But then I whispered his name:

“Josiah…”

And I pushed forward.

The world outside was not kind.

Cold wind cut through my clothes.

The road was uneven, cruel to my wheels.

Every inch forward felt like a battle.

But I didn’t stop.

I couldn’t.

Days turned into weeks.

I learned how to survive.

How to ask for help without revealing too much.

How to lie.

How to endure hunger.

How to keep moving even when my arms felt like they would give out.

And slowly…

piece by piece…

I followed his trail.

Until one day…

in a small northern town…

I found a name.

A record.

A clue.

“Josiah,” the man said, looking at a ledger. “Blacksmith… strong build… yes… he passed through here.”

My breath caught.

“When?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Where is he now?”

The man hesitated.

Then:

“Mississippi.”

Mississippi.

Farther than I imagined.

More dangerous than anything I had faced so far.

Deeper into a world where people like me… didn’t belong.

I should have turned back.

Any sensible person would have.

But I wasn’t that person anymore.

Because this wasn’t just love.

It was something bigger now.

Something that refused to die.

“I’m going,” I said.

The man looked at me like I was mad.

“You won’t survive that journey.”

I met his eyes.

“I already survived worse.”

And so…

I kept going.

But what I didn’t know…

what I couldn’t know…

was this:

Josiah wasn’t just waiting for me.

He was changing.

Becoming something the world had never seen before.

And when we finally met again…

it wouldn’t just change our lives.