Xhaelyn's eyes flutter open—only to immediately squeeze shut as harsh sunlight floods her vision. A groggy hum escapes her lips. Too bright.
She blindly reaches for her blanket, intending to pull it over her head and go back to sleep. But instead of soft fabric, her fingers brush against something rough.
Dirt.
Her brows furrow. Dirt?
Her drowsiness vanishes in an instant.
She forces her eyes open, ignoring the glare of the sun, and sits up. The sensation beneath her hands—earthy, uneven—confirms it. She's not in her bed. She's not even in her apartment.
She's lying on the ground.
Cold. Bare. Surrounded by towering trees.
This… doesn't make sense.
A shiver crawls down her spine as she fully takes in her surroundings. The fresh scent of damp soil, the distant rustle of leaves, the unfamiliar weight of the air. This isn't a dream.
And then—
Her gaze drops to her hands.
Small.
Soft.
Tiny.
Her stomach twists.
"What the—?!"
Her voice—high-pitched, childlike—echoes in the quiet forest.
Panic grips her chest as she scrambles to her feet, only to stumble forward, unbalanced. Her limbs feel wrong—shorter, weaker. She looks down at herself and freezes.
She's small.
She's really small.
And she's definitely not in her world anymore.
Unacceptable.
A low, guttural growl rumbles behind her.
Her breath catches. Slowly, she turns her head—
A massive, wolf-like beast steps into view, its thick, bear-like frame covered in matted fur. Its yellow eyes lock onto her, hunger gleaming in their depths.
Her own eyes widen in disbelief.
What the hell is that ugly thing?!
The creature snarls, lips pulling back to reveal jagged teeth. Then—it lunges.
Xhaelyn's instincts scream at her.
She bolts.
"That damn thing dared to try and eat me?!" she scoffs internally, a flash of disdain in her eyes.
Her legs move as fast as her tiny body allows, feet barely touching the ground as she weaves through the trees. But she already knows—she can't outrun it.
She grits her teeth, her mind racing. Running blindly won't work. She needs a plan.
Glancing back, she watches the beast charge after her, crushing bushes and snapping branches beneath its weight. Her muscles burn. Her breath is ragged.
Shit.
She doesn't have time to process where she is or how she got here. Survival first. Questions later.
Another glance ahead—roots, uneven ground, thick trees. Use the terrain.
She clenches her jaw.
If she can't outrun it—
She'll outmaneuver it.
Xhaelyn's small legs burn as she pushes herself forward, darting between the thick trees. Her breaths come fast and shallow, heart pounding against her ribs.
The beast is fast. Too fast.
She barely ducks in time as its massive claws swipe at her back, the force of the near-miss sending a rush of wind past her ears.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
Her body is sluggish—too weak, too small, too slow! It's infuriating. Her past self would have dealt with this thing in seconds. But now? A single misstep, and she's dead.
Her foot catches on a root.
She stumbles.
The beast snarls, seizing the opportunity.
It lunges.
Instinct kicks in. Xhaelyn twists mid-fall, rolling to the side just as its jaws snap shut where her neck had been.
A second too slow, and she'd be a mangled corpse.
She barely has time to think before scrambling to her feet again. Move. Keep moving!
Her pulse pounds in her ears as she forces her tiny legs to carry her forward. The uneven terrain works in her favor—the beast is huge, its heavy body crashing against trees and brambles as it barrels after her.
Use it. Use the terrain.
She grits her teeth and changes direction, veering toward a dense thicket of trees. Come on, ugly, keep up.
The trees grow tighter together, branches low, roots twisting through the ground like traps. She slips through the gaps with ease, but the beast?
A loud thud echoes behind her as it slams into a tree.
It snarls in frustration, thrashing wildly.
Xhaelyn doesn't hesitate—she climbs.
Her small hands grip the rough bark, tiny arms straining as she hauls herself up the nearest tree. Her feet scramble for purchase—**too short, too weak—**but adrenaline fuels her.
She barely makes it up before the beast rams into the trunk, shaking the entire tree.
Her fingers slip.
No—!
She grips tighter, hooking her arm around a thick branch as the beast roars below.
The damn thing starts clawing at the tree, tearing at the bark like a rabid animal. Its jaws snap just inches from her dangling foot.
Her breath is ragged, heart hammering so loudly she can barely think.
This is ridiculous.
She's Xhaelyn Silva. A former assassin. A woman who spent years dodging bullets and carving through enemies like a blade through silk.
And now she's stuck in a child's body, struggling against an overgrown mutt?
Absolutely unacceptable.
She exhales sharply, forcing herself to focus.
The beast can't reach her. But she can't stay here forever.
Her gaze flickers upward. The branches stretch high, intertwining with other trees. A path.
She shifts her weight, preparing to move. The branches look sturdy enough to hold her, but her body is still untested. If she slips—
No. Not an option.
The beast growls below, pacing, watching. It isn't leaving.
Tch. Persistent bastard.
Fine. If it won't leave—
She'll force it to.
Her eyes scan her surroundings, searching. There.
A thick, dead branch clings to a nearby tree, barely attached. If she can break it…
She moves quickly, balancing on the branch she's perched on. With careful steps, she reaches the weakened limb and kicks at it—once, twice—
CRACK.
The branch snaps and crashes down—
Right onto the beast's face.
A sharp yelp of pain erupts from below.
It staggers back, momentarily stunned.
Now!
Xhaelyn moves.
She leaps to the next branch, gripping tightly as she swings her legs over. Then the next. And the next.
Her small body is lighter, nimbler. What she lacks in strength, she makes up for in speed.
She doesn't stop until the beast's growls fade into the distance.
Only then does she allow herself to breathe.
She slumps against the trunk of a sturdy tree, her tiny chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweat clings to her skin.
Her muscles ache. Her limbs feel useless. She hates this body.
But—
She's alive.
For now.
Her fingers curl against the bark. Where the hell is she? Why is she small? And—
Her stomach growls.
…And where is she going to find food?
She exhales sharply. One thing at a time.
Survival first.
Then, she'll figure out what the hell is going on.