If you like music while you read, try "Louder than a Lion" by Eisley. It's what I was listening to while writing this chapter!
*****
~ HARTH ~
She couldn't let go of him. She felt weak like a child. Not because her body couldn't fight. But because the fear was so overwhelming, she wanted nothing more than to flee.
Actually, that wasn't true. She'd fled into Tarkyn's arms because that was where she most wanted to be—curled into him, inhaling his smell, buffered from this strange world and these awful people by his arms, his strength, his will.
She could feel him—his rock-solid resolve to protect her, his certainty that he could fix this, but his rage and fear that she'd been hurt.
She hadn't been. Not really. Now that she felt a little safer, she could see that the guards had been careful with her, though it hadn't felt that way at the time. Her shoulder was a little sore, but it wasn't anything that wouldn't heal in a day, two at most.
