Kieran's POV
The forest was too quiet.
Alistair, Felix, and I stood at the edge of the clearing where Varya had been taken. Her scent still clung faintly to the air, thin and fading… like a dying ember.
We followed her trail into the woods. Every second that passed made her scent weaker, dissolving into the damp chill of the night. We needed to be fast, faster than the bastards that had taken her.
Felix's footsteps were a little too quick, a little too uneven, and the sharp scent of his fear spiked the air. Alistair walked behind me, following my lead without hesitation.
And me?
I followed the single thread tying me to Varya.
Her scent.
Faint. Bleeding into the wind. But there.
Barely.
"Her trail is thinning," I murmured, more to myself. "She's losing blood."
Felix stiffened. "Losing blood? How.... how much?"
"A lot," I said coldly. "Keep up."
He made a strangled sound but obeyed.
Alistair didn't flinch. "We'll find her"
