Malachai's POV.
Thunder echoes through the trees, distant like the drums of war. The sky is a mixture of gray clouds and black smoke. The wind, biting at my exposed skin, is cold. The stench of blood hangs heavy in the air, clinging desperately to everything it touches. Almost suffocating.
My legs scream as I push them further on. My ribs are cracked, maybe even broken. And the gash on my side spills hot blood with every agonizing step I take.
And still, I don't stop. I can't. Not when the forest still vibrates with howls. Not while the faces of those dead boys still haunt me.
My boots slip in the mud, catch on roots. The forest around me fades into a blur. But still I keep going. I don't look back. I don't have to. I know exactly what I left behind.
Failure.
And her... Hope.
She w
