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The moon was high in the sky, a sliver of silver against the darkness of the nights. Stars shone down on the forest, twinkling and bright, spots of light against the midnight sky. The very air seemed to hold its breath, and the only sounds in the woods were the soft rustling of leaves and the distant calling of owls. And panting, gasping breath. Fuu’s breath shuddered and jolted out of her chest with each hurried footfall, each running step that propelled her through the shadowy forest. Her hands clutched onto her ragged skirts as her hair streamed behind her. Branches and thorns snagged on her hair, catching around her ankles. She staggered and stumbled but pressed on. Her heart pounded in her chest as she sprinted. She didn’t even dare to glance behind, at the shouting and distant sounds of horses and armor. She couldn’t afford not to see the path ahead. It was the only hope she had of outrunning the soldiers. She wasn’t a warrior, wasn’t even athletic—but she had a head start. That sleeping herb had worked wonderfully for knocking out one of her guards. The other guard, Jin, had gotten separated from her in the chaos of her escape. Though she was loathe to press on without him, she had no choice. She refused to be caught, refused to be dragged back into the life she was so desperately trying to run away from. She would not be married off by her uncle for political reasons. She would not be the wife of an enemy, a bargaining chip in securing a flimsy peace treaty that ultimately amounted to nothing at all. “I will get away,” she gasped to herself, her lungs aching with the burn of strain and effort. “If it’s the last thing I do.” Without Jin, though, and without the map he’d tucked into his saddlebag, she had no way of truly knowing which direction she was running. All she knew is that she was sprinting the opposite direction of the palace—that gilded cage, where she was kept like a bird with clipped wings. The shouting of soldiers gradually faded, and she could only hope it wasn’t because they were spreading out to flank her. She’d studied enough to know the techniques of the royal army. For an instant, she thought she heard Jin calling to her. It was a moment of weakness, to be sure, but she looked back for just a moment. The darkness of the forest was all that was behind her. And all that was in front of her was an upturned root. With a ragged cry as she caught her foot, Fuu collapsed to the dirt face-first. Her hands burned as she tried to catch herself, her palms scraped from thorns and whipping foliage. “You’re not very good at this, are you?” A voice said, cutting through her rising panic. She froze as her heart skipped a beat. She whipped her head around, her eyes trying to see through the shadows. The voice wasn’t one she recognized, but it could still be a guard…A figure stepped into the faint light; her breath hitched. He was tall, rough and scruffy—nothing like the knights and nobles she’d been surrounded by since birth. His dark, wild hair fell in tousled strands around his face, and his red tunic had definitely seen many better days. But—there was a sword on his back. Fuu squinted at the faded insignia. Was that… a crest? “Lost, are we?” The man continued, taking a single step closer. His low voice dripped with sarcasm. He tilted his head, his lips curling into a lopsided grin that was horribly offset by the lack of humor in his steely gaze. Fuu swallowed hard, fisting her hands into her skirts. “I- I’m not lost.” Her voice trembled faintly. “I’m… I’m just—”“Running away,” he interrupted. He moved closer still, silent as a shadow, and Fuu took a step back. His eyes flicked over with little interest, as though he was sizing her up. “Who are you?” She demanded. She tried to muster up as much confidence as she could, which she found was quite difficult—being out of breath and frightened. He shrugged and titled his head again. His eyes narrowed faintly with a calculating look. “You’re out here alone. Not very smart, princess.” A cold shiver crawled down Fuu’s spine. It was that obvious she came from royalty? She’d even exchanged her opulent gowns for a servant’s dress, begging a servant and pressing money into the nervous girl’s hands. “I’m not a princess anymore,” she said slowly. Her voice managed to stay steady, something which she was infinitely thankful for in this moment. “I’m just a girl. A girl who’s leaving.” The man raised one dark eyebrow, and she noticed a scar on his forehead. It went almost to his eye, pale and raised against the tan of his skin. His expression was painfully unreadable, and Fuu felt herself growing more desperate to get away. With a sigh, he stepped closer again. “Listen, kid,” he began. His tone shifted from sarcastic disinterest to something more practical and gruff. “If you want to get out of here, you’ll need some help.” Her heart stuttered as hoofbeats pounded down, closer than they’d been before. “I don’t want to go back,” she whispered, more to herself than him. She wrung her hands, fingers trembling. “I can’t go back. I- I wont.” “Listen to me,” he said, suddenly urgent. “Do you really want to get free? You really want to get out of here?” His eyes were bright like silver in the moonlight, sharp and intense, and for a moment—Fuu couldn’t breathe. She was terrified. Not of him, but of getting caught. And even though everything about this man—this vagabond—screamed of untrustworthiness, she had no choice. She nodded, then hesitated. “Who are you anyway?” “Name’s Mugen,” he replied, flashing her with a quick and crooked grin. He ruffled a hand through his messy hair before turning to walk away. Fuu, with nothing else for it, trailed after him. Her mind was racing, her stomach turning itself inside-out with knots. Could she even trust Mugen? There was something about him that seemed familiar, or at least trustworthy… even if his appearance was rough and a bit cocky. As she followed behind him, stepping where he stepped and mildly wondering how he moved through the tangled underbrush so easily, she took a breath and steeled herself. There was no turning back now.