavier items into his pack because my shoulder was still healing.
I objected by pointing at him with great accusation.
He ignored me.
Rude.
Kind.
Rude.
We continued down the path.
The next few hours passed in uneasy silence.
Food helped, but it did not fix everything.
Hunger had made the world sharp.
Food made the exhaustion heavier.
My legs felt like they belonged to someone else.
My shoulder throbbed with every step.
The sling helped, but only enough to make the pain annoying instead of blinding.
Carlos walked ahead, but closer than before.
Not right beside me.
But not too far either.
Every now and then, he glanced back.
Checking.
I pretended not to notice.
The path kept going.
Clear.
Stable.
Wrong.
The branch-forest around us grew stranger the deeper we walked. The leaves became broader. The bark beneath our feet shifted from pale gold to something darker, with veins of light running through it like blood beneath skin.
Pale flowers gave way to long, hanging seed pods that swayed despite the lack of wind.
I did not touch them.
Growth.
At some point, Carlos stopped beside a cluster of flat, blue-white mushrooms growing along the side of a branch.
I froze.
"Food?"
Carlos crouched, studying them.
"Maybe."
That single word nearly made me ascend.
"Maybe is good."
"Maybe is dangerous."
"Maybe is better than no."
Carlos opened one of his books.
Of course he had a book.
Of course.
It was small, water-damaged, and filled with pressed sketches of plants and notes written in tiny handwriting.
I stared.
"You had a field guide this whole time?"
"It was in my pack."
"And you did not mention it?"
"We did not have the pack."
I raised a finger.
Lowered it.
"That is annoyingly logical."
He compared the mushrooms to a page in the book.
Then frowned.
"These might be moon-cap fungi."
"Edible?"
"If cooked properly."
I clasped my hands together.
"Carlos Strega, I take back one insult."
"One?"
"Do not get greedy."
He carefully cut several mushrooms and placed them into a cloth pouch.
Farther down the path, we found more.
Small clusters of bitter-smelling berries.
A vine with pale tubers hidden beneath loose bark.
A patch of flat leaves Carlos said could be boiled.
Slowly, horribly, wonderfully, our food problem became less immediate.
Not solved.
But less immediate.
For the first time in days, I felt something dangerous.
Hope.
I hated hope.
Hope was how the universe tricked people into becoming targets.
We stopped near a wide bend in the branch where a small hollow collected rainwater that did not hiss, smoke, bubble, glow, scream, or dissolve bark.
Carlos tested it three different ways before letting me drink.
Food tyrant.
Water tyrant.
Survival tyrant.
Useful tyrant.
We cooked the mushrooms over a small controlled flame and ate them with strips of jerky.
They tasted like damp bark and regret.
I nearly cried anyway.
"Disgusting," I said.
Carlos took another bite.
"Edible."
"Those are not opposites."
"No. But only one matters."
I looked at the mushroom in my hand.
Then ate it.
He was right.
Again.
At this point, it was becoming personal.
The more we ate, the more normal Carlos became.
Not relaxed.
Never fully relaxed.
But less guarded.
He corrected the way I tied the food pouch.
He showed me which bark strips could be used as dry kindling.
He explained that some branch moss grew toward stable ground, which meant it could help with direction.
I called him bossy.
He called me reckless.
I said that was slander.
He said it was a field diagnosis.
It was stupid.
Small.
Almost peaceful.
Which meant something terrible was definitely coming.
"Enough."
Bloody's voice cut through the moment.
I looked to my side.
He stood a few steps away, arms crossed, red eyes fixed on Carlos. His exposed heart beat slowly in the hole in his chest.
Wet.
Heavy.
Irritated.
"What?" I muttered.
Carlos looked up.
"Hm?"
"Nothing," I said quickly. "Atmosphere."
Carlos frowned, but returned to packing the mushrooms.
Bloody did not move.
"I said enough, maggot."
Sleazy's expression went still.
Lazy's eyes opened a fraction wider.
Knight's hand lowered to the hilt of his spectral sword.
That alone was enough to make my stomach twist.
"What are you talking about?" I whispered.
Bloody's mouth twisted.
"You know what I am talking about."
Carlos folded the food pouch and tied it shut.
He did not hear any of this.
That made it worse.
Bloody stepped closer.
"You are laughing with him."
My fingers tightened around the strip of cloth in my hand.
"He is helping us survive."
"He is Carlos Strega."
The name came out like a blade dragged across stone.
"I know who he is."
"No," Bloody said, his voice dropping. "You know what he becomes. That is not the same thing."
I went still.
For once, there was no manic amusement in Bloody's face.
No wild grin.
No performance.
Just disgust.
"You know the story from far away. Cities fell. People died. The world burned. How tragic. How terrible. How useful for your little conscience."
His red eyes narrowed.
"But you did not see him up close."
The branch-forest seemed to quiet around us.
Bloody looked toward Carlos again.
"We did."
I swallowed.
Knight finally spoke.
"Bloody."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Bloody glanced at him.
"What? Going to defend him too?"
Knight did not answer immediately.
He stepped forward instead.
His armor made no sound, but the air seemed to tighten around him. When I looked at his eyes, I saw it.
Not the warm steadiness he usually wore.
Not the tired patience.
Black anger moved beneath his gaze like smoke trapped under glass.
And beneath that anger was grief.
So much grief it almost made me look away.
Knight's voice stayed measured.
"That boy has not yet committed those crimes."
Bloody scoffed.
"Exactly the pathetic excuse I expected."
Knight's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.
"I was not finished."
Bloody stopped.
So did I.
Knight looked past me, toward Carlos.
Carlos was still tying the pouch, unaware that four dead versions of me were deciding whether he deserved to keep breathing.
Knight's jaw shifted once.
"When Carlos Strega took command, he did not simply kill soldiers. He broke retreats. He found evacuation routes. He struck shelters because he understood that armies could endure losses, but parents could not endure hearing their children scream from behind sealed doors."
His voice did not rise.
That made it worse.
"He turned mercy into bait. He left wounded people alive because others would come for them. He spared messengers only when their fear carried more damage than their deaths."
The blackness in his eyes deepened.
"I had people under my command. Students. Friends. A woman who trusted me to bring her younger brother home."
His throat moved.
"I failed them."
The words were quiet.
Controlled.
Almost formal.
But the grief inside them was not.
"I have imagined killing Carlos Strega more times than I care to admit."
My chest tightened.
Knight looked at me then.
"And I am ashamed of that."
That hit harder than Bloody's anger.
Knight's expression did not break, but his eyes looked like a storm sealed behind a door.
"I am ashamed because I can see him sitting there. I can see that he is young. I can see that he is frightened. I can see that he has helped you."
He drew in a slow breath.
"But I also remember what he became. I remember the names of the people who never came back. I remember the ones who did."
His voice lowered.
"And sometimes, young man, grief does not care that its target is innocent today."
I could not answer.
Lazy floated down beside Knight.
His voice was quieter than usual.
"Carlos Strega was efficient. That was the worst part. He was not wasteful with cruelty. Every massacre produced a result. Every spared survivor carried a message. Every display of mercy created dependence. Every betrayal created obedience."
His tired eyes moved to Carlos.
"You see contradictions in him because you are meeting him before the system finishes shaping him. We saw the finished product."
Sleazy smiled faintly, but there was no humor in it.
"I saw rooms full of people kneeling because they thought obedience would save someone else. A child. A sibling. A lover."
His gaze darkened.
"They were wrong."
The fire popped behind me.
Carlos glanced over.
"You okay?"
I forced my mouth into something close to a smile.
"Yeah. Just tired."
He studied me for a second, then returned to the pouch.
Bloody stepped closer again.
His grin returned, but it was sharper now.
Crueler.
"There. You hear them?"
I did not look at him.
He leaned near my ear.
"You never loved anyone he killed."
My eyes snapped to him.
Bloody did not flinch.
"You saw his crimes from a distance. We saw the bodies. You saw the end of the world. We lived long enough to bury pieces of it."
Knight's expression tightened, but he did not correct him.
Bloody's voice became a hammer.
"You do not share our hatred because you did not pay our price."
I stood too quickly.
Pain flashed through my shoulder.
Carlos looked up again.
"Kamrik?"
"I need a second."
His eyes flicked toward the path.
"Do not go far."
"I won't."
I walked a few steps away before stopping near the edge of the branch.
Not close enough to fall.
I was reckless, not dedicated.
The ghosts followed.
All four of them.
Bloody first.
Then Knight.
Then Lazy.
Then Sleazy, quiet as a shadow.
I kept my voice low.
"He has not done anything yet."
Bloody laughed.
It was ugly.
"There it is."
"What?"
"That pathetic excuse."
"It is not an excuse."
"It is exactly an excuse."
My jaw tightened.
"I am not killing him because of something he has not done yet."
Bloody stepped forward, but Knight raised one hand.
Bloody stopped.
Barely.
Knight looked at me.
That black anger still moved in his eyes, but his voice remained steady.
"You are right."
The words surprised me.
Knight's face twisted slightly, like admitting it hurt.
"And that is what makes this unbearable."
I said nothing.
He looked back toward Carlos.
"If he were already the man we knew, I would not hesitate."
His hand trembled once on the sword hilt.
Only once.
"But he is not. Not yet."
Bloody snarled.
"And when he becomes that man?"
Knight closed his eyes.
Pain crossed his face.
"When he becomes that man, I will be the first to tell Kamrik to draw the blade."
Silence.
Heavy.
Awful.
Knight opened his eyes again.
"But not before."
Bloody stared at him like he had been betrayed.
Sleazy watched with unreadable eyes.
Lazy said nothing.
I swallowed.
"Then why are you angry at me?"
Knight looked at me.
"Because part of me wants you to be wrong."
The honesty of it punched the air out of my chest.
His voice stayed quiet.
"Part of me wants you to give in so I do not have to keep being better than my grief."
No one spoke.
Not even Bloody.
I looked back toward Carlos.
He was still near the small fire, pretending not to watch me.
Pretending badly.
Maybe that was something we had in common.
"I am not saying your pain does not matter," I said.
My voice felt rough.
"I am saying if I kill him now, right now, while he is this, then I am not stopping a monster."
My hands curled.
"I am creating one inside myself."
Sleazy's gaze shifted.
Lazy watched me without blinking.
Knight lowered his eyes.
Bloody looked disgusted.
"You think the world cares what it makes you?" Bloody asked.
"No," I said.
My voice lowered.
"I think the world does not care at all. That is why I have to."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Awful.
Then Bloody leaned closer.
"You will regret this."
I looked at him.
"I already do."
His expression faltered.
Only for a second.
I turned back toward Carlos.
"We find the thing waiting for him first. We stop that. We keep him away from it. That is the plan."
Lazy tilted his head.
"And if the plan fails?"
The question was soft.
Too soft.
I did not look at Carlos.
"If the plan fails, then I will decide at the last possible second."
Bloody smiled.
There was no joy in it.
"Coward."
Maybe.
Probably.
But I walked back anyway.
Carlos looked up as I approached.
"You were talking to yourself again."
"Mentally impaired, remember?"
"I remember."
His gaze moved over my face.
"You look angry."
"I am hungry."
"We just ate."
"Emotionally hungry."
"That is not a thing."
"You lack imagination."
Carlos looked like he wanted to argue, but before he could, the branch beneath us trembled.
Once.
Softly.
Then again.
Carlos went still.
I froze.
The ghosts turned.
The branch wall beside us moved.
No.
Not moved.
Opened.
A section of dark bark split apart, revealing a long, narrow eye.
My blood went cold.
Carlos whispered, "Do not move."
For once, I obeyed without making a joke.
The eye blinked.
Slowly.
Then the branch beneath us trembled.
The bark wall unfolded.
A beast pulled itself free from the wood.
It was long and flat, like some horrible mixture of lizard, centipede, and living branch. Its body was covered in bark-like armor, and golden moss grew along its spine. Dozens of thin legs gripped the surface beneath it, each ending in hooked claws.
Its head turned toward us.
No mouth.
Just that one long eye.
Then the bark beneath the eye split open.
Ah.
There was the mouth.
Rows of wooden teeth unfolded.
Carlos swore under his breath.
Just one word.
Quiet.
Serious.
"Shit."
I appreciated the restraint.
I also agreed with the sentiment.
The beast lunged.
Carlos moved first, grabbing my good arm and yanking me backward.
Teeth snapped shut where my head had been.
Splinters exploded across the path.
"Run!" Carlos shouted.
I did not need the encouragement.
We ran.
The beast moved with horrifying speed, its many legs scraping across the bark behind us.
The path narrowed ahead.
Of course it did.
Because the universe had comedic timing and murder intent.
"Left!" Lazy shouted.
"There is no left!" I yelled.
"There will be!"
"What does that mean?"
The branch beneath us curved sharply.
Carlos skidded.
I nearly slammed into him.
Ahead, the path split for the first time in days.
One branch continued forward.
Clear.
Stable.
Suspicious.
The other veered down and away, narrower, half-hidden beneath hanging leaves.
Carlos chose the clear path.
The beast struck.
Not at us.
At the branch.
Its body slammed into the wood with enough force to crack the path ahead.
A deep split raced through the bark.
The clear route broke apart.
Pieces of branch collapsed into the layers below.
Carlos grabbed my sling strap and pulled me back before I could stumble forward.
My stomach dropped.
Our only safe path vanished in a storm of falling bark.
For one frozen second, I understood.
Not an accident.
Correction.
The universe had given us supplies.
Then it had taken away the road.
The beast screamed.
This time, the sound came from the slit of its mouth, wet and wooden and wrong.
"Down!" Carlos snapped.
He shoved me toward the narrow side branch.
We ran.
The beast followed.
Barely.
Its larger body struggled to fit between the hanging leaves and twisting limbs. It thrashed against the branches, snapping smaller growths as it forced itself after us.
One of its claws caught Carlos's pack.
The strap tore.
Food spilled.
Jerky.
Mushrooms.
Berries.
Water flask.
Everything scattered across the branch.
"No!" I shouted.
Carlos twisted, trying to grab the pack.
The beast lunged again.
Knight's voice cut through the chaos.
"Leave it!"
Carlos hesitated.
I did not.
I grabbed the back of his coat and pulled with everything my injured body had left.
The beast's teeth snapped shut on the pack.
The entire bag vanished into its mouth.
For a second, I stared.
Our food.
Our water.
Our wonderful, disgusting mushrooms.
Gone.
The beast chewed.
A small part of me died.
Then the branch beneath us cracked.
Carlos and I looked down.
"Oh, come on," I said.
The narrow branch split.
The world dropped.
Carlos grabbed me.
I grabbed him.
For one stupid, desperate moment, we were both holding onto each other while the branch collapsed beneath our feet.
Then gravity won.
We fell.
Not far enough to kill us.
Far enough to hurt.
We slammed onto another branch below, rolled across slick moss, and crashed into a cluster of soft golden leaves.
Pain burst across my ribs.
My shoulder screamed.
Carlos landed beside me with a sharp grunt.
Above us, the beast thrashed at the edge of the broken branch, too large to follow. Its long eye stared down at us.
Then, slowly, it withdrew into the branch-forest.
Gone.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
I stared upward at the layers of leaves and broken bark above us.
Carlos breathed hard beside me.
The ghosts appeared one by one.
Knight looked furious.
Lazy looked grim.
Sleazy looked thoughtful.
Bloody looked entertained.
I slowly turned my head toward Carlos.
"Good news."
Carlos closed his eyes.
"Do not."
"We found food."
"Kamrik."
"And then we lost food."
"Stop."
"So technically, today was balanced."
Carlos covered his face with one hand.
Then, very quietly, he laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was either laugh or break.
I understood that feeling very well.
I laughed too.
A little.
Then my stomach growled.
The laughter died.
We both stared at nothing.
Our packs were gone.
The food was gone.
The water was gone.
The path above was broken.
And we were now on a random branch neither of us had chosen.
Carlos slowly sat up, his face pale beneath the dirt and scratches.
"We need to keep moving."
I looked around.
The branch we had fallen onto was narrower than the last path, darker too. Thick leaves curled overhead, blocking most of the golden light. The air felt colder here.
Wetter.
Wrong.
I pushed myself upright with a groan.
"Yeah."
My voice sounded hollow.
"Let's move."
Somewhere above us, hidden behind layers of living wood, something shifted.
I looked back once.
The broken path was gone from sight.
The safe route was gone.
The food was gone.
The only thing left was the branch beneath our feet, curving into the dark.
For the first time since the griffins took us, the Western Branch no longer felt like it was guiding us gently.
It felt like it had closed its hand.
And we were inside the fist.