Inside the forest, Whitey was running through the woods. His tongue was sticking out while he skillfully maneuvered through the difficult terrain.
"Hang in there, Killian." Shyla held Killian's hand. "He's breathing so slowly; is that fine?"
"Letting him sleep was a bad idea, only if that attack didn't instantly put him unconscious," Mob said, his head bleeding but ignoring it.
"I should have moved faster to save him. He was healing me; it was my fault—" Grunt's words interrupted when Shyla and Mob gently held his shoulder, calming Grunt down.
The danger was not over—the Murder Crows, which could not be detected even by Shyla's impressive detection skills, rushed towards their unaware prey. They prepared their sharp wings for swift and lethal attacks.
