Branches whipped at Ning Que's face, stinging his cheeks as he vaulted over a fallen, moss-covered log. His lungs burned, a raw fire that matched the frustration simmering in his gut.
Behind him, he could hear the heavy, panicked breathing of the others, punctuated by the sharp, irritated commands of their self-appointed leader.
"Move! Are your legs made of lead?" Lian Zhen snapped, her voice cutting through the sounds of their flight. She spun on her heel, her gaze sweeping over them, her perfectly braided hair not daring to come loose. "The alert wasn't a suggestion. It was a promise. Pick up the pace!"
Linx, his face pale and beaded with sweat, glanced down at the flickering device strapped to his wrist.
"She's right. They're closing. Fast. Their heat signatures are… elite. Amplified." He clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw tight knots of anxiety. "This isn't a standard patrol."