Lorraine's POV
The moon hung low and thin across the heavy clouds above us. The night air was cold, the kind that stung when you breathed too deeply, but we pressed on through the woods anyway, following the narrow, muddy trail Cyrin had told us would lead straight to the river bend.
Varya led in front, torch in hand, her posture unshaken even in the wind. Her boots splashed lightly through shallow puddles as she walked. Alistair was close behind her, eyes sharp and scanning the trees for any sign of movement. Felix followed after him, muttering to himself occasionally, while I brought up the rear, clutching my cloak tighter to fight off the chill.
Each step we took sounded too loud in the thick silence of the forest. Every crack of a twig, every rustle of the leaves above, made my heart jump just a little faster.
