The stream burbled, a mocking sound to Faline’s ears after eight weeks of near-starvation. Her reflection wavered in the clear water—hollowed cheeks, matted hair, clothes hanging loose where they’d once fit snugly. But it wasn’t her appearance that held her attention. The flash of silver scales beneath the surface promised a real meal after weeks of roots and bitter berries.

Fingers, raw and cracked from days of foraging, gripped her makeshift spear—little more than a sharpened branch with a crude stone point—and she crept closer to the water’s edge. The evening sun cast long shadows across the stream, perfect for fishing. Her hands trembled as she raised the spear, watching a fat trout hover near the surface. Just a little closer…

A splash upstream made her freeze. At first, she thought it was a larger fish, but the heavy breathing and the crack of branches told a different story. A massive brown bear waded into the stream thirty paces away, its fur gleaming wet in the fading light.

Her heart pounded against her ribs. She’d learned to avoid bears and had never been this close to one. Despite backing away, slow and steady, her foot caught on a slick stone. The splash was tiny, but it might as well have been thunder in the hushed evening air.

The bear’s head snapped toward her. Their eyes met, and in that moment, she saw not the passive disinterest she’d hoped for but a predator’s focused intensity. It charged.

She ran. Not toward the open meadow where she’d made her temporary camp, but into the closer dense forest she’d yet to explore. Branches whipped her face as she crashed through the undergrowth, the bear’s heavy footfalls gaining behind her. Her legs burned, weakened by weeks of inadequate food, but terror drove her forward.

The trees thinned ahead, and her heart sank as she burst into a small clearing. A wall of granite rose before her, too steep to climb, too wide to circle around before the bear reached her. She spun, pressing her back against the cold stone.

The forest breathed around her, a suffocating embrace of pine and shadow. The bear’s massive form erupted from behind a cluster of ancient trees, a rumble of earth and fury, blocking out what little sunlight filtered through the dense canopy. Her heart thundered, her breath catching in her throat. The beast’s eyes gleamed with primal hunger.

She raised her spear, hands trembling. The weapon felt laughably inadequate against the mountainous creature. The bear charged, and she thrust desperately. The blow glanced off the thick hide. Pain exploded across her shoulder as massive claws raked flesh, sending her sprawling onto the forest floor and the spear tumbling off into the underbrush. Moss and decaying leaves cushioned her fall, mixing with the warm rush of her own blood.

Heart thudding wildly, hands shaking, the very power that had exiled her surged beneath her skin, desperate and wild. The bear loomed over her, jaws wide, claws extended, preparing to strike, beady eyes dark and inevitable as the night.

And then, something broke loose within her.

“CONFRIGO,” she screamed. Magic erupted from her hands, not controlled or elegant, but raw and primal. It crackled through the air like lightning, the color of storm clouds at midnight. Striking the bear full in the chest, it convulsed and exploded in an eruption of blood and flesh. The forest fell silent for a moment except for ragged breathing and the fading hum of magic in her veins. She slid down the rock face, legs finally giving out, and stared at shaking hands. Goo and fleshy bits of bear meat dripped off her and her surroundings.

Panting, she lay there, wounded, bleeding, but alive. Licking her lips, a salty taste coated her tongue. Bitter but exhilarating. She stood and pulled out a crude bag she’d fashioned from deerskin. Grabbing handfuls of meat, she shoved what she could into the sack. It was best to collect what she could. Drawn by the smell, ever-present wolves would soon descend upon the site. If exile had taught her anything, survival meant staying ahead of enemies. Those with the gift of magic survive, and those without do not.