The forest swallowed us the second we left the packhouse. No torches. No celebration. Just dark earth under my boots and the sound of Thorne walking too fast ahead of me, like he thought distance would make his words easier to deliver. I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.
“Slow down,” I hissed, catching his arm. “You can’t just storm off every time something happens,” he turned, his eyes shadowed even in the pale light.
“I’m not storming off. I’m thinking. Which is more than I can say for you right now,” my chest tightened. He was angry, that much was obvious.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he said, stepping closer. “That the smart thing would be to go back to the forest and rebuild. We should stay out of this. You should stay out of this mess before it kills you,
