The motorbike and I crashed through the treetops, hitting branch after branch. I had time to cover my face, but then something hit my head, sending shockwaves through my brain and knocking me out.

I awoke a short while later—at least, I thought it was a short while—hanging upside down, my lungs on fire. I opened my eyes, the latent adrenaline lending itself to awareness, and looked down. I was suspended probably seventy feet from the ground. I grew dizzy looking down, and focused my attention on a tree branch as waves of nausea ran through me.

It got a little better, but it didn’t help the breathlessness that was coming from the lack of air. I became aware of the wheezing sounds I was making, and realized I needed the mask in the seat of the motorbike. I risked a glimpse of the ground, scanning it for wreckage, but it wasn’t there.

Then I heard something creak above me, and tucked my chin to my chest, looking upward. The motorbike was only a few feet above where I was snagged on one side, cradled by branches. My ankle was caught in the handlebars. I dropped my head and looked around. There were several branches to my left that I could try to grab hold of if I swung myself in that direction.

As I moved, I cursed myself for being an idiot and getting distracted in the first place. Now my one means of transportation was wasted, and I was stuck in The Green. A tremor of fear went through me at the realization. I had some basic working knowledge of the place, but I wasn’t sure if I was equipped to handle it.

A wave of darkness crossed my vision. I knew I was running out of time. Without thinking, I started to swing. I could hear the branch above me groan, and I shuddered, but kept rocking, my hands reaching for the branch.

I touched it, just a brush of fingers, and then fell back, pushing my body into an arc. The branch above me groaned again, but I kept my focus as I swung back toward the branch, my hands outstretched. I dug my nails into the moss and bark, arresting my swing. Above me came a disconcerting crack.

Slowly, I pulled myself closer, until I could reach the branch with my other hand. Using it to stabilize myself, I readjusted my grip. The muscles in my arms and legs were screaming in protest at the physical exertion and lack of oxygen. Shakily, I wrapped my arms around the branch, and then tried to lift my hips to extract my foot from where it was lodged. It didn’t budge. Gritting my teeth, I pulled my leg as hard as I could.

The motorbike shifted a little with a small whine, and then an even louder crack sounded as the branch holding the motorbike broke. I held on to the branch I was clinging to with all my might. I felt the handlebars drag against my ankle and then slip away as it began to fall. There were more sounds of tree branches breaking below it, and I felt the tree shudder from impact.

After the noise had stopped, I dared to open my eyes. Branches had again stopped the motorbike, about thirty feet below me. It looked more secure, as it was being held by three branches, not two.

I took another breath, and then gagged, the lack of oxygen causing the reflex. I was already dizzy, and now my ankle hurt from where the motorbike had clipped it.

I started moving, as waves of vertigo ripped through me. Closing my eyes helped, but not much—not to mention climbing down blind was a really bad idea.

Scrambling down the branch was not easy, but by some mercy, I managed it. Once I made it to the trunk, I gradually lowered my legs down to the branch below, keeping my weight off my damaged ankle.

The moss was spongy beneath my hands and feet. It was also slick. I should have moved more slowly, but time was running out for me. Each breath I took made me more and more light-headed. I had to get to the motorbike, and I had to get there now.

I climbed more swiftly downward. Luckily, the branches on this tree were thick, and there were many of them. I finally reached the branch that suspended the motorcycle, and gingerly put my weight onto it.

Sweat was trickling down my forehead, and I felt the sharp pains in my joints and rib cage. The skin on my hands was shredded. I struggled to breathe; the sounds coming from my lungs were weaker and wheezier. I was at the end of my strength. Disregarding caution, I scrambled along the branch to the motorbike.

It was on its side, but the tree held it tight. With shaking fingers, I stretched my body out, reaching for the trigger to the seat on the floorboard. I could feel my balance shifting radically, and I jerked back, catching myself before I fell. I took a deep breath of the toxic air, fixed my gaze on what I needed to hit, and then reached out and slapped the button.

To my relief, the seat popped open. I scrambled closer to it, reaching in and grabbing the bag. My breathing shallower than ever, my vision blacked out. I felt with my hands instead, and, after what seemed like an eternity, I jerked the mask out of the bag, and sealed it to my face.

Greedily, I sucked lungful after lungful of filtered air. I heaved my exhausted body back to the tree trunk and braced my back against it, allowing myself to relax and breathe for a few minutes, giving my oxygen-deprived body a chance to recuperate.

After five minutes, I opened my eyes. I was no longer blind and felt more alert, though my entire body felt like a bruise. All I could do was keep moving. I checked the contents of the backpack to make sure I hadn’t dropped anything, and then, after making sure the egg was securely inside, I closed the zipper and slung it over my shoulder. The left side of my body screamed in protest; I was sure that I had broken a rib.

Exhaling into the mask, I began to slowly work my way down. It was much easier now that I wasn’t starved of oxygen, but my dress still made me go slower than I would have liked. To make matters worse, the small amount of moonlight being filtered in from the canopy was disappearing. It had all but vanished by the time I reached the bottom, but I had memorized the placement of the last two branches, and luckily my spatial reasoning and depth perception were decent. As soon as my feet crunched to the ground, I immediately swung the bag around, my finger searching blindly for the flashlight. The sounds of The Green seemed louder in the dark, each hiss and animal cry sounding like it was coming from directly behind me.

My fingers found the cold grated metal of the flashlight, and I turned it on as I pulled it out, shining the light all around.

Immediately, the sounds around me lessened as the shier nocturnal creatures moved away from the light. My knees gave way with relief and exhaustion and I dropped to the ground, rolling until the tree was against my back.

I could feel sleep trying to claim me, the earlier exhaustion of the whole Lee nightmare coupled with the physical exhaustion of getting down the tree both working together to make my body feel disjointed, like a poorly stitched doll.

I fought it tooth and nail, reaching into the bag clumsily, and pulling things out, scattering several items across the mossy ground. I saw the silver egg roll by. My eyelids drooping, I clumsily reached to grab it, tucking it into my lap while my other hand groped for the aerosol container.

It seemed to take forever for me to compress the canister, and even after I did so, all I did was make a few half-hearted passes with it over the ground around me and the trunk behind me, before my muscles went slack, and I was pulled into unconsciousness.

I woke some time later, my body jerking upright, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. It was still dark, and I was still tired, but something had forced me to wake up. I picked up the flashlight with shaking hands, and scanned the clearing. What had roused me? Did I hear something?

The ever-prevalent mist clung to the ground, roiling about. I could only see a few feet in front of me, and every shadow cast by the flashlight was causing me to jump, my worry deepening.

My heart was pounding so hard; I could feel it in my throat. There was something out there, something that I wasn’t seeing, and my mind was screaming for me to run. But I forced myself to keep still, to steady my breathing.

For a second, I thought about the Benuxupane in the bag—the white pills that would keep me from feeling my emotions, but I disregarded the idea. My instincts were warning me of danger. If I took another dose of King Maxen’s pills, it might soothe me too much.

So, I forced myself to be calm, focusing on slowing my haggard breaths while continuing to scan the mist.

It took a minute for me to respire normally and once I did, I became aware of what had woken me up. A low buzzing sound… a sound that seemed to be growing louder. Closer. Panic surged in me again, as I realized that the red flies were coming.