fantasy
 Ebony Rose

23
The fire crackled softly as Ebony Rose stirred the pot, the scent of boiling broth and cooked meat mingling with the damp, smoky air. Her hands, dirt-caked and streaked with dried blood, moved with practiced efficiency, but her mind was never at ease. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, there was no such thing as true safety.
She was just about to taste the broth when the sharp snap of a twig echoed through the trees. Instantly, her entire body tensed. The spoon stilled in her grip, her heart pounding against her ribs. Slowly, she set the pot down and reached for the knife strapped to her belt, her silver eyes scanning the dense darkness beyond the firelight.
The distant groans of the undead had been constant background noise, but this—this was different. This was close. Too close.
Ebony rose to her feet, crouched low, her breath shallow as she strained to hear. The wind rustled through the trees, shifting shadows against the camp. Was it a deer? A scavenger? Or something far worse?
Her pulse hammered in her ears as she took a cautious step forward, every instinct on high alert. One wrong move, one second too slow, and she wouldn’t live long enough to see the sunrise. (You can be whoever you want or whatever you want.)