HAVEN ✓

Six

I am lost.

Not only that, but I am so not used to this much cardio. I've been running for what feels like forever, but according to the timepiece on my wrist, it hasn't even been half an hour. Just that short amount of time has me nearly collapsing from oxygen deprivation.

At first, it had been easy following the Outlander. Markee had been throwing barbed comments at the long-haired Outlander, ranging from demands to insults, even bodily threats. More than that, her screaming left no question about which direction they were heading. But after a while, her shouts and curses ceased, which truly scared me. If he wanted to kill her, he wouldn't have taken her alive in the first place, right? I prayed that she only wore out her voice, not that the long-tressed brute had knocked her out.

Tracking them has been a lot harder since Markee went silent. I'm trying my best to follow the sound of crunching leaves and twigs, the minimal trail Markee's kidnapper is leaving behind. It feels like the forest will never end. I'm not even sure what direction I'm facing right now. I jog to a stop, like I have been every once in a while to make sure I'm still on the right track.

Holding my breath, I close my eyes and train my ears on the forest around me. With my vision suppressed, my other senses detect the subtle things more easily. There's the sweet scent of foliage permeating the air. I can hear the distant sound of bird calls, their happy chittering completely out of place in my worrisome mind. The gentle rustle of leaves surrounds me as the slight breeze sends them tumbling across the forest floor. Then my ears pinpoint what I'm listening for. The steady crunch, crunch, of footfalls ahead of me, and slightly to my left.

I release the breath I was holding and breathe deeply, both to keep myself steady from panic that threatens to boil through my determined façade, and to pack as much air into my lungs as possible. I start after them again, adjusting my route.

A few more minutes of running, stopping, and breathing pass by as I only let one thought occupy my mind. Catch up with Markee. I'll worry about what comes after when I get there.

Only that mantra is interrupted. I've been so focused on listening for retreating footsteps and my eyes glued to the ground to avoid tripping on fallen branches, so the clearing of the trees takes me by surprise. Out from under the tree canopy, being bathed in sunlight so suddenly jolts me out of my routine, causing me to skid to a halt. I look up and it takes me a second to realize just where I am.

The Wall.

More precisely, an enormous hole in the wall.

Over the years, the border patrol have identified and reinforced different ways the wall could be breached. Most commonly, a tunnel is dug under the wall, the soft dirt giving easy access to power-hungry Outlanders. When discovered, soldiers would pour concrete into the tunnels, sealing them shut. Other, more daring, Outlanders would make crude ladders and set them up against the wall, hoping the impossibly-long structures won't collapse. The risk of falling to one's death is as high as the wall is, so not many Outlanders try it. But to have blown a hole in the wall...

That's desperation. Not only would they abandon stealth, but they would risk the entire structure crashing down on them. How would the barbarians even get their hands on the right kind of explosives? The implications cause fear to constrict my throat.

There are large chunks of stone around the gape, and I toe some of the smaller pebbles that flew further into the surrounding trees. The amount of force it took to blow the ancient stronghold to bits must have been astounding. There's a layer of stone dust on the fallen leaves and dirt, interrupted only by footprints. Hundreds of them. Just how many Outlanders are involved in this? And what happened to cause them to become so desperate to get in and destroy us now? As if it has the answers, I look into the hole and get my first glimpse of the Outlands.