War realm [4]

The ravine, jagged and narrow, curled like a scar across the mountainside.

It was brutal terrain; sharp rocks, thorn-rooted bushes, and the occasional growl from something unseen deeper in the shadows, but it was quiet. And more importantly, it was safe.

Safe enough.

Garrick slumped against the wall, chest heaving from the exertion of hauling two people through a nightmare.

Vaelin sat nearby, cross-legged, arms folded tightly across his blood-caked armor. He hadn’t said a word since they stopped, just staring into the cold wind, silent and unreadable.

There was a subtle tension between them. Afterall, they were yet to address the topic of previously kidnapping the skeleton.

Clinton? He perched in the corner like a gargoyle, skeletal frame motionless, faint blue frost still wafting off his bones from the magic he had unleashed earlier. The battle with Gor’Zhul had nearly killed them… again.

And yet somehow, they were still breathing. Or at least, two of them were.