Nora came at me like a storm given legs.
Not running.
Not sprinting.
Speed-walking.
Which somehow made it worse.
Her boots crunched against the frozen ground with sharp, clipped steps, the sound echoing across the ruined battlefield. Shattered ice glimmered underfoot, fractured plains stretching out where a living mountain had just collapsed.
The air was still painfully cold, my breath fogging with every shallow inhale, my body screaming in delayed protest from everything I'd just done.
She didn't slow down.
Didn't hesitate.
Didn't even glance at Kent first.
Her eyes were on me.
Only me.
And that alone was enough to make the hairs on my neck stand up.
By the time I realized she was close enough to hit me, it was already too late.
She stopped directly in front of me.
Too close.
Close enough that I could see the fine frost clinging to the ends of her white hair, the way her pupils flicked rapidly over me like she was inventorying damage.
Head.
Torso.
Arms.
Legs.
