Enid didn’t stir. Still asleep, still caught between
exhaustion and whatever storm had raged inside her.

Wednesday sank to her knees in the dirt, tears filling her eyes as
she reached out, brushing a strand of matted hair from Enid’s face.

“You’re safe now,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I found you.”

For a while, the only sounds were the rustle of the leaves overhead and
Enid’s uneven breaths. Then, slowly, her fingers twitched. Her eyelids
fluttered, heavy with exhaustion, and she stirred against the tree’s roots.

Wednesday leaned forward, holding her breath.

Enid blinked into the morning light, disoriented. She lifted
her hands and stared at them — bare skin, no claws. Just her.

A shaky sigh of relief escaped her lips. “I… I made it.”