RAGNA POV...
I let the words slip from my mouth slowly—deliberately, almost cruelly slow—my voice cold and flat, the kind of tone that didn't just carry sound but weight, as if each syllable were a stone dropping into a grave. Even to my own ears, I sounded like I was delivering a verdict no one could appeal.
"Eh? For crying out loud, is there still half a month more? These past few days have been the most nerve-shredding, soul-quaking days of my entire miserable life! I can't even endure one more sunrise in this cursed wasteland!"
The freckled boy nearly screamed himself hoarse, fingers tangled violently in his hair as if he wanted to rip the frustration straight out of his skull. I could see the tremble in his shoulders. And honestly? I understood it. Back in my village, life had been dangerous—yes—but it had been a familiar kind of danger.
