A Narrow Escape

The salty tang of the sea, once a comfort, now tasted like ash in Alice’s mouth. She huddled deeper into the shadowed alcove of a fishmonger’s stall, the stench of brine and drying nets a thin veil against the biting wind. Footsteps echoed on the cobblestones, too many, too deliberate. Not the usual hurried shuffle of sailors or the boisterous laughter of merchants. These were the measured, hunting steps of those who knew what they sought.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage of bone. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself invisible, willing the cacophony of the port to swallow her whole. But the whispers, faint at first, then growing with an unnerving clarity, slithered into her mind. *Silver hair. Eyes like a winter sky. She cannot hide forever.*

Panic, cold and sharp, pricked at her. They were here. The clan had found her. Elder Kaelen’s chilling pronouncements about the Night of Seeding, about her destiny, echoed in the sudden silence of her inner world. She had dyed her hair, a desperate act of defiance, but the silver, she knew, was more than just a color. It was a beacon.