Derek ran without looking back.
“Malia!” Lydia shouted behind him. “Derek, stop!”
He heard her, but he did not slow down. His mother was at the gates, surrounded by armed strangers, and a wounded man had said she might not survive. Nothing else mattered.
“Come back here!” Lydia called.
Derek raced past two cottages and nearly collided with an elderly woman carrying a basket. He barely noticed her cry of surprise. The war horn sounded again, closer now, and the ground seemed to shake beneath the shouting.
He had never heard of a battle before. He had never seen people fight to the death. But he knew the sound of danger, and every instinct told him to get to his mother.
Behind him, Lydia turned to the wounded runner.
“How badly is she hurt?” she demanded.
“I don’t know,” the man gasp
