Nightmarish!

They ran until they could no longer feel Morpheus's presence, until the air around them no longer carried the weight of its laughter, its voice crawling through their skin.

Hazel collapsed onto all fours, gasping, her breath coming in sharp, ragged pulls. The cold bit deep, clawing at her lungs as she let Vivian slip from her arm.

The swan fell beside her, wings splayed wide, silent in agony.

'Can you fly?' Hazel sent the thought.

Vivian shook her head.

Guilt gnawed at Hazel's chest. Vivian's entire existence—her ability to shift, to fight—depended on her feathers. And now, with her left wing stripped bare, she was grounded.

Hazel clenched her fists against the dirt.

Reckless. Stupid.

What had she been thinking? Taking on a Major alone—someone second only to a Brigadier. She could've died three times over if not for Arthur and the Guardian.