“John!” My father roared from the bottom of the stairs.

    “Coming, sir!” I yelled back. Sword, check. Dagger, check. Boots, on my feet. Cloak, che - wait. Where was it?! I scanned my room frantically for the missing cloak. It had rained last night, and I wasn’t about to go outside without something to cover up in. It’s not on my bed, not in my closet, not on the floor…

    “Boy, if you don’t get down here in ten seconds, I’ll…” Father trailed off threateningly.

    I glanced around my sparsely decorated room once more before grabbing my other supplies and dashing down the stairs.

    “I’m here, sir,” I said. My sword, the stupid thing, wouldn’t get into its sheath.

    “Have you got everything?” He asked gruffly. Finally, the blade slid into the scabbard.

    “No,” My feet were suddenly interesting to me.

    “What do you mean, no?”

    “You see, I - I couldn’t find my cloak, sir - ”

    “You don’t need a cloak, boy. Let’s go.”

    Father turned swung open the door, adjusting his own cape before walking out into the snowy streets. I watched him go in absolute disbelief. It was January, for heaven’s sake! Anyone not wearing a cloak would have to be dragged home with a raving fever, nausea, and blue fingers! I looked around for a cape, any cape at all, but there was none.

    “Get a move on, boy!” The sound of my father’s voice snapped me out of my panicked state. I peered around once more for a cloak, then went out the door into the brisk air.

~ ~ ~

    My father never looked behind him in all the time that we were walking. I didn’t know where we were going, just that he had hired someone to train me. It wasn’t my fault that our family were outcasts, so why was I the one that had to pay? Thomas was the one that had eloped - with a barmaid, no less! Ever since we woke up to find him gone, our family had were treated like we were criminals, with judging stares and whispers as we walked by.

    The day I’d signed up for the Forest Chase was the only day we’d had some respite. Any person that signed up for it was automatically one of the bravest people in the community, no matter what their connections or wrong doings. It wasn’t my decision, though. My parents had basically dragged me to the board outside of the jail and forced me to sign my name. It didn’t matter that out of fifty participants, only fifteen or less survived. It didn’t matter to them that those who did survive were usually scarred for life. Social standing was the only thing that mattered to them, and they’d do anything to gain it. Even if it meant sacrificing their only daughter.

    They’d never wanted a girl, just sons who could do the manual labor, wouldn’t need a dowry, and could inherit the family business. When I was born, I was automatically the least favorite. It wouldn’t matter what my brother would do, he would always be the favorite. Until Thomas had eloped, I thought it would always be like that.

    After that, my parents started forcing me to dress like a man, moved me to a separate room in the house, and called me their ‘nephew’. They had decided to spread a rumor that they’d ‘sent their daughter off to her aunt’s to acquire some polish’ and their son ‘John’ would be coming here to learn more about ‘hunting and other survival techniques’. Their plan was working well, because no one (embarrassingly enough) thought that I could be anything but male. After a week of this, my parents brought me into the parlor, locked the door, and told me that “You must enter the Forest Chase, Robin Jane Marshall, or we will marry you off to the highest bidder!”

    Just then, I was tossed out of my thoughts by a cold gust of wind that bit into my bones. I shivered, pulling my thing tunic tighter around me. What would be the point of training if I got frostbite and lost my fingers? Would my parents still make me run in the race?

    My father held out a hand to stop me, pausing as he examined the forest in front of us. My pulse quickened.

    “We’re going into the forest, boy. Don’t get killed, and stay behind me while we head to the clearing.” His hand was clenched around his sword as we stepped slowly into the shadows of the trees. The crunch of the snow and leaves underneath our feet was deafening, a stark contrast to the otherwise quiet forest. A sudden thump came from the trees, and I jumped. Trembling fingers reached for my dagger as I turned around, and looked to where I’d heard the sound. A fox bounded out from the brush, and I relaxed, my breath coming in short pants.

    Father had also turned at the sound, sword unsheathed. I smirked at the thought of him jumping as I had.

    “Now, here it is. This is where you’ll be practicing, boy.” I looked around at the clearing. I’d been here before, at previous forest races with Thomas. This was where they started the boys (and girl) off. To win the race, you had to collect the most ribbons and exit the forest alive at the end of two days. The only reason that we still did it was to please the… creatures that lived in the shade of the trees. When I was six, they decided to not do the Forest Race. That year, the borders of the city were attacked constantly, people were kidnapped or killed in the night, and anyone that tried to move out of the city would be found just outside of its limits, dead in their wagons. When I was seven, they announced that they would do the Forest Race every year for the rest of time. What the beasts demanded now was that every year, along with the boys, one unmarried girl from sixteen to twenty years old would have to run in the Race as well. Unlike some of the boys, the girl never returned.

    I was going as one of the boys, as the girl's family never got much respect after the race was over. The only families that received any recognition were the ones that had sons return home, and that was what my parents were hoping, no, bargaining for. In the end, I knew that, even though my parents were forcing me to do this, I would survive. Not for my parents, but for myself, for the future that I wanted to have. For the life that I wanted to live. I was going to survive the Forest Race.