They'd been walking for about an hour when Evan managed to flag down a truck. The driver—an older woman with kind eyes—agreed to take them as far as the next town for $20.
"You two look like you could use the help," she said. "Hop in."
Anaya fell asleep almost immediately in the truck's seat, exhausted from crying. But before that Anaya looked at him expectantly. "Papa. You forgot something."
"What?"
"The nose taps! For good dreams!"
"Oh. Right. The magic nose taps that definitely aren't made up."
"They're NOT made up! They work!"
"If you say so." Evan reached out and gently tapped her nose. Once. Twice. Three times. "Sleep tight, little light."
"I carry you with me, Papa," she said, eyes already closing. "Always."
"Yeah, kid. I carry you with me too."
The woman glanced at her sleeping face, then at Evan.
"Running from something?"
"Something like that."
"Well, I didn't see nothing, and I won't remember nothing. You take care of that baby."
"She's —" Evan stopped. "Yeah. I will."
They drove in silence for a while. Then the woman said, "She's lucky to have you. Whatever you're running from, whatever you're running toward—she's lucky."
Evan looked at Anaya's sleeping face, her cap slightly askew, a cookie crumb on her cheek that he gently wiped away.
"I think I'm the lucky one," he said quietly.
Then he pulled out his small notebook from his jacket pocket. The pen. And he started writing.
The woman dropped them at a crossroads about five miles from Pine Hollow. As Evan lifted the still-sleeping Anaya from the truck, the woman called out, "Hey. That little one. She special?"
Evan tensed. "What do you mean?"
"I mean special. Different. The kind of different that makes people nervous." The woman smiled. "Don't worry. Like I said—I didn't see nothing. But you should know—there's good people out here still. People who remember that different doesn't mean bad."
"Thank you," Evan said, meaning it.
"Don't thank me. Just keep being her. That's what matters."
She drove off, leaving Evan standing at the crossroads with a sleeping elf child in his arms and a long walk ahead of them.
Anaya stirred. "Papa? Where are we?"
"Almost to Pine Hollow."
"Is it nice there?"
"I don't know, kid. But we'll find out together."
She yawned, then looked around at the forest surrounding them. "Papa? I think... I think we're getting closer."
"Closer to what?"
"To home. My real home." She pointed . "I can feel it. Like a pull. Like something's calling me."
Evan's heart clenched. "The barrier?"
"Maybe. I don't know exactly. But it feels closer than before. Like maybe—" Her eyes got wide with hope. "—like maybe we could find our way back from here. If we tried."
"Anaya—"
"I know we can't yet. I know it's still dangerous. But Papa?" She looked at him with those too-knowing amber eyes. "We're getting closer to Mama. I can feel it. And that makes the running worth it."
Evan held her a little tighter. "Yeah, kid. We're getting closer."
To her mother. To the barrier. To the moment when he'd have to let her go.
But he didn't think about that. Couldn't think about that.
Instead, he focused on the road ahead, on Pine Hollow waiting at the end of it, on one more town where maybe—just maybe—they could rest for a little while.
"Papa?" Anaya's voice was drowsy. "Can you tell me a story while we walk? About Mama and you? About what you remember?"
Oh. She wanted stories about her real parents. Because she thought Evan was her father.
"I... I don't remember much," Evan said carefully. "It's been a long time. And my memory's terrible. I once forgot my own birthday for three years straight."
"That's sad, Papa."
"It was actually pretty convenient. No awkward birthday parties."
Anaya giggled. "You're silly."
"Tell me anything. Please?" she pressed.
So Evan did. He made up stories as they walked—stories about an elf woman who loved nature and her family, and an elf man who had the biggest heart, who wanted peace between worlds. Stories based on what Anaya had told him, woven together with hope and lies and love.
"And your Mama," Evan said, "could shoot an arrow through a leaf at a hundred yards. While blindfolded. Probably."
"Really?"
"I'm like sixty percent sure. Maybe forty. Could be making it up."
"Papa!"
"What? I warned you my memory was bad."
And Anaya listened, her small hand in his, her face peaceful despite everything.
"I can't wait for you to meet her," she said sleepily. "Mama's going to be very happy, Papa. Just like I did."
Evan's throat closed up. Because eventually, Anaya would figure out the truth. That he wasn't her father. That he was just some human who happened to have the right "inside" .
And then what?
Would she hate him? Feel betrayed?
Or would she still love him anyway?
He didn't know. Was terrified to find out.
"Yeah, me too, kid," he said instead. "Now come on. Pine Hollow's just over that hill. Let's go find somewhere safe to rest."
"Okay, Papa." She squeezed his hand. "But tomorrow? Can we start looking for the barrier? For the way home?"
"We'll see."
"That's parent talk for 'probably not but I don't want to fight about it.'"
"When did you get so smart?"
"I've always been smart. You just don't notice because you're busy being grumpy and worried."
Despite everything, Evan laughed. "Fair enough."
They crested the hill, and Pine Hollow spread out below them—small, run-down, isolated. The kind of place where people came to disappear.
Perfect.
For now, at least.
Until Morrison found them.
Until they had to run again.
Until Evan had to face the inevitable truth that he was living on borrowed time with a child who wasn't his, pretending to be someone he wasn't, running from everything and everyone.
But for now—for this moment—they had each other.
And that would have to be enough.
"Come on, kid. Let's go find us a motel and maybe some actual food."
"Can we get the kind of food with cheese? I like cheese."
"Everything has cheese if you try hard enough."
"That's the best philosophy I ever heard, Papa."
They walked into Pine Hollow together, hand in hand, ready for whatever came next.
Ready to keep running.
Ready to keep hoping.
Ready to keep being a family, even if it was the strangest, most impossible family ever.
Because sometimes, Evan was learning, family wasn't about blood or species.
It was about choosing each other.
Every single day.
And he chose Anaya.
Would keep choosing her.
For as long as she'd let him.
Even when she learned the truth.
Even when everything fell apart.
Even when it cost him everything.
She was worth it.
She was worth everything.
-----
Captain Morrison's office looked like a war zone. Coffee cups everywhere—some still half-full, most growing things that probably violated health codes. Papers scattered across every surface. Maps pinned to walls with so many red marks they looked like they had a disease. And in the center of it all, Morrison himself, looking like he'd forgotten what sleep was.
He hadn't slept in three days. Maybe four. Time had stopped meaning anything around day six of the manhunt.
Six days. Six days since Cross had stolen his prize asset and made Morrison look like an idiot in front of Command.
Six days of searching, tracking, chasing shadows while Cross somehow stayed one step ahead.
"Sir?" A lieutenant knocked hesitantly on the doorframe. Smart man. Morrison had thrown a stapler at the last person who'd interrupted him.
"What?" Morrison snapped, not looking up from the map spread across his desk.
"The search teams reported back from Riverside. They found evidence Cross was there, but—"
"But he's gone." Morrison's jaw clenched so hard his teeth hurt. "Of course he's gone. He's always gone. It's like chasing a ghost."
"Yes, sir. But we interviewed the locals. A man matching Cross's description did odd jobs for an elderly couple. Called himself John Miller."
"John Miller." Morrison's laugh was bitter. "How original. What else?"
"He had a child with him. About five years old. Wore a cap constantly, kept her face mostly hidden. The locals said they seemed like a normal father and daughter. No one suspected anything unusual."
Of course they didn't. Because Cross was smart. And that little elf was apparently excellent at playing human.
The thought made Morrison's blood boil.
"What about our people inside?" he asked. "Davis, Chen, Rodriguez. Any movement?"
"No, sir. They're all maintaining their routines. Coming to work, doing their jobs, going home. If they're in contact with Cross, they're being very careful about it."
"They helped him." Morrison's fist clenched on the desk. "I know they did. I just can't prove it."
"Sir, without evidence—"
"I don't need you to tell me what I already know!" Morrison slammed his hand down. The lieutenant flinched. "Get out. Send in the tech team. I want every piece of surveillance footage from Riverside analyzed. Every transaction Cross made, every person he talked to, every place he went. He made a mistake somewhere. He had to."
The lieutenant fled. Smart man.
Morrison turned back to his maps. Riverside was circled in red, along with a dozen other small towns within a hundred-mile radius of the compound. Cross couldn't have gone far. Not on foot with a kid. Which meant he was still in the area somewhere.
Still close.
Still within reach.
Morrison pulled up a list of towns on his computer. Population under 2000. Limited law enforcement. High unemployment. The kind of places where people minded their own business because they had their own problems.
The kind of places Cross would think were safe.
His finger traced routes on the map. From the compound to Riverside was northwest. If Cross was smart—and he was—he'd avoid the major highways. Stick to back roads, small towns, places he could disappear.
Morrison's finger stopped on a dot labeled "Pine Hollow."
Population: 847.
Thirty miles west of Riverside.
Isolated. Poor. The kind of place where $50,000 reward money would seem like winning the lottery. If they paid attention which they probably not.
"Perfect," Morrison whispered.
He grabbed his phone. "Get me a tactical team. Full gear. We're going to Pine Hollow."