Bjorn's breath came in heavy, ragged gasps as he adjusted his grip on Ania. She was still unconscious, her body feverish against his own as he carried her through the dense underbrush. The rain had slackened into a fine mist, clinging to everything like a second skin. Allyce panted beside him, her eyes constantly scanning the darkness that pressed in from all sides.
'What was that back there? It was a good hiding place! Damn it! We can't keep moving her when she's like this!'
"We need to find shelter soon," Allyce murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "She won't last much longer like this."
Bjorn grunted in response. 'She's right. But what are we supposed to do in this accursed place?' Seeing Ania like this, so fragile and silent, sent a cold dread through him that no enemy ever had. 'She's the light of Skardia. Nothing can happen to her. She'll be the one to lead the next generation.'
