With one last precise swipe of her blade, Ilyrana finally severed the last of the vines holding her aloft. She dropped down gracefully, landing on her feet with barely a sound, her movements quick and fluid. Her hand shot out the instant she touched the ground, grasping Luke's wrist firmly.
"Come on!" she urged, her voice a sharp whisper as her eyes darted over his shoulder. Luke barely had a moment to react before she pulled him forward, leading them deeper into the dense underbrush.
They moved hurriedly, weaving through the trees with the shadows of their pursuers closing in. Every sense in Luke's body was heightened as he struggled to keep pace, his mind racing as fast as his heartbeat. He could still hear the faint sounds of footfalls behind them, dark figures flitting through the forest at a relentless pace. There was no room to slow down, no margin for error.
