Movement pained Turoc more than he would have thought possible, but the burns would heal, and he could move, so he did.
That girl had done something he had only ever heard about in legend, stories from ancient days when his master’s oldest enemy still lived and walked the hidden bridges between the worlds. He would never have believed it had he not seen it for himself. Seen it and felt it.
Turoc dragged himself through the rough, dusty ground of the narrow labyrinth, hobbled by his injury but propelled by deadly purpose. He passed the shell of The House of Mirrors, which Ronan had no doubt picked clean before Turoc had even arrived in Dogwood.
The rogue avian who had owned the burnt structure told Turoc and his master much after his expulsion from Dogwood by the very girls Turoc hims
