We ran for what felt like ten or fifteen minutes before Hein finally slowed. The barking didn’t follow.

  Or maybe it did, and I just couldn’t hear it over my pulse.

  Has it been that long?

  “Hey. Lean me against that wall—let’s just think for a second,” I said.

  A frown pulled at Hein’s face. “We need to keep moving. It’s only a matter of time before they catch up.”

  “Yeah—yeah, I know. Just give me a second.” My voice felt thin in my own ears.

  He hesitated. I could see it on him. The calculation. The risk.

  “Dammit, just do what I ask!” I snapped.

  The words came out sharper than I meant.

  Hein’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He eased me against the curved root wall. The wood was damp and cold through my shirt, smelling of rot and wet ash.

  He stood there, staring at nothing, foot tapping against the forest floor. Restless. Ready to bolt.

  “…What’s there to think about? Come on. We need to move.”

  “Shush,” I shot back.

  Not because I had a plan.

  Because if I didn’t force my mind to slow down, something truly terrible would happen. I could feel it.

  My eyes swept our surroundings.

  Root walls boxed us in now—towering at least fifteen feet, knotted and fused. We’d stuck to the left, following the root wall, but the roots had grown too tall to see past.

  The air felt stagnant.

  Thick.

  Even the breeze had died.

  And time—

  How long has it really been?

  And why wouldn’t the barking follow us?

  “H–How long have we been running for?” I asked.

  Hein clicked his tongue, impatience cracking through his restraint. “…What? Ten, maybe fifteen minutes—what does that matter? Let’s go.” His voice dipped at the end. Not anger.

  Pleading.

  The forest didn’t sound right.

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  No insects. No distant birds. Just the faint drip of moisture sliding down bark somewhere behind us.

  If it had only been fifteen minutes…

  Then…

  I’m starving again.

  Not hungry.

  Empty.

  My stomach felt scraped out. My throat burned dry, worse than it should after a short run.

  Fifteen minutes.

  That’s all it’s been.

  Right?

  I swallowed. It hurt.

  In fifteen minutes?

  I looked down. Opened my palms and stared at my hands, like that could calm the thoughts.

  “Hein—we ate fifteen minutes ago, right? So how? How would I be starving again, like I hadn’t eaten in days.”

  “…”

  Silence answered.

  I slowly lifted my head. “Answer the que—”

  My head locked in place.

  “Hein?” I asked, confusion and fear flooding my voice.

  My eyes panned around me—slow, so slow, like I could deny what I already knew.

  I’m alone.

  Hein is gone.

  Just root walls around me.

  My stomach dropped as I started to fall. “What—!” I went backward, hitting the ground hard. My leg collided with a root and pain flared up my shin.

  The wall I’d been leaning on was gone.

  As I looked up, the walls were shifting.

  Roots slithered in and out of place, forming and breaking down barriers like the maze was breathing.

  A shifting maze.

  Great.

  That’s exactly what I needed today.

  Hein probably got cut off. The walls shift and move so swiftly and quietly it’s almost unnatural.

  What a perfect pairing for my decrepit state.

  I crawl to the nearest root wall and wrench myself upward. If only I could walk.

  The maze shifts.

  So, so much for gaming the system by hugging a wall.

  I’m starving. Thirsty. Half-crippled.

  This is the definition of a disaster.

  Let’s wait for another shift. Maybe there’ll be a clue in that.

  Time passes.

  Suddenly I’m falling flat on my back again as the walls slide away behind me.

  The shock snaps my eyes open.

  “…”

  How long did I wait?

  It’s been—

  Time feels warped. Like I lost consciousness between the two shifts. I was counting.

  I know I was counting.

  And yet I lost track completely.

  The only time I’m certain of was that fifteen minutes.

  The only time Hein and I were sure of.

  The time it took to step into this place.

  A maze that’s ever-changing, where time loses meaning.

  Wow.

  Sounds about right.

  Checks out.

  Real dandy, in fact.

  “Hmm.”

  Maybe the best move is to wait. I can’t do much in this state.

  Hopefully Hein finds me.

  The forest bed is uneven, riddled with buried roots, so I look for a clearer stretch. I start crawling and find one quickly. Then I just lay there and wait.

  Hours pass, I think.

  Or maybe they don’t.

  My eyes darken at my own helplessness.

  If this keeps up, I’ll die.

  My back grows sore against the ground. Even here, flatter than the rest, something still juts and prods, digging into me like the forest can’t stand to let me rest.

  Is this how I die? Alone. Crippled. Starving.

  Days pass.

  Or not.

  I keep waiting as my energy seeps out of me, like rain feeding the ground.

  Suddenly something happens. My ears perk up.

  Under the sway of the trees and their creaking, something cuts through the background—a shout.

  It gets louder. Slowly. Over time.

  I don’t know how long.

  But then it turns familiar. Someone’s shouting my name.

  Hein.

  His name and face flash in my head. It has to be him. Who else would it be?

  I almost cry from relief.

  I try to roll onto my stomach, but I’m too weak.

  My body feels… smaller. Like it’s been drained down to nothing. I’m at my weakest now.

  Still, through sheer will, I manage to turn. I start dragging myself, pulling at roots with a withered grip, toward the shout.

  I try to call back.

  All that comes out are whimpering whispers.

  After some time of crawling and dragging toward the shouts, they stopped moving.

  We must’ve been here long enough for Hein to run out of supplies—and energy. I kept trying to shout back, to tell him to keep moving, but no sound could escape me now. It was a wonder I could still drag myself at all.

  The shouting dwindled too. Less frequent. Less loud.

  But I kept crawling.

  I refused to die like this. Not after everything had been taken from me. I wouldn’t lose my own life as well.

  Days passed.

  Maybe.

  I finally reached a corner, and to the left of it came a weak whimper of my name. If I could get there, then we’d at least die together.

  My face felt sunken. My lips shriveled. My eyes had lost their gloss. My skin hugged my bones.

  Somehow, I kept moving.

  My right hand found a root jutting from beneath the forest bed. My fingers closed around it and I pulled. My strength felt like a slack rope—no tension, no bite.

  Still, I pulled myself forward.

  And finally, I reached the corner.

  I peered left, where Hein should’ve been. My vision swam, blurred by my state, but I could see enough.

  There was no one.

  And my deadened ears could no longer hear my name.

  All the strength left me.

  I was fading away in this forest.

  I was dying.

  I am dead.