Julius had gathered the anima gems with a mechanical gesture, his own body aching from the clash with the Awakened Beast. Without a word, he lifted Dylan's limp body onto his shoulder — the newly grown arm, pale and smooth, swinging with an unsettling weightlessness. On the other shoulder hung the massive Warg haunch, a grotesque trophy nearly as large as the boy himself. Then he set off into the forest, senses sharp, searching for shelter.
He found it where the cold, clear river had carved out a hollow beneath a tangle of roots and a jutting rock wall. It wasn't a real cave — barely deep enough to stand upright — but it would keep them safe from the wind and the rain threatening to fall from the heavy gray sky. Most importantly, the spot was defensible.
