"Isabelle, darling, are you ready? We need to leave now if we want to be back before nightfall."

My mother's voice reaches me in my room up in the attic. I roll my eyes. Doesn't she know by now that it's me who's always waiting on her? And let me guess, Mother Dearest wants to take the scenic route to Clearshore today. On foot.

I pull on my boots and force a smile. "Coming, Mom, I just need to grab my purse." Somehow, smiling makes my voice lighter, a trick I learned to use with my mom years ago when I was most annoyed with her. Unfortunately, that seems to be all the time nowadays. I swear the woman gets clingier by the day. It's just college, so why does it seem to her like her world is falling apart? Sighing, I shove my list and a book in my purse and trudge downstairs. One of these days it will be for the last time.

"Ready," I tell her as I breeze by and out into the open air. I live in a small village way too far from the nearest city. Clearshore isn't even that great, but anything is better than Rosewood. The best, and only, part about this town is our resident monster. The terrifying beast that lurks the woods surrounding Rosewood and comes out at night to gobble up your children. Wooooo. I snort. Yeah right. Stuff like that doesn't exist in real life. That's why I prefer books. They're so much better.

I hear the door close behind me and turn to see Mom walking towards me. "Is it okay to walk to Clearshore today, Izzy? It's a beautiful day." Read: I haven't had enough time with you recently and you always read in the car. So I give her a tight smile in return.

"I put my boots on just in case, Mom. Let's go." And we do. Mom sets us off in the direction of the well-worn path to Clearshore. Well, I say well worn. It's more of a distinguished path nowadays. But my point still stands. Into the woods we go.

Honestly, I can't remember when my relationship with my mom fell apart. There wasn't some big fight and she didn't forbid me from doing something I really wanted to – she and I were never like that. In fact, Mom and I have always been rather close. But ever since I got accepted to Teller University, this unresolvable tension set in. I think it's gotten to the point where one is waiting for the other to break the ice. Maybe that's what this afternoon is about.

Joy.

"Izzy, I want to talk to you about Teller."

Mom always knew how to work her way into a conversation. "Mom, we've talked about this before. Hundreds of times! I don't understand why you're so worked up over this."

"It's on the other side of the country, Isabelle. I know you like your independence, but is two thousand miles necessary to retain it?"

"Mom it's the only school that allows me to major in my dream profession! If you'd only look at the classes you'd see—"

"There are plenty of schools that that have a creative writing program; why can't you go to one of them?"

"Mom, I'm not running off to the other side of the country because I want to get away. The other programs aren't as great at Teller's. You've always said you wanted the best for me."

"Honey, that hasn't changed, but I know you. You always called home to chat and say goodnight at sleepovers. How will you do thousands of miles away from us?"

"Well how about instead of telling me I can't do it, you give me the chance to see if I can," I challenge before stomping off. Probably not my best moment, but I'm only eighteen. And besides, I'm pretty sure it makes my point because a few moments later I realize my mom isn't following. Left her wallowing in her own guilt didn't I, I think smugly.

But when she still doesn't follow a minute later, my own guilt crops up and I turn back. It's not like I want to be this way, all attitude and anger, but how else do I make her see? I tried polite conversation the first time around. Clearly it didn't work if it's escalated to yelling and stomping around in a forest, right?

"Mom?" I call out when I reach the spot where I left her. Abandoned. This isn't good. "Mom!" It comes out more panicked than I intended, but my mind flies to the stories about these woods and suddenly all I want is for the two of us to be safely out of them.

She comes crashing beck from the direction I ran off in. "Isabelle Caron! Don't you dare run off on me like that again! You are not an immature child anymore so don't act like one. Do you have any idea how scared I was? Whether or not the rumors are true, this forest can be dangerous at night."

My heart rate begins to settle and I realize. Okay, so maybe point not made. Great, now Mom's even more made at me. At least I have the good sense to be chagrined. Like I said, probably not my best move. Especially in these woods.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I really am. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm just so tired of having this conversation. All I want is your support on this."

Mom's features softened and she pulled me in for a hug. "You have it, Iz. Both your dad and I know you're capable of something like this. I'm just going to miss you so much."

I smiled into her shoulder. This is the Mom I've been missing. "Thanks, Mom."

Compared to our little jaunt in the woods, Clearshore is rather uneventful. Mom and I go to the hardware shop for Dad's necessary supplies and then hit the bookstore. She and I both leave with new books, matching smiles on our faces. Who knows, maybe things really are looking up for our relationship.

I don't know, maybe I should learn how to knock on wood.

"Did the time change when we were inside?" Mom asks as we make our way to the trail leading back to Rosewood. "It's getting dark quickly."

I shuffle the books in my arms to look down at my watch. "No, we were just in the bookshop far longer than we thought." Mom and I in a bookstore together, a rather bad idea looking back on it. Time always gets away from us in the library, as miserly as it is, so us surrounded by new books? Time doesn't even exist.

Mom shoots me an uneasy look she tries to cover up with confidence. I roll my eyes in her direction and head into the forest. "Mom, nothing is out there to prey on us. It's a ten minute hike to the other side, what could happen?"

Mom sends a you-should-be-careful-what-you-say look and I shake my head and chuckle. I mean really, it's just a stupid legend that people only believe in because they have nothing better to do. A wild beast that haunts our little village, stealing crops and children at its own convenience? Please.

"Nevertheless, Isabelle, I'd rather not get caught in the woods at dark. We could lose our way."

See, now there's a sensible concern. But about halfway through our journey I hear a twig snap to our left. The forest goes eerily silent. Another twig snaps. Closer this time.

Mom pushes me ahead of her and we break into a run.

The sun hasn't completely set, but with the tree cover and the dense forest it may as well have. Maybe that's why it takes me gasping for breath for me to recognize it.

Smoke.

The forest is on fire.

Mom realizes it about the same time I do. "Don't stop, Izzy, keep going," she coughs out.

"Mom," I croak out, tears dripping down my face and mixing in with the grime from the smoke. I think there are ashes in my hair. "I think we're getting closer to the fire."

She yanks on my arm, causing me to spill the books and Dad's supplies. A part of my brain mourns the loss of my new adventures; I know Dad would rather us live than receive his new instruments so those don't bother me as much. I almost bend down to grab the books, but the other side of my brain kicks into survival mode and I chase after Mom instead as she rushes in a new direction away from the fire crashing through the forest. She's dropped her belongings, too. Why did we choose today of all days to go to Clearshore? Panic lances through me as we run and I miss the sorrow and fear that fly across my mother's face.

"Isabelle." Mom reaches for my hand. "Stay with me. We're going to outrun this."

I should have known then. It's like those times when adults tell you everything's going to be fine when it isn't. Because I was always the runner in the family, not Mom. And certainly not Dad. And it's not like you can outrun fire anyway.

What I wished I'd known then is that we weren't even trying to outrun a fire. We were trying to outrun the people who'd set it. Maybe things would have turned out differently had we known that.