The terrain didn't change. The north offered no mercy—no shade, no shelter. Only a dead horizon lined with sunbaked rocks and distant, shimmering heat mirages that played cruel tricks on the eye.
The only sound that accompanied her was the crunch of cracked soil beneath her boots and the raspy wheeze of her breathing.
Freya stumbled again.
She dropped to one knee, letting out a sharp gasp, nearly toppling over. Cassius shifted on her back, his weight pulling her backward, but she forced herself upright again.
Her limbs shook. Sweat poured down her face and soaked the collar of her uniform.
But she didn't stop.
She couldn't stop.
She had lost enough today.
"Just a bit further… There has to be something," she muttered to herself. "Just a cave… a crack in the wall, even a damn hole in the ground…"
