EMMA'S POV
Night settled over the northern ridge like a held breath.
The group moved beneath it in a staggered line, lanterns shuttered, footsteps muffled by damp earth and pine needles. The land rose steadily, the path narrowing into something older than roads—an animal trail worn smooth by centuries of quiet persistence. Above them, clouds slid across the moon, revealing and concealing their passage in alternating waves of silver and shadow.
Afin walked at the front.
Pain throbbed in his arm where the bullet had grazed him, a dull reminder that the crossing had taken more than it appeared. He had bound it tightly, cleaned it as best he could with boiled water and grit, but infection was always a possibility. Still, pain was a luxury he couldn't afford to focus on.
Behind him, the rescued captives moved slowly.
