Aurora and Stephen wandered through the forest, the Spirit trailing behind them, watching with mild disinterest. It wondered when it would finally be allowed to leave, but the answer was never—unless, of course, it wished to cease existing entirely.
"Where are we even going?" Aurora sighed, dragging her feet. "The sun is setting, and we're still wandering like lost sheep."
Stephen stopped and turned to her, his expression lined with concern.
"Do you want to rest?" He asked, his expression that of uncertainty.
She said nothing, merely walked ahead and settled herself at the base of the tree, resting her head against the bark. The Spirit hovered nearby, already bored out of its ghostly mind.
He had refused to make use of his supernatural speed, claiming that half his strength had already been spent fending off the men who had been sent after them.
Yet, he would not speak of who they were nor why they had come.
