It might have been her imagination, but with every step, the adept seemed to regain his strength. The wounds Atissa had expected to keep bleeding clotted, and he stopped leaning heavily on her, even if his stiffened and slow moves still reflected the torture his body had endured through the night. In comparison, her own energy was waning. As the adrenaline rush faded, the sleepless night, lack of food, and fear started weighing on her. Even rested and fed, she hardly made a good traveler, so the farther they went, the more apparent it became that it wasn’t the wounded man who would slow them down.
The adept remained silent, likely focused on making it through the forest or conserving his strength, and Atissa found little reason to start a conversation herself. With nothing else to do, her
