Chapter Twelve: The Name on The Wind

The world became a narrow tunnel of pain and motion. My lungs were ragged strips of burning cloth. My ribs were a shattered bell clanging with every footfall. Kai’s arm was a bar of iron around my waist; it was the only thing holding me up. He did not speak. He did not need to. His body was a language of urgent command. He pulled me through the grasping undergrowth; his head constantly swiveling; his ears tracking sounds I could not hear.

The darkness was a living thing. It breathed with the rustle of unseen creatures and the distant, haunting calls of our hunters. The rogues were still out there. Their howls were fainter now; a persistent echo in the deep woods. They were searching. They were patient.

We ran until the sky began to soften from black to a deep, bruised grey. The trees thinned slightly. A rocky outcrop emerged from the earth; a scar of granite offering a high vantage point. Kai guided me toward it; his grip tightening as I stumbled on a loose stone.

“Here,” he grunted;