Liam and Asher darted through the forest at a speed that was quick enough to eat distance and measured enough not to make the terrain punish them for arrogance.
The western woods blurred around them in layered greens, grays, and dark browns, branches cutting across their path and old roots twisting beneath patches of damp earth. Liam moved with light, efficient steps, letting momentum carry him over low roots and broken stones without wasting a motion. Asher kept pace several strides to his right, less quiet, more forceful, but not reckless.
Blue flame flickered once beneath his heel to correct his angle over a fallen trunk, then vanished before it could catch on dry bark. Neither of them spoke at first. The countdown had already taken nearly thirty minutes from them, and at the pace Liam had set, the western forest line was finally drawing close.
Above the treeline, Raven flew low with Celia on her back.
