There she was.
A lonely girl, hanging by the neck from a crooked tree limb, her feet swaying gently in the air.
Long black hair veiled down her face in tangled strands, her arms hanging limp at her sides.
And from beneath her closed eyes, streaks of dried black smeared down her cheeks.
Ren didn't hesitate, didn't stop to think.
He sprinted toward the base of the twisted tree, boots kicking up loose dirt.
Ren leapt forward, his fingers wrapping around the nearest branch, the bark tearing at his palms as he pulled himself up.
"Come on..." Ren muttered to himself.
He climbed higher, hands reaching for the next crooked branch—higher and higher—ignoring the blood painting his fingers.
He perched along a sturdy branch, and from up here, he could see her more clearly.
The rope bit deep into the pale skin of her neck, just beneath her jawline. Her head bowed forward, long black hair hiding most of her face.
So close
Ren reached the branch she hung from, edging forward as it creaked with each movement. But the closer he got, the more fragile she looked.
Below on the ground, the steed stepped right beneath the hanging girl, as if it knew exactly what Ren was planning to do.
Ren drew his makeshift dagger from his belt and reached out, angling the blade just over the knot. The rope frayed beneath the dagger's edge, strands snapping one by one.
"Hold on—" Ren said under his breath.
And then—
Slice
The rope snapped.
The girl fell like a broken doll.
The pale horse was there, catching her weight across its back with unnatural grace.
Ren kicked off the branch, falling.
He hit the ground hard, knees buckling with the impact, but he pushed himself up instantly and staggered toward them.
He stopped just short.
Her body draped over the horse's back, unnaturally still except for the faintest rise and fall of breath. Ren reached a hand out—then hesitated, fingers hovering just inches from her.
Something in him recoiled.
Fear
Not of her, but of himself.
"What if touching her hurts her?"
He pulled his hand back sharply, fingers curling into a fist against his side.
He backed away, sinking into a crouched position, elbows on his knees.
The Pale Horse lowered itself carefully onto its knees, allowing the girl to slip gently down to the ground.
She laid there, head turned slightly toward him, her long hair veiling most of her features.
Ren pressed his back against the tree trunk, unsure if he should move.
Unsure if he was even allowed to.
Minutes dragged by, heavy and slow.
Then—
Her hand barely moved.
Her fingers brushed across the dirt, slow and searching, before reaching toward him.
Ren stiffened at the contact.
The girl's hand found his, grazing his knuckles with a trembling, ghost-light touch.
She didn't open her eyes.
Didn't lift her head.
But her fingers brushed against his again, softer this time.
And in a voice so faint he almost thought he imagined it, she whispered. "You're warm..."
Ren stared at their touching hands, feeling the fragile warmth of her skin against his own broken flesh. He didn't pull away. Not this time.
The Pale Horse exhaled a low breath, rising to its feet with a strange, weightless grace, stepping back to give them space.
Ren swallowed heavily.
"H-hey..." Ren spoke up softly. "Can you hear me?"
No response.
Ren let out a slow breath, forcing himself to stay calm. He glanced around—the clearing still seemed empty, the trees standing crooked and mute—but he knew better than to trust that stillness. He turned back to her, now curled slightly on her side, breathing slowly and thin. Her face, still hidden behind the veil of tangled black strands, remained turned toward him, lashes resting unmoving against pale cheeks.
"What should I do? Move her? Is it safer to wait?"
In a moment, Ren began to stand.
Ren began to stand, but her fingers tightened around his before he could fully rise.
Not forceful
Not desperate
Just enough to stop him.
"Don't leave..." She whispered, the words barely brushing past cracked lips.
Her breathing hitched—almost a sob—but she held it back.
Ren froze, caught between motion and stillness.
He looked down at their joined hands — his rough, bloodied knuckles, her pale, shaking fingers.
Slowly, he knelt back down.
"I'm not leaving..." Ren whispered as if anything louder might shatter the fragile thing tethering her to him.
He stayed still, letting her hand cling to his. She was trembling—so much that Ren could only feel it through the whisper-light contact of their fingers.
Ren pressed his free hand lightly to the ground beside her, steadying himself.
Minutes stretched.
He listened to her breathing—shallow, uneven, but alive.
Alive
She was alive.
"You're okay...I'm here."
Ren wanted to move closer, to protect her, to offer something more than words.
But he didn't know how.
All he knew was that he couldn't move away.
Not now
Not after her voice.
Not after her touch.
The girl's breathing steadied slowly, the shallow gasps evening out into something softer, more regular.
Then—
She shifted, inching closer to him, the long strands of her black hair dragging through the dirt. Slowly. Weakly. She pressed herself up to her side, her arms trembling in the process.
Ren moved instinctively, reaching out—but stopping just short again, letting her do it herself.
Her hair slipped across her face in messy curtains as she leaned up, tucking one trembling hand beneath her cheek for support.
"Are you...okay?" Ren asked, his hand hovering just above her shoulder.
She didn't answer immediately, just resting there on her side, facing him with closed eyes.
Ren searched for something—anything—to anchor them to something real.
"Can you tell me your name?"
The question hung in the cold air between them.
For a moment, he thought she hadn't heard him.
But then—
In a fragile whisper against the hollow world, her lips barely moved.
Her voice carried the weight of someone who hadn't spoken in a long time.
"Eva..."