Maeve
“Get away from me!”
I was running, frantic, tripping and stumbling through the dense greenbelt that lay between the castle ground and the village below. There was noise all around me; screaming, shouting, the eerie high-pitched howl of wolves.
I could hear him behind me, his breath catching in his throat as he cursed aloud, begging me to stop.
“You’re running right into it, Maeve. You need to stop for a minute. We need to come up with a plan to get to the port—”
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” My face was tight from my dried tears as I spoke.
“Look around!” he bellowed as he clutched me by the shoulder, pulling me to a stop. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was in incredible pain. One arm was dangling at his side, bent and bleeding profusely from a terrible, protruding fracture in his forearm. I should help him, heal him.
No. I wouldn’t. He was as good as dead to me.