Estelle felt her body dropped from the height. Her throat felt burnt. The tight grip of Glasya's fingers were no joke. Perhaps it was even stronger than a hold of a werewolf. It hurt so badly enough that when she tried to speak, her voice broke off into a faint crackling distant. She rubbed her skin, hoping it could also eased her throat. At the same time, she realized that her stomach wasn't in pain as when she fell, her arms instinctively protected her stomach first, knowing well the life inside her body was much more important than her own life.
But this wasn't over. Her fight with Glasya wasn't yet over—
