Your breathing is ragged. You don’t remember how it started. Something cracked — maybe inside your chest, maybe in the air. The room felt too small. Their voices too loud. You’d pushed past someone, flinched at the fire, felt everything hit at once.

Now you’re on the floor, back against the wall, arms tight around your knees. You can’t stop the sobs. They wrack through your body — violent and uncontrollable — like your bones are trying to escape.

“Hey—hey, it’s okay.” It’s Van. She crouches beside you, her voice careful, her hands out but not touching. “I’ve got you. Just breathe. You’re okay.”

But you can’t breathe.

You don’t feel okay.

Misty hovers nearby, glancing toward the door. “Maybe some chamomile or that stuff Nat found—”

You shake your head furiously. “No… no, I don’t want—” Your voice breaks. “I want Lottie.”

They freeze.

There’s silence.

“She’s not—” Van hesitates, sharing a look with Misty. “She’s not doing well right now. You know what happened. Maybe it’s not the best idea.”

“She killed someone,” Misty adds. “With an axe.”

Your fingers claw at your sleeves, trying to hold yourself together. “I know,” you spit. “And I don’t care. I just… I need her. She’ll understand.”

Van kneels in front of you again, this time a little closer. “She’s not herself right now, okay? She’s covered in blood and she hasn’t slept and—”

You look up sharply, eyes blazing through the tears. “Neither have I.”

That shuts them up.

“I feel like I’m falling apart,” you whisper. “And the only person who ever makes it stop—who knows what that even feels like—is her. So either get her… or let me go to her.”

It was silent for a moment. Eventually they gave in.

The door creaks as you step inside Lottie’s hut.

The fire’s barely lit. The air smells like iron and herbs. And there she is — Lottie — sitting on the ground, knees pulled to her chest, blood dried along her temple and neck. Her hands are stained. Her face is distant. Haunted.

She doesn’t look up right away.

But when she finally does — her eyes land on you like gravity.

You’re still crying.