I start moving and I don’t stop even when my body threatens to force me to. The forest stretches endlessly around me, unfamiliar and unwelcoming, but I push forward anyway, one shaky step after another, with my daughter held tightly against my chest. Every muscle in my body aches. Every breath I let out from my chest burns my lungs, yet I don’t allow myself to slow down. Not yet. The memory of phantom explosions and ghostly screams still echoes too clearly in my mind. The fear that the witch hunters will be back makes a chill spread down my spine, and this time knowing that the masked stranger isn't here, it makes me feel weak and powerless for a second. I don't know when I started relying on him so much, but I have. I never believed I would be able to take on the witch hunters by myself, and while he was here, I didn't have to. Now that he's gone, there's only a crippling fear in my heart that I won't survive the next second. Still, I push it all down and continue walking. Onl
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