when it's just the two of us, only the two of us
Winning doesn't feel sweet. It doesn't feel good, and it doesn't feel worth it. But it's done, and that's the main thing for Isla as she streaks across the snow-clogged fields towards the Outskirts; towards the Greatwood. She doesn't breathe, so there's no gasping, no rise and fall of her chest. There's no blood pounding in her ears, no screaming of her muscles. But that doesn't mean she feels nothing.
There's no way to even tell if Remi will be there waiting; will be anywhere near where she wants to be, and if Isla has to, she'll break rules and slip into the darkness of the forest to find her friend. Only when the woods are in view does she finally slow her steps, looking as though... well, as though she's recently fought an aerial battle as a manticore, and hunkered down in a jail to avoid going up in flames.
There's no way to even tell if Remi will be there waiting; will be anywhere near where she wants to be, and if Isla has to, she'll break rules and slip into the darkness of the forest to find her friend. Only when the woods are in view does she finally slow her steps, looking as though... well, as though she's recently fought an aerial battle as a manticore, and hunkered down in a jail to avoid going up in flames.
i could die
Isla
