The unmarked road was exactly what it sounded like, unmarked, unpaved, and deeply committed to destroying the van's suspension.
We'd been driving for fifteen minutes on what I generously called a "road" and more accurately would describe as "a vague suggestion of where wheels might go." Trees pressed in from both sides, branches scraping the van's roof, and the headlights barely cut through the darkness.
"Are you sure this is right?" I asked for the third time.
"The GPS says yes." Azryth's hands were tight on the wheel, navigating around a pothole that looked like it could swallow the vehicle. "Though I'm beginning to question the GPS's judgment."
"Maybe we took a wrong turn."
"There haven't been any turns, it's just this increasingly questionable path into the woods."
The binding hummed with his tension, we were both on edge, waiting for another ambush, another attack, another disaster in what had become a very disaster-heavy evening.
Then the trees opened up.
