chapter 25

Greta was on her feet and out of the tent faster than I expected for someone of her age. I followed, chasing the child and Greta down the pathways, past the clusters of tents, until we reached the woods near where I’d entered when I’d arrived.

A male with sandy-blonde hair was laying on the ground, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. His clothes were torn and his shirt was bloody. He was moaning in pain, his hands gripping for the ground and finding no purchase.

“What happened to him?” Had someone attacked him in the camp?

“Why isn’t he healing?” The child asked. “He should be healing. Shift, Daddy. You need to heal.”

She ran forward and Greta caught her, then passed her to me. On instinct, I reached for the girl and pulled her into my arms.

“Get the child out of here and keep her away,” Greta ordered.

I looked down at the kid. The little girl had the same blonde hair as the fallen man. She was trying to stay strong but I could almost feel her fear.

“Go, now,” Greta barked.

I grabb