Thalia stared at Dante on the ground.
Her mind didn’t process it at first as one minute he had the advantage and the next he was just lying there in the dirt, still except for the shallow movement of his chest. Blood spread from the arrow wound in his thigh, dark and wet. The sweet smell of poison hung thick in the air.
She cursed and thinking fast, ran for his dagger.
It had fallen maybe three feet away, the blade catching what little light remained. Her bound hands made her clumsy and she stumbled over a root again for what felt like the tenth time today that she nearly went down herself but she somehow got her balance back through sheer luck and kept moving but it was too late.
The bandit leader grabbed the back of her shirt and yanked her backward.
She fell hard. The impact drove
