The Weight Of A Spirit

Nariah stumbled over a root tangle, caught herself against a towering tree, and shoved off the rough bark in a breathless rush. Her boots crashed through pine needles and low shrub. A snag caught at her pants but she pushed through, disregarding the damage she did to the bush.

It would recover. Elidee might not.

Nariah’s breath rushed in pained gasps, but she pressed onward through the forest. She shoved branches aside when she could, ducked under others in an attempt to follow the path. Her palms stung, scratched by bark and twigs and needles.