Chapter 75
Chapter Seventy-Five
In the waning light of late afternoon, the tearing moss covering the ruins sounded uncomfortably loud to Connor. He tried setting his boots down more slowly, but that didn’t change a thing: The moss tore with a loud, deep pop.
And he was the quietest of the forward team.
If he paid attention, the sound of crunching or tearing moss occasionally came from Aubriella, Lem, and Tim Moon.
Gregor and Mosiah didn’t even seem to make an effort to keep quiet. The whole way through the woods, they’d griped about the pace and the heat baking them or about how hard it was to breathe the thick air.
Then across the open ground and the pollen-spewing scrub brush, they’d hissed and cursed.
Now in the ruins proper, they exhibited all the grace of a blind drunk.