“Hurry, hurry!” Alana urged, leading the mare, nearly running in her haste to get away from them. She was almost free. She could taste it.

A laugh of sheer joy bubbled up in her chest, but she did not dare give voice to it. That would mean alerting the men to her location. They were like as not still making their way around the fallen tree—the moment Quinn had disappeared from sight, she’d seen her chance.

If she could not see him, Brice would not be able to see her once she rounded the massive base and the still-attached mossy soil hid her progress. He wouldn’t give it a moment’s thought if she suddenly fell out of sight.

Which was why, rather than continuing straight ahead, she’d darted off to the right and deeper into the dark woods.

The only problem she faced was the fact that she hadn’t the first idea where she was exactly.

She stopped to rest, tying the mare’s reins off on the closest branch before leaning against the tree. A tall, sturdy birch, its trunk cool against her cheek. Eyes sliding closed, she fought to catch her breath before moving on.

She hadn’t paid attention to the direction in which she’d run, which she feared would prove problematic.

The heavens would not suddenly open up and shine a beam of light on the path she needed to take, which was something she needed to accept.

There would be no perfect time.

There would be no ideal situation.

Rather than waiting until the men slept and taking her time to work out the optimal route, she needed instead to take the opportunity when it presented itself.

That fallen tree had been an opportunity. She had been brave enough to take it.

All she needed was the strength to follow through.

Mother, she prayed. Please, help me.

“Alana!”

Her eyes flew open wide at the echo as it carried through the woods, bouncing from tree to tree until there was nothing left in the world but the sound of her name. Even the birds ceased their chattering when that echo reached the spot where she rested.

“Come, girl.” She untied the reins and mounted the mare, determined to outrun her captors if need be.

The mare did not wish to make haste through the dense woods, and while Alana could not blame her, really, such concerns were of little importance at that moment. Her heart beat wildly as she urged the animal on, all but begging her to put on a little speed as they trotted through the trees.

Brice would not show her the same understanding he had before if he caught up to her. He’d tell the others what she’d already done—and more than likely blame himself for not having warned them of her. Which meant he’d take their ire out on her in the end.

That, plus the fact that they’d deliver her to her intended, was enough to bring panicked tears to her eyes.

Oh, Mother, help me.

“Alana! You’ll get yourself killed out there, lass!”

Damn it all. She patted the horse’s neck, crooning as gently as possible to soothe it and prevent it from throwing her.

There was no hint of light anywhere, no break in the trees to tell her she was moving in the direction of the road. Nothing recognizable. Only trees and moss and soft, loamy soil and the plants which thrived therein. Not even a long-abandoned huntsman’s shelter for her to take refuge in.

She knuckled away a tear, tapping her heels to the mare’s sides to signal movement.

“Alana!”

The voices were closer. They were gaining on her. The thought of them finding her, of roughly forcing her to come with them, tying her up and throwing her across one of their saddles… she barely swallowed back a wave of nausea, the contents of her stomach threatening to reveal themselves.

Alana threw a glance over her shoulder, certain she could just make out a dark shape looming behind her. She bit back a scream but wasn’t able to stop herself from jumping in fear.

Which frightened the horse even further.

The mare whinnied before coming to a dead stop, sending an unprepared Alana sliding from the saddle.

One moment, she was securely seated. The next, she was falling to the ground, her hands still clutching the reins.

The soil was soft, at least, cushioning her backside when she landed with a thump. Pain shot up her back nonetheless, and she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

The mare reared, forelegs kicking. Alana threw her crossed arms over her head, curling into a ball lest the kicking hooves should hit her.

Then, in a flash, the horse was gone. She darted off into the woods, disappearing in an echo of hoofbeats.

“Oh, no,” Alana groaned, slowly getting to her feet.

The horse! How would she get along without her? While the pack containing her clothing and personal items was with the men—she would do without them if need be, even her mother’s wedding gown—her food and water were in the mare’s saddle bag. And it was gone.

Footsteps came from behind her. She froze at the snapping of a twig, her heart sinking as the truth of her situation became clear.

She’d run for nothing.

Again.

Show them it doesn’t matter, she reminded herself as she turned in place. Even if it wasn’t true, she would do so. They couldn’t break her or frighten her.

“All right. Ye cannot blame me for trying,” she said, taking a step toward the figure she’d noticed while on horseback.

Only then did she realize the figure was not that of a human being.

Terror unlike any she’d ever known slammed into her from all sides, leaving her frozen solid. She could not move a single part of her body, not even her fingers. The fact that she was breathing at all was miraculous.

It wasn’t human. It was animal.

A boar.

She heard its breathing, heard the soft grunts and snorts as it sniffed the air and decided whether she was friend or foe.

She was neither. She was food. And soon, the boar would discover this and decide to rush at her.

She’d seen the results of a goring once. She’d seen how the side of the poor wretched man’s face looked like nothing that belonged on a human. It had been merely a mess of shredded meat, thanks to the boar’s tremendous tusks.

She remained still. Now, more out of self-preservation than fear. Her body was beginning to come back to her as the urge to run began pounding out a steady rhythm in her mind.

Run! Run! Run!

No. That would be useless. It would outrun her, take her down from behind, tear her to pieces while pinning her to the ground. She’d be no match for it.

Perhaps it would be for the best if the animal were to end it all.

The thought came upon her, hitting her unawares. While part of her mind wanted to reject it, push it away, refuse to entertain it… Another part agreed.

She would either die on her own in the woods, with no food or shelter.

Or she’d be forced to wed Earl Remington.

Or she could give up her life and be done with it all.

This went through her head in an instant more brief than it took to blink an eye. That, and the image of her mother frowning in disapproval of her for even thinking such terrible things.

“Help me,” she whispered just before the boar snorted and rushed her.