Just a few more corridors and I will be out of this maze, I remind myself, my chest constricting a little from the pressure afflicted by the heavy atmosphere of dread and the breathlessness of my lungs. Azrael's voice continues to call to me and the wolf as we race faster and faster, plunging headlong down corridors with nothing but the eerie silence of our footsteps springing up in our wake.
Only one wolf remains with me now, the other hoping to act as a sort of decoy for the folk (and for Azrael if we are lucky), but the chances of this being successful are slim. For while the Folk themselves may be mindless and brainwashed, Azrael certainly is not.
But we aren't too far from the entrance of the palace. As soon as we get out, things will be much less of a burden. From then on, it will be open ground. I can do this.
