The wagon shuddered to a halt, the jolt throwing Marcus against the wall. His shoulder hit wood with a dull thud, sending a fresh spike of pain through his cramped muscles.
He'd lost track of time in the suffocating black. Hours? Days?
The air inside had turned thick, laced with the sour reek of unwashed bodies and despair.
Thomas's breathing had grown shallower, a wet rattle that echoed like a countdown.
Marcus blinked against the sudden glare as the doors swung open.
Moonlight filtered through, pale and mocking.
They weren't in the wilderness anymore. Stone walls loomed on either side, the back alley of some godforsaken town.
The smell hit him. Stale beer, rotting garbage, and something metallic, like blood scrubbed from cobbles.
"Out, you lot! Now" a bandit barked, cracking a whip against the ramp.
The sound snapped through the night air.
Marcus hauled himself up, his legs pins and needles.
He reached for Thomas, slinging the man's arm over his shoulder.
