Phoenix's pov.
The lake shimmered beneath the pale glow of the moon, its surface rippling as though the water itself carried secrets too heavy to keep still. I stood at the edge, leaning against the gnarled trunk of an ancient tree, my arms folded across my chest. The air was cool and crisp, I enjoyed it after the oppressive tension of the day.
For a moment, I closed my eyes and let the silence press against me, soothing and unbroken. Here, at least, I could breathe, running today felt like getting back my non-existent life.
Then I felt the subtle shift in the air, the faint crunch of grass under hesitant footsteps. Someone was there, watching me. I turned my head just enough to catch the figure in my peripheral vision. It was George.
Of course, it was George.
