The forest was burning.

My lungs ached from the smoke, legs trembling with every step as I stumbled through the trees, eyes darting in every direction. The air was thick with ash and fear, screams echoing off the canopy, but I couldn’t stop—not now. Not when I hadn’t seen her.

She was supposed to be near the river. That’s where I last saw her. She had that smile—soft, calm—like she didn’t feel the weight of the hell about to rain down on us. But now I couldn’t find her.

I tripped over a root, palms scraping raw against the dirt, but I barely noticed. “Come on,” I breathed. “Just a little further.” And then—there. A glimpse of fabric behind the trees. I pushed forward, branches slicing my arms until I saw her. She was slumped against a rock, half-hidden in the undergrowth. Blood soaked her side, staining her uniform darker than it should’ve been. Her face was pale.

My heart just stopped.

“No—no, no—” I was at her side in an instant, falling to my knees so hard it jarred through my bones. “Hey—can you hear me?” My hands hovered, shaking, afraid to touch her. Afraid I’d hurt her more.

She moved, barely. A weak sound left her throat. Relief hit me like a wave—and then the fear crashed after. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” I kept saying it like it would make it true. My fingers found her pulse—still there, still beating—but too fast. Too shallow. She needed help. Now.

I shrugged off my outer shirt and pressed it against the wound, applying pressure like Recovery Girl taught us. My vision blurred. Not from smoke—but panic.

“I should’ve gotten here faster,” I whispered. “I should’ve been with you.” No time for tears. I had to get her to safety. I had to be strong—for her. I slid one arm under her legs, the other around her shoulders, and lifted. She was lighter than I remembered.

“I’ve got you,” more to myself than to her. “I promise—I’ve got you.” Even with my legs shaking, chest burning, and the enemy still out there, I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Because losing her—after everything—wasn’t an option.