Lyanna
I rush to hold Irene by the shoulder, helping her skip away from the bullets that rage in the air.
"Oh my gosh no. Irene," I whimper as we both scamper to a hiding spot.
Irene groans, still holding her shoulder.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Irene," I fidget, tearing the hem of my shirt and tying it around the wound.
Irene hisses, "We need to get out of here somehow," she looks around.
"They are looking for us," I scold us, "Do you want to get killed?"
"Shhh."
We hear the voices of the guards who are looking for us.
"Where did they go?" a thick voice pants.
"Come on, let's go that way, they shouldn't have gone so far."
For the next few minutes, we hear nothing, but the wind beating on the rustling leaves.
"We have to get out of here. First, let me heal your wound," I whisper, then twirl my right hand over her wound.
Instantly, it heals up.
Irene sighs in relief, and rests against the wall, "Man, these people are evil."
