LYRA POINT OF VIEW.

I didn’t stop running until the trees thinned and Moonfang’s borders pressed against my skin like a promise of safety.

Even then, my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

The forest behind me was quiet now, too quiet, as if it had swallowed what it had witnessed and refused to speak of it. My breath came hard, burning my chest, and the loyal man who had fled with me kept glancing back, his face pale.

“We shouldn’t slow down,” he said.

“I know,” I snapped, sharper ...