CHAPTER 23

Three hours. Three hours of walking, falling, tripping, whining, mentally dying and coming back to life again in the woods.

"Sebastian, I don't think I can go much longer," I pant, holding onto a tree for support. My legs are sore from the calf all the way up to the thigh, and every step I take creates the most intense feeling of ache I have ever felt.

"We're almost there," he says. He does a better job at hiding his tiredness and pain than I do, but it's still evident all over his body, especially in his worn-out eyes.

I let go of the tree and drag myself to keep up, "Well how do you know that? How do you know how far we have to go? We could...we could be wandering here all night, for days, even. What if we don't make it? What if we don't make it to the ro—"