Chapter 219

Blanca ran fast, her body sleek and streamlined, making a silent dash over rotting logs and moss-covered boulders. It took some time to realize she was barefoot and never once had either foot come down on a dry branch or small rock. She seemed to skim over the ground rather than pound on it. Her lungs were fine, with no fierce burning for oxygen. There was only hunger, sharp and gnawing, growing with each step she took.


Blanca slowed to a steady lope, lifting her face to the stars. Everything was so intensely beautiful. The wind carried scents, and stories. Fox kits in a den; two deer nearby, a rabbit in the brush. She stopped abruptly beside a small stream. 

She had to have a plan. Running away like a wild animal was totally ridiculous. Her hands found the trunk of a tree, fingertips feeling each whorl, hearing the sap running like blood, the very life of the tree.

She knew each insect invading it, making its home in the wood.