Chapter 14
What Acacia would have done for a feather cushion to lie on and a glass of warm milk right about then. Tramping through this damp, cold, unending cavern was as unbearable as the stench from the River Styx. For all she knew, the trickling streams of water that had appeared slithering along the cavern’s floor could very well be from the river of the underworld.
To keep up with Tyr’s wide gait, she had to periodically flap her wings to give herself lift and increase her speed. Even so, it felt like they had been searching these underground passages for days—although it had more likely been several hours—and she had yet to spot anything that looked like a tree root. Occasionally, she glanced back over her shoulder, and could catch the yellow reflection off Fenrir’s eyes, a good f
