The swamp was eerily silent after the last battle, the faint mist weaving between the twisted, gnarled trees.
Petne walked a few steps ahead, his posture relaxed, his twin swords sheathed at his side. His boots splashed lazily in the muck as though he were strolling through a garden instead of a death trap.
Behind him, Miya was practically vibrating with energy. Her eyes gleaming, and her lips were curled into a predatory grin. The thrill of battle still coursed through her veins. She didn't care how many enemies came next—she only wanted them to be stronger.
"You're enjoying yourself way too much, don't you?" Petne said casually, not even glancing back at her knowing how much his woman enjoyed fighting.
"Why shouldn't I?" she replied, spinning one of her daggers in her hand. "I feel so alive right, now, of course it's even better with you here."
