Von's pov

They took our shoes first.

I watched as the guards moved down the line, yanking worn leather from calloused feet, tossing them into a pile that would be burned before dawn. The stones beneath my bare feet were already cold, and the forest ahead would be worse—roots and thorns and God knew what else waiting to tear our flesh.

"It's tradition," one of the guards said with a smirk. "Can't have you running too fast, now can we?"

The woman beside me—Sara, I think her name ...