A second.
A minute.
An hour.
Perhaps even an entire day.
Rhys had spent an entire day walking without pause carrying several weights on him. Ayesha, aside from waking up from time to time to cuss at Rhys, have remained completely unconscious and unresponsive on his back. She wasn't the heaviest weight Rhys was carrying, however, it was the metal chains hanging on his neck — the lives of the Faceless Crew, compressed into simple dog tags.
Ayesha told him he had no time to mourn, but all he really seemed to have was time as he walked in the direction he assumed to be where the base of the Underworld Corps was. He really had no idea how far they've actually traveled.
How could he? When he spent all that time just talking to his friends on their rusted and almost broken down jeep… but even that was gone.
