The Ramble was a different kind of jungle.
It was a tangled, chaotic maze of winding paths, ancient, glacial rock formations, and trees so old they seemed to be holding up the sky.
The distant, percussive roar of the battle on the Great Lawn was muffled here, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the frantic, panicked thumping of Michael's own heart.
"Okay," Jax grunted from where he was being half-carried, half-dragged between Michael and Jinx. "I think I can officially say that my leg feels like it's been put through a meat grinder."
He let out a pained, theatrical groan.
"A very stylish, very heroic meat grinder."
Jinx just grunted, her face a mask of grim, focused determination. "Quit your whining, Boomer. You've had worse."
"Have I, though?" Jax asked, his voice full of a genuine, almost childlike curiosity. "I feel like this is definitely in my top five worst leg-related injuries. Maybe top three."
