Dayanara walked beside them, her arms folded loosely as her sharp eyes swept over the trees. The forest seemed endless, every path almost identical, and yet her instincts told her they were not wandering without purpose.
She glanced at the pair ahead of her. The mother walked with Mist's small hand clutched tightly in her own, almost too tightly, as if afraid he might slip away. Mist leaned into her side, his face still blotchy from tears, but calmer now that he was with her.
Dayanara finally broke the silence."Why are you in the forest?" she asked, her tone calm but firm. "It's not a place people just… walk into with a child."
The woman stiffened. Her lips parted as if she wanted to answer, but the words caught in her throat. For a moment, her eyes darted sideways, then back down at her son. She squeezed Mist's hand, hard enough that he winced faintly but said nothing.
"When we woke up," the mother finally said, her voice low, "we were already here."
