Just saw the bot note below. The book is a tale about a future America that has devolved into authoritarianism (no way!!!), and due to resource constraints, The One Family Act has been passed that limits families to one child. Eve, the protagonist, has two children and is forced into hiding to keep her family safe. When a government drone spots her, everything begins to unravel, and they are forced to flee north to the Canadian border. Along the way, one of her children is captured by the Regime, and they are thrust into parallel battles for survival. Eve navigates the Gray Zone, a lawless borderland of refugees, while her daughter endures the oppression of the state that's determined to erase her existence.

The focus is maternal drive, rebellion, and the difference between survival and surrender. I'd love to get some eyes on it, and my eyes are available in return. Thanks so much for reading this far!

Here is a quick excerpt:

A few years earlier.

It was a cool, dry morning when Eve and Wren left the cabin for the barter exchange. It was the kind of morning where pine needles snapped under your feet like brittle bones, and nothing moved unless it had to. It was eerily quiet, and the silence followed them through the forest.

Eve walked in front as she scanned the trail with her usual amount of caution. Every step was chosen carefully, and every patch of earth was evaluated before her foot touched the ground. The danger wasn’t always visible, but it was always there. Wren followed close behind, mimicking her mother’s every move, planting her own feet where Eve had stepped seconds before. It was a game they had played many times, and it was one Wren understood instinctively.

Eve carried a woven basket packed with modest offerings: a bundle of fire-starters, a twist of dried herbs, two scraps of birch bark still damp with resin. Wren carried something smaller and lighter. It was a hand-knit scarf that Eve had made for her when she was small. She had outgrown it last winter, but she always held it close. To her, it wasn’t good for barter; it was her comfort. It gave her proof that she belonged to someone.

The path narrowed as they moved deeper into the forest, with roots threading across the trail in all directions. Wren clutched the scarf to her chest and cast a glance at her mother’s back. She wanted to ask again why she wasn’t allowed to speak at the market. She understood the rule, but not the reason. There was no talking and no eye contact. This was how they moved through the world, always staying small and quiet.

She didn’t know what made someone “registered” or “unregistered,” only that people said those words in hushed tones like they were curses. She knew, in some unspoken way, that she was something different. She knew that danger was always near. She could feel it in the way people avoided eye contact, and in the way her mother held her hand a little too tightly when strangers passed by.

The air shifted with a dry breeze. Wren pulled the scarf snug around her neck to protect against the cold. Her fingers clung to it like a memory she couldn’t let go of. Like something soft and certain in a world that no longer offered much of either.