The forest was a shroud of darkness, the faint moonlight filtering through the thick canopy above, casting ghostly patterns on the forest floor. The air was heavy with the scent of damp moss and decaying leaves. Acantha crouched low against the base of a tree, her sharp gaze darting through the dense undergrowth. Frustration gnawed at her as she realized the witch had slipped through her fingers.
"Gone again," she muttered under her breath, fists clenching at her sides. "Clever, but not clever enough. I'll find her."
Her mind raced as she tried to piece together the witch's path. The queen's looming shadow haunted her thoughts, a constant reminder of the stakes. Capturing the witch was her last card, her only chance to bargain for freedom. Failure wasn't an option.
