It boasted the most southern latitude in Herandor with a mere five miles between it and the dragon's realm, which was called Derathima.
...Katherine had never been smiled at save by anyone but her brother, sister, and foster mother.
Taking the opportunity, whoever was leading her dove into an ally and ran about halfway down it...
Upon glancing down at his left hand, he noted that he was still holding his dagger, the blade of which had been dyed crimson by his retaliation. "Will it be..."
They were the words of a child who had been forced into adulthood at an early age. It was easy to see that he knew the harsh realities of the world exceedingly well, realities that even Katherine had yet to come to recognize.
Reaching out a hand, he attempted to pull the blunt piece of metal out of the wall, but finding it more difficult than he had first anticipated, he merely released it with a pleasant chuckle. "I didn't mean literally..."
He went off on his own several hours ago, and something tells me he is half the reason for this riot.
Once the candles illuminated his wound, his gaze grew even darker than it had before, though Katherine couldn't whether or not it was the result of the bitterness or the wound itself.
"You bastard."
Both her thoughts and her senses suddenly became hazy with fatigue.